Intangible.
It's all the rage!
What's a soul?
A pint or two.
Intangible!
So much to fear.
Abject refrain.
Ember rot.
Intangible?
So gather round.
Harshest whisper.
Crippled pyre.
All the lives I built and then tore down
I always thought you’d be around
to see me win, to lose, to fail
but then came storms of the harshest hail
that segregated your touch from mine
and now I pace, just wasting time
thinking of the hands I knew
thinking of how I’d feel brand new
every time I had reached you
Have you forgotten the promise you made?
Or do you think of me as your prettiest mistake?
You placed your bets, under influence of lust
then woke up one day, coughed from the dust
Have you had time to reassess?
Is this really for the best?
If you exist, but only in my chest
So, send me a letter
a few words is fine
spell out for me why you can’t be mine
don’t keep me guessing
don’t have me fretting
you’re not yet a memory
not worth forgetting
I'm learning not to embrace the frantic chase.
With things that are fleeter than me.
For things that wish not to be found.
For things that yearn to weave me to the frozen ground.
I'm learning to receive, graciously.
The things that may make you bleed.
Like love surrounded by white-hot fire.
Truth encased in blue blotted briar.
Peace is always worth the harshest sacrifice.
That doesn't mean I'll no longer engage.
To be that grand, golden giver.
It doesn't mean I've become a bitter quitter.
I'm still very much in the game.
I just lost the desire to keep score.
I'll be dispensing energy and shine more frugally.
Keeping company with dreams and gentle things.
Dodging the brutes and stained-glass boars.
Things that breathe just to bite and sting.
I pray the universe invites me to sample.
Its graceful rhythm and purity.
Of that sweet-sweet final sleep.
Welcome to: Hard on Yourself Prison,
Where sentencing is added to every decision.
Driven into vexatious thoughts,
A cycle of emotions, accusations wrought.
Caught in wordy why’s and wherefores,
Redundant objectives only multiplying more.
Questioning the inquisitioner:
Are they a good fibber or an ambiguous listener?
The harshest judge lives within..
To start afresh—where do I begin.
Let’s pack the critical encumbrances that weigh us down..
And loosen every tether that keeps us bound.
On the lean hill
where the earth barely breathes,
a lupin lifts its violet flame
like a secret entrusted to the wind.
A solitary flower —
yet in its stem
runs the memory of the wolf:
to walk straight through the hunger of the world.
The wolf does not ask for the road,
it carves it beneath its steps.
The flower does not ask for light,
it invents it.
Thus the lupin
teaches stones and men
that the fiercest beauty
is often born in the harshest soil.
Poet’s Note:
Date: March 8, 2026
Chosen Title: the wolf’s way
Sponsor: Ceci ou cela Vol.37
The serene evergreen,
Always the same color screen,
Just different shades to be seen,
Green is the common theme,
A healing color scheme,
Branches streaming with activity,
Filling every little cavity,
Dancing with gravity,
There has to be a billion points,
A million joints reaching,
Into the air we're breathing,
Pointy bristles teasing us,
Some pleasing to touch,
Emitting so much energy,
From every extremity,
A remedy for what ails you,
Nature knows what to do,
Forever green in your view,
Proof you can make it through,
The harshest weather too,
If you just keep moving,
Reaching,
Proving you can make it,
Each action groove with the flow,
Blowing through the oxygen,
It's the fuel for the engine,
A billion points begin to open,
Accepting an ocean of energy,
Sending it to every extremity,
The evergreen may hold a remedy,
To the secret of longevity.
Hunters go;
prepared to brave the snow.
Survival befriends winter’s harvest.
All the while, ancient arctic winds blow their harshest.
Mounds of glimmering white drifts; December’s stardust.
O’ all the perspectives seasons bring,
blessings of life, come Spring;
Newborn King-
The streets remember every whispered prayer,
sirens hum lullabies through heavy air,
Broken bottles brighten beneath Bronx blocks,
kids spin on corners, drawing lines in chalk.
Graffiti wings sketch saints on the wall,
my abuela’s pasteles smell in the hall,
Corners carry chaos courage can claim,
yet Harlem heals me when I call her name.
Skyscrapers guard what we can't see,
Dreams break the streets where hope used to be.
Dawn dances determined, defiant, deep blue,
so I rhyme survival into something true.
Love grows wild in the harshest place,
we carve forever in a fleeting space,
Each echo embraces every enduring eye,
Harlem, you teach me how not to die.
See You, But My Mind Is Free
You discarded me just like garbage ,
Wrote poems about me, calling me Trash.”
Called me an old fowl- I was forgotten and erased
Yet you linger in places to show your ugly face
You said I wanted wood, but it was you,
Speaking of it, showing up out of the blue.
Valentine’s Day—you stood in my sight,
A ghost of the past in the harshest light.
And today, again, like a shadow you came,
Thinking I wouldn’t notice, playing the same game.
But I see you—I see every move,
Yet my mind is free; I have nothing to prove.
I need not acknowledge, I need not reply,
You are nothing, no one—a whisper gone by.
So walk where you will, but you won’t reach me,
For I’ve let you go, and now I am free.
Written by mj2025-Aug
You were T
^ h ^
A e R
N O
C H
v
When reality was unmoored and adrift
When life’s harshest winds ripped a rift
When ominous clouds loomed overhead
When anger leashed gloom tinged red
You were a ( ( (( VOICE )) ) ) of reason
When kindness and healing was sparse
When probable friendships were a farce
You gave me hope, you kept me grounded
When rebound of love’s alarms sounded
You are a J
E W E
L of the sea
A whirling tsunami washed you ashore
A precious rock, I’d come to adore
Like colorful sea glass, I’m eased by you
A gem of a gift gallant and true
A treasured heart about to unfurl
I’m destined to be your pearl of a girl
--BlossomMonyei--
Raised in the harshest sun
It hurts in his bone
This life he asked from no one
Planted amongst those with hearts of stone.
A black man
Clueless, clumsy
His life's navigation was turned off
The don't care about him.
His mistakes
He can't erase
He'll move on somehow
Though he withers.
A black man
Meets friends
They did him wrong
They did it again.
"Is the world against me?"
"Why?"??
#blossommonyei
#liberiapoetry
#WeeklyContest
Liberia Poetry Association.
Voice of Liberia-VOL
TEXAS PRAIRIE PARADISE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
here, where the horizon bends.
the morning sun spills its warmth.
the Texas prairie stretches~
a vast unbroken beauty where
golden grasses sway.
the air, thick with the scent of sage,
wraps around me like a familiar embrace.
dust motes dance in the light,
tiny galaxies suspended
in the quiet splendor of morning.
cacti punctuate the landscape
these sentinels of resilience,
their spines reminding me
that life thrives in the harshest of places,
and wildflowers burst forth, fragile yet fierce.
here, the earth breathes differently.
my heart learns to listen
to the distant call of a hawk,
to the rustle of a rabbit, and
to the soft sighs of the prairie.
the hawk circles high above me,
its shadow gliding across the land,
a guardian of this sprawling solitude,
reminds me of the freedom,
of the vastness within and without.
I stand rooted in this stillness, finding clarity.
in the expanse, I find belonging.
beneath the wide-open sky,
I am both lost
and found.
Never again to know fresh air,
Combing worms from my matted hair.
No one remains who’d ever care —
Tied to my grave, this lonesome baire.
I must escape the sun’s harsh glare,
Tread carefully down crumbling stair,
Descend into my crypt just there,
Where I sit alone in dark despair.
Upon my ancient worm-eaten chair,
Inside my vaulted charnel house lair,
Such a sad and accursed affair —
Never to rest, always aware.
This kind of death is so unfair:
No converse, no song, no whispered prayer.
A thousand lifetimes in disrepair,
Unattended, solus, solitaire.
Harshest sentence beyond compare,
Caught in this endless undeath snare.
Naught to do but eternity stare —
And comb the damn worms from my hair.
My entry in a poem challenge:
“Write a poem based on three words from a song.”
I chose: 'Words of love' by the Beatles 1964”
words of love
I’m the harshest critic,
the truest of nonbelievers,
when words of love are used.
Soapy words will not deliver
so please stop trying to be smooth.
Don’t compare me to a summer’s day!
I know that’s from some Broadway play.
Waste not flattery’s rose
praise not my grace,
at least not to my face,
you’re better off praising my clothes.
Forgo sweetness, promise nothing
then you may be onto something
say it, straight up, I won’t faint
trust me, sir, I am no saint.
.
.
A song for this:
Words of love by the Beatles
.
Maddy’ Music challenge:
“Write a poem based on three words from a song.”
Song: 'Words of love' by the Beatles 1964
.
Poem challenge:
“Write a poem based on three words from a song.”
Song: 'Words of love' by the Beatles 1964
Building castles within my own confinement
only to be hit with the harshest of realities
& replaying what it means to be broken, to heal, and relapse
over and over again.
Numbing the weight of so many life choices
Drowning out screams from all different voices.
Lord please me show me your grace.
Seeing myself in the mirror
I'd rather not show my face.
My self esteem crumbled
Self-worth turned to dust
I'm suffering due to a lack of self love
And unwillingness to trust
Feeling as if my body left me unhealed
without my soul intact
Praying I could right the wrongs
that haunt me from my past
afraid of what appears impossible
A daunting peak.. still within my grasp
Have to take that leap of faith
to start me on the path
Dear Lord I pray you break these chains that refuse to set me free
bound from years and years of pain.
Most of which have remained unseen
Let me feel your light my Lord
The warmth shine on my face
I need to feel your selfless love
I need your warm embrace.
The thought of this battle
it heightens all senses of "fight or flight"
I'm writing this in hopes to from now until forever
Guide me into your light.
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