Gauntlet Poems - Poems about Gauntlet

Step where I have stepped, tread where I have trod, weep what I have wept and crawl where I have clawed. Then, and only then, may you judge what I've selected - only then have you earned my yen, to abandon the gashes I've collected. Retreat not, then, I dare you, hovel not in your early barrow. Shelter not to make it through, hide not from...

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Gauntlet Of Time Calling me forward taking me back Promising nothing stepping over the cracks A doorway awaits threshold of pain Whose entrance is crumbling —to cross heaven gained (Villanova University: December, 2023) Over The Rainbow No difference between good and bad when eyes are caught between What matters most and matters least the treasure —sight unseen (Villanova University: December, 2023) ...

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~Running the Gauntlet ~ Simplistic in its structure… Nearly amateurish… Unpolished attempt… Superficial… Facile… Without subtlety… Nonsensical… Journalistic attempt at prose… Lack of complexity… Unimaginative… The underlying message is vacuous… Unsophisticated… Puerile attempt… Your submission is not appropriate at this time… Not for us… Not the right fit… Not quite right for this publication… We invite you to submit more… Do you have any other work we could consider… Your style is unique… Our interest is...

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Darkness was descending in a crawled dread, entering evening’s creepy gloom by that fence vile and sharp as evil silhouettes of greed’s luv.. In the narrow guarded gates, a Halloween alibi living open, is a walking workforce all powerful sporting eyes, bloodied, from searing naked souls… Gamblers risk the chains always snapping Ankles bound clank with...

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Searching for ideas necessary to our existence from legends We challenge the future —with voices from the past (Rock Springs Wyoming: September, 2021)...

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Crawling the serrated knife’s edge Oh, how the straight path to dreams winds Driving the lender’s car towards mirages retreating Tires still dry, one interview to the next Eaten a lot of oysters, no pearl yet Another day with the serial assailant of obligations Home, the abyss of borrowed things, ...

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Crossing the burning barriers, you take a fatal jump. Brazenly, but giving little away. Long shadows of ethnic clouds were eroding the sun. Feeling the wet lips you rub you sweaty palms in vain. Haunted, you would like to kill the ghosts. You pull a silken cord. A silver urn upturns the ashes of your past. Each truth walks without legs. You are still incomplete. The self-portrait will...

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slam it to me punk you think you’re so cool this bald headed old fart will take you to school you think you’re the first generation to revolt if you read a history book you’d know that’s a joke yes that’s a joke go ahead punk – take a poke hell i was sitting down in a war protest strike while guardsmen...

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