Contest: THE SIMPLE POETRY
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Date: September 4th 2026
A warning signals
at the daylights dim.
An inconspicuous drop or two
tap my cheek -
An impulsively deep inhalation
as I glare at the clouds.
A more rhythmically consistent
offering of droplets touch down!
More excitable water follows
trampolining on the ground.
Puddles beat like drums
in a heavy rock band.
Soggy wet through
where I stand...
The brolly blew the wrong way out.
My waterproofs a flapper.
I grumble a sigh and shrug
at my failure to stay dry
as I'm caught out in the rain.
The wheel is fast, and it never stops. There are many thoughts that are racing, some at the same time, some competing with each other.
Negative self talk always comes in first, with impending doom coming second.
Laying in bed trying to sleep, the thoughts don’t creep, they gyrate. Aggressively, impulsively, gyrate.
You can try to fight it, “you’re amazing, you’re awesome, don’t let these thoughts win”
But in the end the wheel never stops.
When will I learn, the wheel doesn’t ask for permission.
It just spins.
To encapsulate meaning
With words so few
Is like the magnitude behind
"I love you"
For some it's simple,
Yet again,
I impulsively
Over explain!
cover my mouth like sands on the
shore
before i say too much and cause a
tsunami
Occasionally the weather forecast can be of help: by poet
Does the sky and the sea have a mind of their own?
It was a tranquil day. I started the motor
Of my boat and headed out in the bay.
Suddenly all changed.
Sky became overcast and heavy.
The sea became restless.
Gulls squawked above me in derision.
My heart felt sick.
Waves pounded my fragile boat.
Would it take long to reach a haven?
I pointed my boat toward the bay.
At least, the motor worked.
Alas I was no great sailor.
The waves were against me.
I found myself in the sea.
Good thing I was a strong swimmer,
And the beach was very nearby.
I dragged myself up but nearly fainted.
Emily came up with a bottle of water.
She knelt near me and lifted my face on her lap
And washed the sand away and made me drink.
The rain was now only a drizzle.
I sat up and looked at her face.
Her eyes glimmered. Her luscious lips half open.
Impulsively I kissed her hard, our lips burning.
Instantly “The clouds parted like the pursed lips of desire".
Placed 3
The sight of a peacock gladdens my heart.
Is this because it's a form of fine art?
Good things are going to happen, my mind says.
Is a peacock, in any way, a whiz?
A black cat crosses my day-to-day way.
I am doomed—in my heart of hearts, I say.
Impulsively I press the reverse gear.
The sounds of souls and ghosts, within I hear
While the squeak of a squirrel is a fun
At the sight of an owl, why should I run?
Fear of death strikes me when I see a bat.
Diseases cease me when seeing a rat.
Why should blossoms fear the thorns around them?
Should, for the whims of snakes, the birds succumb?
Doesn't the sense of fear dwell in one's mind?
Shutting the sight of faith, should one be blind?
Winter flapping much the whole night
The foggy breeze wandered very tight
Mundane body wished the honey warm
But no rose napped in the blanket farm
She came with the pretty nuptial harness
Swinging the waist, stirring the girdle mass
Full of glittering bangle with luscious lips
Lac dyed ankle and whispered eye peeps
Adjacent lie down, sharing the pillow silently
Excited hard breathing disheveled impulsively
Amber eyes to dyed toes were all attached
Close, too close go round the hearts in merged
Lonely darkness escaped by the chirping light
Dawn’s eyes feel a fragile body’s ecstatic fight
©Mahtab Bangalee
Today the boy, wanting to stay tuned, grabbed the VR
Sweating profusely, needed a washcloth bathing
Boys don’t enjoy Sundays but they do after all
The class in awe of Revelation, wanting more
fruit, casserole, sweets and godly treats
We were at the movies when the sermon broke in
and we wept as the sinners waded into the baptismal
Back home, the grabster and the friend on other end
A friend, who knows not him
Sitting with my wine in a boot, or something like that
Watching Martha, feeling sorry for her but elated
for she related to the prisoners
It is dark now and rain’s now in my boot
I take a sip and fall asleep
or rather
write a poem, from the hip*
*from the hip - to act impulsively, like drawing a gun from the holster.
I paced placidly along picturesque pathways,
Around the vast verdant valley that led nowhere.
Oh Debbie, my Debbie, disappeared in thin air!
I'll search and I'll search and mutter a prayer,
I texted her and called her, but alas all seemed in vain.
Ah Debbie, my Debbie, I shouted her name.
All echoed back at me. still, I yearn for her love.
I imagined her hot lips, lingering on mine,
Yet she escaped me and flew like a rock dove,
But why, oh why? We fitted like a glove.
The blissful breeze blew through the cottonwoods,
"I'm here! I'm here!" Her voice echoed impulsively,
Elated I searched among the trees near a river.
I saw her there, beneath the willow, seductively.
I ran and hugged her tight, with all our fecundity.
Forgive me as I compose this remorseful apology
An admission of my egotistical individuality
Realization of how I've accustomed to being a Ticking time bomb impulsively leaking noxious fumes
Unintentionally forcing you to inhale and endure my venomous pollution;
But Innocence I had plead with evidence justifying unforseen indescribable affinity
Unintentionally passionately
To what i defined a Fragile creation of a human being
Vicious and mean
Immoral intent
Loudly and impulsively
Expressed through
Wicked words
Offensive and ominous
Repulsive in nature
Delivered and unjustifiably
Spoken
So direct was Jackson Pollock
giving the art world quite a shock
Art with no beginning & no end
he established an artistic trend
Pollock impulsively hurled his paint
making spots&splatters quite quaint
Action painting novel& new
arrested moments out of the blue
painterly picturesque it ain't
Jackson opened the 'abstract ' door
laying the canvas on the floor
The creator of 'drip' 'flick' and 'stick'
spontaneity was his artistic trick
The Long Goodbye
By Edmund Siejka
We were on the corner
Of Union Square
Not touching
Not speaking
Just staring at each other
Me, in complete disbelief
You, looking past me
Annoyed shoppers
Quickly brushing past us.
And then you walked away
All I could do was
Try to follow you
Until you disappeared into the crowd.
Impulsively, I once went past
Where you lived
Crossing the street
I saw a light in your window
And made out
Two shadows sitting at a table
Then I knew
It was time
For me to walk away.
After all these years
Even though I can’t see you
I still think of you
Even though I can’t speak to you
I still hear you.
Sometimes when I lay in bed
The window opened
An errant breeze
Brings in a wonderful scent
Reminding me of the flowers
Lined up in front
Of the Korean grocery store
We used to go to.
It’s then I see you
Standing in front of me
Reaching out
I can almost touch you
I wouldn’t want it any differently
Then when you were with me
Those were the best of all my days.
automated
processes
slotches
of colour
intensity
with
minimum
means
brimming
with
symbols
awakened
breathing
charged
with context
affinity
to openess
hovering
with musicality
in
playful variants
profoundly.
Impressed
blurred
surfaces
in
miniature
figurations
emphasised
translations
of
pervasiveness
break forth
impulsively
in
pictorial
polophony
THIS AN OPEN(organic) VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' (intuitive cadence)& so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretation unique to the moment
Miro impulsively hurled his paint
making spots&splatters quite quaint
Action painting upon the dark blue
in metaphor&symbols so new
Enough to make the viewer faint
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