a rebel always drudge those unquietly ~ but not nefarious
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 13–19, 2026)
always
blotchy
crinkly
drudge
ensemble
faultlessly
godlike
hip
in
knitwear
louis
monterverdi
nympho
of
pimply
railing
smashing
tasteslessness
unquietly
viscous
was
your
zamang
Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 13–19, 2026)
In shadows that creep,
i find myself submerged
by tiny whispers echoing in stillness.
They haunt my head,
drudge my heart,
leaving raging nightmares
not just at night.
With every echo i'm in flight,
searching for an exit.
Looking for some kind of courage
to calm this raging monster.
Then moonlight appears
the air becomes thick,
and a shiver runs down my spine.
This is the moment to run
just for another night,
but i will never be able
to un-face my monsters.
Who will always live within.
highbred
genteel, cosmopolitan
enchanting, winning, prospering
aristocrat, royalty, drudge, ragamuffin
suffering, laboring, struggling
destitute, deprived
lowborn
Jellyfish
Once I had a wild wish
To be a jolly jellyfish,
A quietly quivering jellyfish
Shivering in the sea.
I did not crave to be a crab,
A sideways-scuttling, crusty scab
In sluggish sludge and dismal drab
At the bottom of the sea,
Nor wish to be a sucking sponge,
Sea-sway drudge of the fathoms' plunge,
Dredging supper from the soupy gunge
In the dungeons of the sea.
I might have wished for shark or whale,
To lord the oceanic trail,
My dorsal fin a regal sail,
Imperial in the sea;
Or dared to dash through the dolphin waves,
Gliding where the wild seas rave,
Dive to a shipwreck's sunken grave,
Sunken deep in the sea.
Instead, I wished for a jellyfish,
A parachuting jellyfish,
A gossamer drift in the seas' vast dish;
That's what I wished for me.
I’m twisted
into submission;
admission
to true world
of imaginary breeze
and coconut salt.
I’m a seed,
slipping into sand,
letting go.
The wild sea’s
crest and trough didn’t swallow me,
silence me - my thoughts.
Roots, a muse -
rest and recreate;
drudge baggage
ditched at shore.
The dunes spoil me with their grit
and pink hydrangeas.
Sunglasses
recover my eyes;
sunburn writhes
on my skull.
Hair in free fall, snarled and damp,
like anemones.
An assault
of coconut breeze
in true world;
admission
into twisted submission
of relaxing waves.
The sunspots
of Summer outbreak.
I bring pail
and shovel.
I shore up castle, today,
midst whirlpool of moat.
The true world
tries to interfere,
as I splash
cruel eyes.
My hands and feet completely
disappear…left - write!
Remove the joy from life
replace it with drudge
Fill a freshwater pond
with pitch-black sludge
Fish eyes bulge, gills choke
~ underwater's stroke
The flawless beat of a warrior's heart
Unflinching in a passioned breast.
Unfamed by drudge and dreary toil,
marching onward in a deathless quest.
Forged by iron in flaming truth,
each beat carved by an untouchable sword.
Unknown is a hero's sacred stance
upon the fabric of time's eternal Word.
When boredom knocks upon your door,
Life can become a dreadful bore,
Don’t fret, don’t cry, don’t belie your eyes,
For creative magic within this boredom lies.
Your mind, stuck in idle neutral gear,
Begins to wander, from here to far and near.
It dreams up worlds of pure wild delight,
Where dreams make hay, and pigs take flight.
You start to hum silly humdrum tunes,
Launch and pop, soap bubble balloons.
You doodle dragons, fierce and grand,
Build huge grandiose castles out of sand.
For when the mind has naught to do,
It finds crafty ways to something new.
It spirals, twirls, in happenstance.
Kicks up its heels in random dance.
You write a play, perform a skit,
For no one but your cat befit.
So three cheers to boredom, long may it last,
For it breaks the drudge of treadmill fast.
droll dragon’s drastic dragnet drizzles droopily
dreaming drones drudge dripping drops of drizzle
dredging and drenching dragon’s drastic dragnet
droll dromedary drives drooping dragnet’s drums
If there was a poem for every I love you of yours
That weighed more than I'll see you later
Poetry wouldn't exist
And that's why I cry, not your absence
So, by the time I drudge up the energy for goodbye
I digress, I'm done wasting time
p.s. I'll never let poetry die...
Inspiring music
uplifting art
riveting narratives
challenging our beliefs
Where are they
in the schools of today
tedious, drudge-work prisons
where imagination wastes away
It might begin with the sweet songs of birds
when sunrise blooms its glow, seeming divine.
We view the month to see those written words;
“Spring now begins” confirms our current sign.
The resurrection from grim Winter sleep
will move full-swing while buds unveil to stir.
Soft colors of new willow greens will sweep-
blot Winter drudge while brighter views recur.
Fresh hope rebirths the life in every soul
when Springtime flowers crown the rolling fields.
While gushing brooks from melted snow unroll-
the feeling of new life within us yields.
This mystery of rebirth gifts our Spring;
gives promise in new life for everything!
Snow White has put on her grey sludge dress,
turning from princess to drudge overnight,
She is a pidgin that takes its ill-fed feathers
to brighter patches of sky
seeking less frozen crumbs.
Roads have curbs of dark pack-ice,
we drive our carriages,
pink-eyed and just whiskers away
from a shivering daydream.
Horsepower pulls us through
to an evening that mimics the gray
face of the day.
Let it rain, let it splash this chill air
to dry, Spanish hills.
Ohio for now, has put its fairy tales away,
in sports bars we drink
until mugs slide between drowsy lips
as easy as slippers of glass.
Written: December 25, 2023
___________________________________
The phone did ring; can you hear?
Pillowing loss cursed by fear.
Drowning in distraught remorse,
Smoggy how we fell off course.
Once saffron shades burnt our path,
now murky vines choke with wrath.
days and nights drudge on insane,
Black cherry cold fills the veins.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.