CANADA SIX NIL
CANADIANS IN A THRILL
GO FURTHER WE WILL
Cherry blossoms and oranges,
the sweet smell creating a sickening aroma.
Maybe not the cherry blossoms or the oranges,
but that off glare of the sun paired with the irony smell blood and animal rot.
Although, it could be that thing over there.
Drawn to the cherry blossoms and oranges.
Mary! Mary!
Cries the wind
Our children dead
By your maddened ways.
I curse these barren prairies
Our mildened soil by your fruitful hands
Leave no lasting grace.
I run naked and wildened
Like savage and buffalo
Sleeping abreast sagebrush.
Darker clouds gathered yonder
Where lightning falls.
I huddle so
A corpse
In waiting.
A past the soul, eats
Memories of people
Event of many seats
Rained on. the steeple
Church prepped proper
Pews filled, flowers decked
White gowned, the monster
The future not yet wrecked
Confetti and photo shoot
A grand reception follow
Live band and MC to boot
Something, rings hollow
Joined in unholy union
Stoic empath and diva
For now, in communion
Twixt novelty driven fever
The mirror will break
Pierfect no more
Prisoners to take
To a distant shore
Blame games ensue
Victim turns villain
The truth to lose
Years two score ,fill in
Deep pulse starts to rise high
As a burning fever mounts and spirit ascends
To the sky
Dim turns the light
Each breath, a soft sweet song, extends
The night
Senses
Bloom and transcends
Joy
Deep pulse starts to rise high
Each breath, a soft sweet song, extends
Joy.
Deep in the pine woods,
Small glass panes reflect
Warmth of a stone hearth.
Dust motes rise slow;
Cabin smells of sap.
Winter's world outside.
Body on the bed burns with fever.
Morning seems brighter, yellowish.
sunlight soaks my dirt-shrunk shirt.
A small page slips from a book,
written: "Take care of yourself."
Liquid gathers in the corners of the eyes.
That silent evening - "yes,"
a touch of her soft hand.
And tired legs roamed through a long day.
Two or three promises were counted
at day's end, the last rays of the sun faded.
Dusk creepily settles in dreamy eyes.
Thunder shudders my fragmented thoughts.
The curtain laps slothfully in a mild wind.
Raindrops drizzle, pattering outside -
Fresh pink petals stare from the green lawn.
Shadows depressed along silent walls;
Loneliness aches where sunlight fails.
A Romantic, Passionate or Sad Crystalline Poem Poetry Contest
2/1/2026
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
I've watched
Silent
in rooms
Next to
Saints and souls
Stories
Of love
Melt my
heart
Like church
candels
Alone
Feels like
the inside of
A freezer
With the
door shut
I'm
lost
like a blueberry
On the floor
of a supermarket
Your Words
replayed
in a time capsule
Thrown thru space
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the sky bleeds yolk over Saint-Rémy,
a fever-bright wash, thick as summer’s breath.
mountains crouch in indigo, their edges
softened by dusk’s bruising fingers.
grasses shiver—coarse strokes of emerald,
ochre, jade—a restless sea halted mid-sway.
a farmhouse kneels, its red roof smoldering
against the slope’s drowsy violet.
twisted trees claw at the light,
their crooked fingers sketching shadows
across the meadow’s thistly skin.
the fence stands tightly drawn.
A coughing coffin,
When befriending HIV —
A double trouble;
They both bring death in a private jet.
Its cough is tough,
Appetite grows tight,
Its fever can boil a river,
And weight is lost as death awaits.
Treat it — that’s how to beat it,
For death is a debt.
So don’t shrug off the drugs —
Complete them at least.
Stigma erupts like magma,
Losing friends becomes a trend;
Though the battle may rattle you,
Revival will bring survival.
His fever broke her
With such lying charm
Her spirit woke her
To his mental harm
Left that sad joker
I know it's not iambic pentameter but I was intentionally going for a 5/5/ababa quintain and Sicilian was the closest.
.
she took me by
surprise
hern eve
i query'd
thuh green eye'd brunette (cautiously)
"does ya know
that bed fits
one"
she spoke not thuh
reply
hern purty spoke
she scooch'd over
tight
'gainst the wall
bare
neath mine terry bath sheet and
pat'd thuh down
hern coy
wink'd
People who live
Away from others
Are not necessarily mean
Solitary or anti-social
Perhaps they can't tolerate
Hypocrisy, fabrication
And realistic attitudes in their lives.
In the quiet dark I see
every end
Clumps of hair stuck
to the walls
blood from under each door
there is someone in the closet, lurking
I feel it
delicacy is lost in my heart
I was made from violence
raised of violence
will end in violence
I have long cradled the bullet in the teeth
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