The fuel, fury and addiction,
stupendous depiction.
I’m magnetized; my nose buried
in vellum sheets. Varied,
the construct of complicated
simpletons located
on cliffs, near harbors, with their ghosts;
misdirecting guideposts.
The injection of crafty twists;
flying ink insists
you sink deeper into its thick.
The turn of pages, a joystick.
Wanting to finish the story;
feeling’s transitory.
Compose a series, Author, please!
Your book ended with tease.
I’ll have eyes on antagonist,
tea with protagonist,
follow breadcrumbs and red herring,
and choose to be daring.
T h e E n d
in a world of bitterness and hate
look for signs of compassion
and make those your guideposts
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
O’ Pat Pattison, you, my brilliant teacher,
I would shower in praises, had you not
taught me better! for cliches void of thought
are as worthwhile as a couch surfin’ moocher!
O’ masterful and deepest sort of creature,
shocked then, in the thrall of churning wounds, distraught
I found your grace—and for my breaking clot
you gave me poetry, this soothing suture.
Trochees and iambs, blank verse, Shakespear’s form—
you illuminated a path obscure
to my sight. The subtle rhythms and rhymes
you used as guideposts through a ruthless storm
are now the tools that fix me fast,—secure.
I’d take your class again a million times.
I wander a vast desert
Emotions chasing like shadows
No sand, no cactus in sight
Only rivers climbing uphill.
I run, drawn by distant guideposts
Haunted by familiar voices, yet strange
Their kindness masks something darker
A lullaby that feels monstrous, yet strangely safe.
Like a wild cow on the loose
I circle the same worn path
No matter how far I run
I end up right where I began.
When I finally wake
The dream fades, slipping away like salt in water
Only the sweat on my palms remains
And the echoes of racing thoughts I can’t outrun.
Will is the executive …
intellect advisor
Choice as a marriage
the two must condone
Committed and daunting
with guideposts of knowledge
Marching in tandem
— pursuing the truth
(Dreamsleep: April, 2024)
Your journey
though life begins
with your
very first breath.
Exploring your world
hand to mouth,
you test
boundaries.
Skirting
obstacles
encountered,
you look for detours.
There are guideposts,
but
free will chooses your path.
Life . . . and of course, living it, requires
Some freedom with few constraints.
As energy is bound by time and space,
Along with the will of many saints.
From the macro to the micro, the
Guideposts are sought as we learn to behave.
While the tunnel between material and spiritual,
Focuses visions that are often concave.
This reality is fed by observation,
Yet imagination often adds to the mix.
Where our curiosity may be satisfied quickly,
Building upon foundations with new bricks.
Even though the limits seem rarely accessible,
Our nature looks for any loophole to find.
Since the only boundary that has escaped
Beyond . . . is that of the human mind.
We in are in a time of darkness,
A season of sorrow and regret.
Like a great fish caught in a current
Rife with unexpected, opposing tides.
All are tossed ever farther
from lives all hoped to access.
Striving against this typhoon of violence
Perhaps our hope is bereft?
As this devouring night surrounds,
No egress to safely accessed.
Losing strength, all fight this unyielding tide.
Vainly seeking the shore.
Loss and grief are everywhere
With no light, they can find no haven.
They are lost within this black storm.
My Bride I have chosen you to be guideposts
Given a specific task to play.
In one hand hold high the gracious lamp
Filled with Holy Oil stored for this day.
Climb high upon the rocks
Light the wicks to combat war’s fray.
Now the Holy One commands the light stands to light!
Making the darkness fall away.
The path is narrow, the way is hard
“Bride of Christ, light your lamps
Save all that you can on this –
The End of Days!”
God’s promises are everlasting
Christ commanded us to not lose even one.
So, My Chosen, light the lanterns,
the Bridegroom’s feast awaits.
If I have to receive rejections, you would think I could at least get the kind of rejection slips that I would like to get. Here are a few rejections that I haven't received. Yet.
"Unpalatable!" --Gourmet
"Try our Fiction Department." --True Story
"Too padded. Trim it down." --Weight Watcher
"No! No! No!--Positive Living Magazine
"Sorry!" --Good News Magazine
"Indigestible!" --Reader's Digest
"You've missed the mark!" --Guideposts
"Doesn't suit our needs." --Gentlemen's Quarterly
"Out of step." --Military Review
"Clean it up!" --Good Housekeeping
"Not relative." --Family Circle
"Not our style." --Glamour
Love Shines
Love shines in unclaimed shadows
Of tarnished souls like polished platinum,
Like burnished bronze in solid darkness –
A golden lantern of serene solitude –
With luster of the eternal living star
In the moment when time takes a blinded breath
Re-igniting fireflies of solar milestones,
Glowing guideposts,
Leads to gates of pure illuminated paradise
In unchained brilliance,
In exploding bits of fireworks
Like radiant celestial fireflies
To shine upon the shades of darkness battles
Exposing hidden hearts of cunning
In silver sterling healing –
Gift of the pale moon’s melody serenade
Love shines.
4/16/21
Contest: Shine Prompt
Sponsor: Constance La France
Stories - faces aglow,
the "old ones" sharing
life's lessons.
Tales of the past,
guideposts in life,
before we all knew more
than those who came before
"our perfection".
The lad looked up at the sky with a tremulous sigh
Why is man born and why must he die?
He gazed at the stars, dazzling guideposts of night
With arms outstretched toward their flickering light
He looked out over the sea, its waters so blue and so deep
Understanding that a promise once made is a promise to keep
As guideposts in the sky to light the way
the heavens’ stars assist our human sight.
Big Dipper asterism holds its sway
in northern Ursa Major shining bright.
When sets the evening sun on earthly cares,
the darkest nights with stellar beams will glow,
regardless of terrestrial affairs,
in spectacle of grand celestial show.
But time will tell and truth be told at last
once all is reckoned from our mortal lives
what future we’ll create from troubled past
to be recorded in the vast archives.
For constant stars above seem not to mind
the vagaries below of humankind.
~ Harley White
As chill winds blow
through the town
The inhabitants trudge homeward
Through snow and ice
they trudge
Their faces ruddy from the weather
At the end of their journey
they will come home
to a roaring fireplace
However ferocious the storm
The travelers know that
warmth waits at journey's end!
Take heart!
When life's storms buffer you
Learn that love and kindness
are the guideposts
which will lead you through
life's storms
However wicked such storms can be
We travel through time like ghosts
Transparently moving through its guideposts
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