Stark emptiness fills my perfume bottle,
The vacuum in my vacuity,
Negligence swills it beyond the dottle,
To leave my mind bare of acuity.
For many days its void of content speaks,
But its endurance keeps my freshness plump,
Compliments make its vast emptiness squeaks,
Yet it exhales resentment from its pump.
My shirts already miss its friendliness,
Noses beg to sniff its unique sweetness,
Stale air asks to reclaim lost cleanliness,
Its presence ensures far-reaching neatness.
Importance is etched upon your label,
How I so much miss your fresh aroma,
Your sweet tale cannot be told as fable,
The freshness you bring can't end in coma.
Listen to the wind:
it roars, it murmurs,
righteously chants --
In gusty breaths, exhales, rants,
tempestuously pants.
In tyrants it wails --
tearing sleeves
and billowing sails.
It reddens, it pales
the ruddy faces of non compliant seamen
and blithering, pompous beached whales.
Perhaps this poem, too hastily sown
Should have read the rules
before breeze and blown
and not so far from the guidelines would
this pen have wont to roam. But in hindsight,
wind stirs in many out of main focus ways
blossoms beyond bordered-grid of a well centered garden
in orphaned airs, for some, yet, may glisten their sways --
noon’s furnace: asphalt shimmers; air—thick, slow—
cracks open. cicadas drill through stagnant gold.
a sprinkler’s hiccup-hiss: the pavement’s glow
un/curls in steam. the hydrant’s shout: uncontrolled.
children shriek!—a liquid burst of now,
popsicle rivers bleed; knuckles—sticky, green—
cling to handlebars. shadows stretch: thin, lean
across chain-link. each blade of grass—laid down—
bakes. but dusk? a match-strike: fireflies!—
the yard exhales jasmine; stars prick the bruised eaves—
porch swings gasp. the melted things—still writhing—
pool in gutters: chalk suns, lemon peels, dreams.
the silence hums. even time—soft, unspooled—
beads on your neck. and summer? stays. but cooled.
Leaves descend on whispered breath,
Like letters lost, unsent, unread,
The earth exhales a chilled caress,
Where fading days in silence tread.
October threads its smoky skein,
Weaving tales in dusk's embrace,
Each word a leaf, a fleeting stain,
Drifting slow through time and space.
Cold winds hum in hollow halls,
Where promises dissolve to mist,
The twilight's pulse in shadows falls,
A hollow song the dusk has kissed.
Yet dawn replies with softened voice,
A cardinal's sharp cry unfolds,
It speaks of loss, it speaks of choice,
Of whispered love the season holds.
One amber morn, the trees converse,
Their leaves like whispers, bold and free,
Not just decay, but verse and verse—
When autumn speaks, it speaks to me.
A hush falls soft on waking land,
Where silver threads through silence stand,
The trees half-dream in veils of white,
Bathed in the breath of fading night.
The sun, a whisper on the hill,
Spills golden ink, yet all is still.
The world in pause, a sacred hush—
The mist moves slow, the day won't rush.
Each blade of grass wears nature's lace,
Each droplet holds the sky’s embrace.
The crows call low, their wings outspread,
Through morning's gauze, both seen and led.
The earth exhales its ghostly sigh,
And writes a verse across the sky.
In that brief spell, all time seems kissed—
By silence, light, and morning mist.
Hold the Applause – Pick a Title Vol. 52, 6-8-25, Sponsor Edward Ibeh
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hold the Applause
Hold the applause
As the last note holds it’s breath
Before the keynote
Exhales
Before the melody
Takes a solitary journey
Into a taciturn hush.
Nascent
Waits
Like an incognito coda,
A second ending,
Rejecting the downbeat of resolution.
A breathless
Motif
Expands
Into the glorious,
Unfolding
Into fresh synonyms,
Anointed arias,
Unfolding like auroras
In stanzas
Pregnant with commas.
When day exhales its golden breath,
And dusk begins her gentle dance,
The sun slips low, a fiery thread
Unraveling the sky's last chance.
Between the hush of light and dark,
The world holds still, in reverie,
A moment cast in purple spark—
A whisper caught mid-mystery.
The trees are shadows, tall and wise,
The stars yet shy behind the veil,
While lovers walk with quiet sighs
And dreams set sail without a sail.
It is a time the heart recalls
Some long-lost song, a faded call,
Where silence speaks, and evening falls—
Not loud, but deep… and over all.
Snapshot! - a shutter impales,
a life to clicks, betwixt inhales and exhales.
Light into pixels, bloodshot in frames
kidnapped for a ransom of sometimes soon.
Snap! - a dry twig fractures under boot,
its echo resounding in forest shot.
Too brittle is the log of memories
we captured when we said we won't.
Shot! - the Sheriff, not the Deputy,
for he blinked and she pulled a face.
Both instantly aged by taking photos
of bygones not let it be, that refused to fade.
Snap! - of fingers cracked the hush,
a starter’s pistol shot with less smoke.
Called all and sundry to attention,
before all duck-dived for cover behind hands.
Between! - the blinks of eyelid snaps on eyes,
the video of endless life lives on,
in the stares and glares of film not shot freelance,
in a trance that freedom can ever be believed.
Words captured in amber for all eternity—valued for their unique resilience as the tides of time cannot erode them. Our deeds like skipping stones on water sink in although they go unrecorded; the ripples soon fading from memory, becoming a distorted reflection in a cracked mirror.
tides gather the echoes to be expelled in a sigh
a melancholy
taint the turbulent waters
washing up on the shores of life
the waves
reaching the sandcastles of desire
an undercurrent
dragging the dreams out to sea
an occasional regret
never on display
fading with time
r.i.p.p.l.e.d dreams
like R I L L S on the breach …
extending a hand in friendship
being the rock in someone’s life
leaves one with a sense of
PURPOSE
as tidal excire exhales …
Vice like grip unseen yet tight
Pressure building through the night
It bends the light distorts the sound
A silent storm where pain is crowned
My temples pulse in steady aches
Like thunder’s growl before it breaks
Yet in its grip a lesson found
My mind is strong though pain is bound
Then comes relief in a soft embrace
A quiet calm with a slower pace
Verde eases weight and strain
A gentle hand on tethered pain
The mind exhales, the body sighs
Like golden light in smoky skies
A softened world in a peaceful glow
Letting my weary spirit flow
Written: May 11, 2025, for contest by Joseph May
*************
A crimson sky breaks the distant shore,
Whispers of dawn amidst a quiet uproar.
The sea exhales a deep-seated hope,
Awakening dreams where echoes cope.
Sailing through the waves, the sails expand,
Symbols of bravery, a gently twirling strand.
The horizon promise shines as a bright guide,
Leading my spirit beyond the dimming side.
From the shadows, the wings of time ascend,
Caressing sunlight with lofty dreams, transcend.
On paths yet to be discovered, hearts reignite;
Every step becomes a life that is requite.
I Got Her
motherhood is fraught with mistakes
hanging from her charm bracelet
hourglass wrist; anchor was hooked
she’s silent as I longed for her to erupt
I needed her warm ear, not judgment
one thing I did wrong; not the worst
much later she stabbed me with her kiss
those lips left a saturated wound; grab chest
I was brave; I handed her the tray of hurt
oh how quickly, blinking tears, she apologized
I hang that memory on my high school bracelet
I tuck it away to reuse when I ostracize progeny
air punches like exhales, soft hands, soft heart
must lay out my cards - she was better than the rest
some moms are rabid, some too friendly
I found my mom just right; her sayings wrong
she advises me, “There’s more fish in the boat.”
I lay down the ace, “Yes, Mom, and they’re all dead.”
she’d fall upstairs, get blood poisoning, eventually cancer,
loved her soaps, got news from the tabloids - I got her!
The city exhales steam like a tired beast,
its breath pooling in alleyways
where no one walks anymore.
Cold, wet cobblestones gleam
like the backs of forgotten coins,
each one holding a secret
you must step lightly not to disturb.
Streetlamps blink like they’re remembering
how to dream—
orange halos shivering on the slick asphalt,
casting shadows
with no one to belong to.
Shop windows sleep behind
grimy glass and rolled-down gates,
whispering to each other
in the hush of the sodium dark.
Rain slicks the world into a mirror
and I walk through it—
a ripple in the ghost of a market square,
where footsteps echo
as if they're unsure
whether they’re mine or someone else's
long gone.
Neon signs flicker with old jazz—
an inaudible tune,
all hush and blue
and the smell of wet iron
lingering like a lover's forgotten scarf.
I am alone, but the night is not empty.
It is full of watching things—
brick mouths and sewer grates,
broken clocks stuck at almost midnight,
windows that sigh when no one’s listening.
The city speaks its truest voice
only when no one asks.
She tells me she loves me,
but I see the way her hands hesitate,
hover in the air before they touch me,
like she’s afraid I might crack beneath them.
I know what she means when she asks,
"Are you okay today?"
She’s not asking about today.
She’s asking if I’ll disappear into my head again,
if my silence will feel like a locked door,
if I’ll forget how to laugh.
I try to explain, but words crumble.
How do you tell someone you love them
when half the time you don’t even like yourself?
She tells me I’m not too much,
but I see the way she exhales when I finally smile,
like she’s been holding her breath,
waiting to see if today is a good day or a heavy one.
I love her,
I do.
I just don’t know how to stop making her wonder
if I’ll be whole tomorrow.
Walking down the riverside at twilight,
the sun turns red — a burning star — bleeding into the sky.
A quiet star sinks, leaving whispers in its wake,
and I drift in the glow, wandering wild and free.
The wind whooshes softly, a melody of dusk,
where shadows stretch and the earth exhales,
the memory of a sun that'd been shining for days.
I am one with the river, lost beneath the echoes of time.
The waters, like mirrors, dance in pale moonlight,
drawing secrets from the fading heavens.
And the breeze, a chilly blow, cherishes my soul,
while the world slips into the warm arms of night.
The river, a silver thread, weaves its song,
and I, a whisper in its flow.
As the sky melts into shades of violet and gold,
I breathe in deep, letting the moment wash over me,
feeling time slip away, like the river flowing endlessly.
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