Witchy Longstockings has three wildly competitive cats
They like playing on her ginger braids which extend to the flats
She knocks them off gently, and they always land on their feet
Then she mentions their kibble and they trot off to eat.
how much is habit
I must extend to see
already written in the s t a r s
do I map
my neural pathways
into a sky against my will
shall I fight it
break free
of rhythm & repeat
or go gently
fearing not trajectory
or expectation
to draw upon night skies
trace how I ache
until I'm whispered to
by the moon
tempt me forward
to step out of line
from relentless linear existence
for I am free & unfettered
no arcs predetermined
yet with regret
always full circles drawn
Written By: D. Collins 3/8/26
It was the word used when Spain killed the Aztecs.
Is it now America's agenda if Cuba is next?
Venezuela and Iran were the first on the list.
Hopes to reign in Canada was abruptly dismissed.
Are Mexico and Brazil within obtainable sites?
Since they don't have nukes or our military might.
The conquest may extend to Argentina and Peru.
Our bullying tactics are what all bullies do.
Iran is the exception that has gotten us drawn in.
Israel finally found a bloke to fight the war for them.
The conquest is moving forward with ferver and passion.
What we once called wars are labeled kinetic actions.
Dedicated to George Stinney Jr
The mind of a child
Is one supposed to be filled with innocence
But his was clouded with fear
Barely out of the womb
And already he would be buried in a tomb
He barely had time to start life
Barely had time to love and be loved
He barely had time to be a son
He would make history
Just not how he would've imagined
He would become the youngest person on death row
Youngest person to be executed on death row
A black boy who never got to be a boy
His last thoughts were a prayer
To be saved, to be seen, to be given a chance
'Are you there God, its me george'
Unfortunately God's grace doesn't extend to his black 'children'
Unfortunately his life was cut short
Unfortunately he wouldn't get to grow old
Apparently he wasn't deemed worthy enough for 'God's love'
Justice was never served
Even after 81 years
A gem there is, that’s nestling inside me
(my husband claims I’m talking utter rot):
I tell him that I’m certain that I’ve got
homunculi who really want to ride me.
He knows the satisfaction he’s denied me:
(since nineteen ninety-four, delivered squat).
But men have egos, have to show as ‘hot’,
and I’ve allowed this utter fraud to guide me.
“De minimis,” they say, “non curat lex”.
‘The law does not extend to trivial things’.
But I’m aware that love is borne on wings:
as John Wayne said, we’re better Tex than Mex.
We women have our crystals, men their pecs,
but they have no monopoly on flings.
He said ‘Saving the world’s in your hands.
Look how you sparkle, see how you shine?
So crucial the poet understands,
what pours out of your pores is so fine.’
Upon hearing those words I fell back,
I never believed that I was seen.
That focus on writing’s a fast track.
Sweet and salty breeze so dynamic,
transports you to any place you pick;
Nearby towns extend to far off lands,
you connect through a web so divine;
Across an endless sea to white sands,
harness the power of your coastline.
With a pen and towel in a knapsack
soak in the ocean’s aquamarine;
Step in the shallows make chaos crack.
Stanzas filled with lines so eccentric,
the Muse tends to be panoramic.
Those who dishonor the mother tongue,
Do not disgrace the blue flag as a diaper.
The blue flag, which was raised without a fall,
Was carried by hero from bullets in January’s call.
Our flag, the color of the sky so vast,
Is the embrace we extend to the sun at last.
We are like the boundless blue sky,
We are as bright as the golden sun up high.
As my inspiration rides, it’s pure and true,
No force can stop me or subdue.
When my blue flag flutters in the breeze,
Kazakh people bow to no enemy, with ease.
In twilight, riding the soft winds so slight
Above peaks, about to cradle the stars,
Two avian are flights' whispers of light
Flowing gentle, where the horizon bars
Tracing the lovers; a "V" shape crescent,
Her wingman steadfast, bright and bold his grace,
With feathers aglow, in a hush unbent,
A dance of the heart, in love's warm embrace
Spectating flowers in awe grow below,
Shadows long, they extend to each their wing,
They glide on breezes, where soft rivers flow,
Not fall birds of prey, but the songs of spring
With each graceful turn, they map out the skies,
In harmony's notes, upon sun-lights beams,
A journey unfolds, where their wild hope lies,
Elegant like silk, within looming dreams
In twilight, riding the soft winds so slight
Flowing gentle, where the horizon bars
Trumpets of purity, dressed in all white,
Two swans in flight are the whispers of light
when i look at you
i see your unpretentious smile
the amiable twinkle in your eye
the hand you extend to strangers
i hear the kind words you give us all
i feel the warmth of your touch
i see the compassion in your heart
there's someone for everyone
or so they say
beauty being in the eye of the beholder
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
I am not artistic, but
I signed up for a class
To learn to make mosaics
Out of little bits of glass.
We studied some examples
From a long-past ancient date
Then received our own materials
With which we could create.
I watched my classmates jump right in,
Ideas at their command,
While staring blankly at the tiles
And glue I had at hand.
With paper and a pencil,
I can quickly craft a rhyme.
My talents don’t extend to places
Where the words aren’t prime.
Yet I’ll complete my project
And will proudly bring it home,
Knowing it will never equal
Even my worst-written poem.
I love love!
I love how its boundaries are limitless.
I love how it always has more lessons to teach.
I love that no matter how much we love…
inside our hearts…there is always more love within reach.
I like to imagine there is this river of love flowing through us
carrying love on the grandest scale.
ready to ferry us wherever our love takes us…
waiting for us to set sail.
This river has endless tributaries…
infinite branches that never end’
carrying us to everyone and everything on Earth
beginning with our family and friends.
But its rivulets also extend to food and drink…
to books and movies
to music and dance and art…
It’s amazing when you think about it…
how much love is in our heart.
Since this river is never ending…
up ahead we’ll find new channels and creeks and streams.
We’ll meet new people and places and things to love
fueled by our hopes and our wishes and dreams.
Our boat is moored down by the river…
On it…everything we need to survive is stored….
riding our river of love is easy…
all you have to do…is climb aboard.
The lay of the land
Ramadan is going green; eat cabbage stew before dawn
and leave the cattle feel safe from men with long knives
I think of Israel, a none Muslim state, where the Jews
are demonstrating against the fanatics, who are, at heart
Fascists; the wish is, for them, to extend to lend a hand
to the long-suffering Palestinians.
In Europe, people are tired of the proxy war between
Russia and the USA; they are finally seeing Ukraine for
what it is, a fascist country that, with the help of NATO
Illegally grabbed power; they are wrong to think that
NATO fights for them.
It is with sorrow I see Finland joining the NATO outfit
that will build bases near the Russian border and sow
Discontent in a nation of thousands of lakes that have lived
In peace, with the larger neighbour, since 1954.
One wonders when Germany will break free of chains
Saddled with the burden of the past, weighing them down.
The French are marching in the streets, protesting to
the curtailing of their right; but it is a pointless struggle
unless they – the people- declare a general strike
till Macron’s regime falls.
Before us lies a week of tricks or treats.
But I beckon you to join me in a time of treats.
Kids are presently tricked more and treated less.
In a season giving rise and unfolding evils yet untold,
May we extend to kids bags of sweets with no bitterness.
And we pray that God will hold back the curtain of darkness.
102322PSCtest, Bitesize Poem no.55. Line Gauthier
You who had seen my next of kin
Dining and wining near a bin
And you forgot to raise a din
Or had minded your Gripping Gin…
It was A War you did not win,
Though Loss reports not on The Skin
Like would Incisive Pricks of Pin
Or handiwork of Wounding Tin…
Your love, please, extend to My Kin
In Water Fish that needs Your Fin:
Never mind his mischievous grin
Nor like God be counting his sin…
Cherub's unfurled fingers faithfully extend to his fallow fringe
hung from a chest made firm by suede, sweat and rain.
Chernobyl blue irises mimic April '86 radiation,
dessimating her Cherokee's sense of societal decency.
Devoted to her capture, suede cape kidnapped,
kept protected.
Kernel lodges promise in her gut, cob of compassion sprouts
from yellow potential.
Shrewd Indian whisks his skin of citrine amber sap seraphim
away, to landscape blameless bare.
Motor mumbles underwater torture breathes through
chrome clothing.
Frothy stew swirling storm of snake flesh snow flakes.
Cherub's education quells emotion, pain never developed.
Teepee tall frame levitates in opaque of inequitable love.
Flimsy slim strands strong in Cherub's raised comprehension.
Fringe flown backwards flattens beneath her face,
bohemian bombastic.
Dislodged sand grains foretell
Grasp nestled naive fledgling
Prospered pillion flame
7th June 2022
Written for Contest:
Like A Child
Sponsor:
Regina McIntosh
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