remember childhood
some ate glue others cut hair
dangerous mixture
dull safety scissors
elmers glue bottles, glitter
tattered valentines
overwhelmed teacher
in sticky situations
over running sink
I lost my mind today -
Oh boy -
and all the thoughts I had
just seemed to vanish
in the haze
surrounding my head
It seemed so wise -
so potent -
so infinitely dull -
complete with thought, effete with pomp
emblazoned on its skull.
An ounce of heart
a pound of spleen
a smattering of phlegm
A bit of code
a bunch of will
And a thick soup of memes:
All this was all mixed
and cut to bits
A chewy marble blend
From which I built
A vague relief
Of life that I intend:
Where has it gone, do tell me?
Where is my upscale mind?
I look without,
I look within,
But nothing can I find.
It seems the mind has melted
And I must build anew
Today's mind-melded structure
With but a quart of glue.
The balance of the world,
The nurturers of blessings,
The creators of life.
The glue of unity,
The pillars of strength,
The guardians of dignity.
The givers of joy,
The sharers of love,
The keepers of the soul.
You are truly special and wonderful.
Happy International Women’s Day.
My little sister and I just never seemed to catch up to the rest of the family. When we had just entered our most impressionable years, we were plucked up from the beloved town of Wakenda and plopped down in another story altogether. So, we would sit around and listen to all the stories, jokes, and folklore about the old town like it was a shrine or something. Shortly after we left, the entire town was wiped out in a flood, so we couldn’t even go back and try to recover what we had missed. Take every opportunity to create lasting memories with your family and friends. You’ll never know when you might lose the chance.
good memories
bind us together
make all you can
I will be the glue
For our bridge of love so true.
I'll never leave you,
Even in our darkest storms.
I'm just as headstrong as you.
I am a magnet
Love attracts everything love
I am love my love
Awake me muse, for I need to commit,
To something, anything that will keep me fit
Before me sits, an unbuilt kit,
waiting for me to assemble it
With steady hands ready to work,
Unboxing, pulling out pieces,
for all they are worth
Parts and pieces dispersed here and there,
instructions interpreted as somewhat fair
Leave it to me, I’ll get it done,
better late than never, I told someone.
Time has come, to glue this to that,
prime, sand, then paint all that
To finish the task at one’s feet,
the process calls for it to repeat
Don’t call me a bad guy,
if I justify why you should electrify
You can paint or wallpaper any wall,
it doesn’t much matter to me at all
With all those lights still so dark,
plug in with “AC” to get a spark
Once we throw the thumb-wheel switch,
we behold all that glows,
hopefully, without a hitch.
I can proudly say to you this day,
this dolls house is ready and on its way
Ready for you to decorate
with folks gathering to participate
Thanking you in advance
for this build of mine
and approving of my timeline
At some point, you might say,
at his best, he was a gifted Miniaturist
A need to capture what I’ve been through
to map life’s puzzle, writing’s the glue
Making sense of what’s seemingly random
so that I can understand some
To preserve it for aye and forever too
what went down ~ where, why and who
Entry in 'Bite Size Contest No 110'
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
May 08, 2025
I hope someday we’re blessed to understand…
as we’re torn apart by the hate and anger we’re desperately trying to weather.
how love and friendship is the glue
that can hold the world together.
Do as I do...
Who never knew
My wings that flew
Spiraled to you.
Sunlight the day...
With winter's ray
Frostbite thy lips
Til deaths decay.
Before there was light
before there was sound
Gravity wandered
the universe round
Plotting the orbits
of things still to come
Spacing the essence
of all zero-sum
(Dreamsleep: June, 2024)
Her heart has turned to glass
Broken shards that stab her from within
Lost in her sea of sorrow
She hardly feels the tears pouring from her soul
Melancholy reigns, marring her mind
She drowns day after day in her ocean of worries
Smiling, when there's no end to her problems
To whom can she open up?
Who really knows her real state?
To whom can she share her regrets with?
Who will pull her up from this dark depression?
This chasm that seems to consume her?
This chaos that runs amok, ruining her?
This speechless pain that silences every other thought?
Who can cure her heart?
Glue those shattered pieces back into one whole?
Take control of her lachrymose life?
Comfort her, hold her when she needs it the most?
WHO...?
Is there no hope?
Is there no answer to her cry?
Is there no rope for her to hold on?
Why does life have to be so hard?
SHE LAUGHS...
New Family
You're born into your family; you don't get to pick.
Sometimes it's tough; you and they don't always click.
There are times when you feel like you're not heard,
Walking on eggshells, careful with every word.
But as you go through life, you find others just right,
Friends who become your chosen family, holding you tight.
The joy they bring fills your heart to the brim,
And soon enough, they're like siblings, lives not grim.
You get to choose who you spend your days with,
Creating a family bond that's more than a myth.
You share your dreams and fears, through thick and thin,
With these friends, you just click; it's a win-win.
These are the people who see the real you,
Embrace all your flaws, and stick like glue.
They're there for the journey, won't let you drift away,
They're your safety net, come what may.
By Cathrin Stuart
What if fruitless should grow a goodly deed,
A pleasant song is tuned with poignant lilt,
A buoyant theme, on notes of bathos’ built,
If so, how long would last my pompous creed?
A creed called greed, a wondrous working glue.
Wisdom weighs when battles of life I wage,
Tall ideals alone would seldom woo,
Fruits hanging and ready to reap must rage.
With renounced heart were I to eat my bread,
Fully detached from life’s unfolding plot—
Dependent not even to blood cells red,
I doubt, if I can fill my karmic pot.
Amidst life’s scores of enticing lures laid,
I’d struggle keeping vultures off my head.
________________________________________
Sonnets | 02.04.2009, revised Jan 2024| lilting
Poet’s note: He that wants the least is the wealthiest man in world. This is fine as philosophy. However, one feels a bit uncomfortable. Without a little bit of self, working as glue, greed that governs, man perhaps, far from any progress, would have still been dwelling in a cave.
Sticky Glue Stick
An SLR camera shutter clicks
shut, sticks then opens: at a
designated shutter speed.
The subject is caught and the
camera’s quick: like a frog
unfurling its tongue to snag
a wary fly, with its sticky tongue.
The subject is not:
sensational or outrageous
-not sticky eye candy,
not the addictive modern fare,
not titillating,
not irresistible.
Tight knit.
A “modern family” unit sits
close, huddled in transparent
body lingo-
revealing hints, though open to translation.
Wait longer than usual to process,
then
stick pics with glue sticks
to photo album pages.
Arrange them across and
down like inked in crossword
puzzle solutions
-diptychs, triptychs, family trips etc.
chronologies mark lifespan
arcs.
Baby pics, the grandparents,
the unsuspecting…
Fill to the end.
Close the album.
Shut. Then revisit,
with more pics,
and stick them inside.
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