A wreath appeared before me -
or was it a noose?
My head soon thrust through it,
I was Bullwinkle Moose.
It happened so fast -
my thoughts in a whirl -
were I one or the other,
I'd be Rocky the Squirrel.
ANOTHER JULY 4TH FLASHBACK:2026
A 250 years historical celebration:
The emancipation of one group;
The near extinction of one group;
The centuries of slavery for another:-
Such a historical celebration
Of all we blessed three can only
Collectively be deemed a day of joy
In and through celebrating Amazing Grace:-
Thus let us all in celebrate the reality
That though we’re not where we should be
And though we have yet a way to go to get there
Praise God almighty we’re not where we once where:-
Fall is a time capsule.
Precious moments turn into memories we treasure.
We become collectors of flashbacks.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 2nd place 2026
A WAR-WORN FLASHBACK
As quiet
As it’s kept,
Wars continue
To win,
As peace
Likewise,
Continue
To lose:-
In war
Only death
Wins:
Dying peace
Loosing
As parentless
Children
Daily feed
Death—
Satisfying war’s
Wealth-Inspired hunger:-
Yet, we seem to
Continue to be
As unconcerned
As are the fires
Burning in hell:-
A FLOWERING FLASHBACK
Beautiful flowers,
Once growing free in nature,
Now up for sale:
Nature's flowers reflecting
An ebon human flashback:-
A birth of new life
In the middle of the night
He stands still
Showered upon the earth
Bringing new hope and beginnings
Accomplishing their will
The making of curiosity
The earth's feature
Brought his mind and body on a hill
The Rolling Stones,
a prominent singer of ANGIE
“UNDER MY THUMB,
the girl who once had me down”
He may wish to create a portrait,
and PAINT IT BLACK
When people make wishes,
He says “YOU CAN’T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT”
It’s autumn now,
TUMBLIN DICE here and there
When going to barn,
WILD HORSES seen afar
Being in an odd town,
HONKY TONK WOMEN lived there
Each day a new beginning,
like emerald Monday and RUBY TUESDAY
THE PRESENT JUNETEENTH: A 2025 Juneteenth Flashback
Beginning with the celebration
Of our Juneteenth,
We prepare a new perspective
For the 4th of July:-
Though this nation now stands stalled
On the brink, she remains our nation
That she is also our nation too, there
Can be no lie!
What a uniqueness her oppressed people
Now share?
Two juxtaposed emancipation celebrations
Back-to-back:
Going from these times, only the future knows
To where:-
Oh what an interesting time it is for those of us
Born black,
And indigenous ones contemplating it all in utter
Amazement!
As for us, our eyes on the prize focus, must remain
In the present;
No more standing around in a sad dismayed whine:-
It’s celebration Time!
P.S.: Remember this, my Brothers and Sisters:-
“…We may not be
Where we want to be;
We may not be
Where we ought to be;
We may not be
Where we gonna be;
But praise God! We ain’t
Where we once were!”
Please play a song for me Jan, in flashback
A song that brings lovely memories back
I well remember days from long ago
How we adored our musical maestro.
We'd stand round the piano as you played
Mesmerised by the sounds your fingers made
And here you are many decades gone by
Tickling the ivories, and still we sigh.
We jumped and played in the meadow, I'm alone on the porch.
May 17, 2025.
memories come creeping
flashbacks to grief
ignoring the happy moments I treasure
in my soul
A bowl of cereal
The crunch of memory
Sweetened with blueberries
Grief is an earthquake, sudden and unforgiving,
Splitting the ground beneath your feet,
Turning the familiar into fractured ruin.
It shakes the foundations of who you are,
Toppling memories like crumbling buildings,
Leaving nothing but dust where laughter once stood.
Aftershocks linger in the quiet moments,
A tremor in your chest, a crack in your voice.
You try to rebuild, but the landscape has changed-
The world tilts differently without them in it.
Some days, you step forward, thinking the worst has passed,
Only to stumble as the earth quivers once more,
A song, a scent, a whispered name-
And suddenly the fault lines widen,
Swallowing you whole in a moment’s collapse.
Times move on, but the wreckage remains,
Slowly, painfully, you clear the rubble,
Learning to build around the gaps,
Knowing the scars will never fade,
But hoping, one day, the ground will hold steady again.
And as the years pass, you realize-
No matter how many walls you raise,
Or how many roads you pave over the broken earth,
You are still standing in the ruins of what once was,
Waiting for a home that will never be rebuilt.
I'm a dark-hued poetic mind
Writing mine:
Inking navel keloid words
Water-broken
From pregnant
Thoughts
YES
But even these I want to share
For sharing is caring:
About love
About peace
About freedom
About babes
About bombs
And about lumbering shadows of life
Silhouetting hungry death
YES
I'm a dark-hued poetic mind
Writing mine
A cranial reservoir dripping
Spear-tipped words
Dripping cognitive flows
Conjuring
Cosmic
Consciousness
Defying
The cryptic
Void of silence
flashback
our
adolescence
fantasy
retro
adult
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