honestly,
idk what im doing
im not a poet
nor a genius...
SIKE
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
Gotcha!!!!!!!!!
anyways
drumroll please.
...
...
hello?
y'know what?
forget the drumroll...
Fredrick Mitchell's brand new poem...
IDFK
i, don't know...
where to go.
i, forgot,
my way home.
i worked hard, and my brain is mush,
guess i'll black out and faint in a bush.
today was the last day 'til my quota.
my deadline is due,
to bring my poem to you!
i'm tired, and forgot
how to spell the word shew
the thing you put on your foot.
i found my way home,
using google maps
this stupid siri voice, is giving me the craps,
my day has been ruined,
and my day is soon end,
just listen to this voice
"turn down at the bend."
it thinks im driving,
im walking...
this deadpan poem
is getting boring.
and like an old man, im already snoring
i sleepily unlock my door...
and...
my key broke.
FOR FU-
...
ahem,
im too tired for this...
*beep, beep! beep, beep!*
"hey, Frank... can i go to your place. my key broke... again."
...
"yes, i know its the middle of the night."
...
"and i know your on a date."
...
"i've got a key to your house. bye!"
screw my life.
Wind wafting wisteria blooms, so gently;
In the purple haze of laid-back summer.
Milky moon gazes through onyx, intently
Red rose shivers, at drumroll of thunder.
Honeyed noon longs for rainbow sunset;
And sable shadows start to sneak away.
Sunrise on molten sea, liquid gold asset!
Yesterday lives in vibrant heart of today.
Farewell flowers. Hail pretty colors, fall!
In beauty, scarlet cardinal is still singing.
Trampled, hued leaves of nature's thrall,
Of no end. Mauve butterflies are winging.
Just a few more minutes
Drumroll leading up to a euphoric crescendo
April marathon about to start
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
"Flowers fade and decay through wintry hours- waiting for rebirth."
Quote by - Constance La France
Nature's repeats, and the world turns.
What disappears, one day, returns.
So, why am I melancholy and sad?
I should be feeling glad.
Leaves that decay will fertilize
the seeds produced when a plant dies.
What will Spring's new life recall?
That which perished in Fall.
Even stars will one day explode
leaving darkness where they once glowed.
Do they make heavy elements? That true?
They make up me and you.
A recycled star warms the earth
to bring on Spring's joyful rebirth.
Can I have a drumroll from the drummer?
Peak growth comes in summer.
A cycle of growth and decay
is Mother Nature's graceful way,
but will I fear her poised clock hand, steady?
I hope I'll be ready.
A lonely wind tells me its secrets
Treats me to its scented memories
Apologizes for its inconsistencies
While hiding in a slow rising fog
She claims she is but a pawn
Held hostage by the sun and sea
Warm vapors stir the forming clouds
Icy waters chill the air below
The battle sweeps her into its path
Spins her in a tornadic dance
An unseen sun calls the devils tune
A drumroll as warming waters roil
And yet her sister lifts a falling leaf
Sets it gently on a chilling lawn
Riffles the marching rows of corn
Colors the cheeks of school bound children
Thus, she bids a hurried farewell
For stillness is the harbinger of fate
On leaving blows an icy kiss
As friends arrive in hoar frost coats
My prison is a place known all to well.
It brings joy to some and holds terror for most.
The air becomes heavy as I am forced to listen,
and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was declared treason.
the opportunities keep on getting cooler,
but the techniques that are used have always been quite peculiar.
I begin to ponder if it’s indirect torture,
taking its course gradually over time.
I wish that I could resurrect my euphoria,
even so, I have to return annually and I have no choice but to keep this
nostalgia.
All I can think about upon entering those gates is my downfall.
In spite of that, all I want to hear at the end of the year is a drumroll.
I’m well aware that it’s true and good for me,
however, it doesn’t hold a good tune,
Oh how I wish it could have been a better melody.
Boron fusion, specifically proton-boron-11 (p-B11) fusion, the path to clean and sustainable energy> Advantages is that fusion is safer because it produces no neutrons, only alpha particles, and uses abundant, non-radioactive fuel.
The same Sub-atomic reactions that power the sun and sssssstars.Monitering dust accumulation, using techniques called glow discharge cleaning.
The natural of the beast
in it's creation
one looks toward
its significance
to understand it's value
looking to the future
one would wish to
hasten and rushing
through the frivolous ends
to get to the
main event
the day they
we have achieved
our goals
and maintains then
is the only
obstacle
we are facing
represent the concept of fusion energy
synthesizers, strings (like violins and cellos), and percussion (especially gongs and timpani, a drumroll in introduction.
i sat down,
and filled out an online questionnaire ,
that they didn't write,
they wanted me to lie,
pen tapping,
like a slow drumroll before the painful hanging.
have you ever felt hopeless?
who hasn’t?
do you ever think of dying?
don’t we all?
do you hear voices?
only the single one that keeps me company.
the questions were rigged,
like a loaded deck,
at the hard rock casino here in Tampa.
she wasn't even a shrink,
and now her words decide my fate,
words scribbled for a paycheck
stamped official by women in white coats
who don’t care if I make it out alive.
they called the sheriff,
had me cornered,
had me drowning in fear,
be honest, but not too honest,
or we’ll make the choice for you.
betrayed by health and psychiatry
betrayed my trust,
betrayed by a system they help fix,
that never wanted me well,
just wanted me quiet.
i am,
closer to seventy than to sixty,
why don't I have the right to have some control over what I put into my body?
the same control that they want over
their reproductive rights, wombs and -
The leader, philosophical and wise,
Ends his speech after a long silent pause,
His true followers with half open eyes
Responding with admiring oohs and aahs.
Turn up the mic on the silence to hear
A leader's lust for worship and control,
Minds whirring like a quickly turning gear,
'Bout how what he said put them in this hole.
Hear tapping ant feet, a drumroll will grow
Til it reaches a thousand decibels;
But, are they coming to pay tribute? - no!
They're here to eat him with ant mandibles.
Great guru, great king, try this on for size -
A lengthy silence is not always wise.
The drumroll, too heavy for May
rumbles on ... abruptly halts
Cadets at attention rigidly
silently, duty-bound ...
In measured tones, a psalm floats on
a breeze made limp by heat
Taps screams out, the flag is lowered
to its echoes, a box sinks down...
Cadets as still as statues still
'til cadence soft of drums resumes
Their comrade now interred for aye
eyelids lowered, red the sky
The mind eternal lies before us always.
Less pure in tone, we come to it drenched with life;
Fearless companion in our hour of days.
A purity not withstanding breadth of knife.
Away! Away! succubus death,
much less a breach than I.
How many not mislaid in breath,
In priceless toll, said duty to be paid.
No field of honored memories
they preach without belie.
Captured each, and each with closed fist shouting;
Me or not, Cold or hot, we stand between as choice;
all for desperate screams grown silent.
Pastoral in the presence, of one solitary voice,
Whose form of words so hesitantly mouthing.
Whence came we witness to the stream.
Whose eyes are these that hold our field a-view?
Memories whose touch a solid scream;
Form ignored and glory gored of few.
We are not the man.
No animal or simple word defined.
We pause, we pleasure, we perform,
With speck, and all our mind deform;
Our fingers will one day unfold.
Our torrid tortured tale be told.
Yours, mine, ours,
Drumroll spam-like dance,
Become the gist of one more fist
To smash against the sand.
He couldn’t wait,
Not any longer, he’d held out all year.
So he parked the car at Lookout Hill
And nibbled on her ear.
He couldn’t stop.
The drumroll of his heart was deafening,
He laid the seat back and gave her a kiss,
She couldn’t believe this was happening.
She held him close
Within the caverns of her breasts
And couldn’t look into his eyes
While she was being undressed.
She closed her eyes
Trying to shut out what was being done to her
Trying to envision something else, anything
Would have been better than this.
When he was done
He put his seat upright and lit a cigarette.
She got herself together as best she could
But it wasn’t over yet.
He drove her home.
He had found out for sure she had had no other.
His wife met them at the door, and passing her in the doorway
The girl said “Goodnight, Mother.”
Written for a Creative Writing class in 1990, assignment: a court case given to us to reflect in a poem.
I want to ride a zebra
and race the rays of radiance
through heat-waves’ sailing gradients -
a folly wild - a mood untamed
elated hands in bristled mane
unbridled veins uncorked champagne...
yes! elevate sedate heart rate
I WANT to ride a zebra
stripes yin yang oasis sweet and
whimsy rules a drumroll beat as
gallop sways euphoric roughness
crossing plains of dreamy lushness -
steed’s exotic tender toughness
pacing thrills in state of luscious...
yes! animate to sate my wait
I want to RIDE a zebra
savanna grass a grand expanse
a lion’s roar - hyena's rant
amuse myself with peril’s speed
adventure sows romantic’s seed... so
gestate date with fancy’s fate
YES! I want to ride a Z E B R A !
Here comes judgment day
The day of reckoning
Where fates are decided
And verdicts rendered
Futures lie in the wait
The drumroll of anticipation
Admitting there’s no hope
For submissions that are late
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on March 6, 2019 for contest JUDGE THE JUDGE sponsored by BOBBY MAY - RANKED 2ND
Angel on hindsight
Foul on an area of light. A vanishing monk.
A living stalk. A living hen.
Drumroll - please.
Hence we fly, I dry.
What do we say, quiet please.
I fly like an eagle. I walk like the empty spirit.
Ecstatic Bombastic Flying.
Bravo my friend, you are welcome to heaven.
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