A soft breeze whispered
as I stood near a spread
of fields
where my heartfelt story was told.
I recalled the beginning.
The middle was unfolding
and I didn’t know the end.
My assignment
of controlling traffic here
would last two weeks
yet a voice inside
said this was where
I was meant to be.
O, the sky was so blue.
A construction crew inched
along the highway to fill cracks.
My father always said
what was broken must be mended.
I was reconciling with my past,
my memories carried in a breeze.
It was the beginning of summer,
I recall,
ankle-high corn reaching for the sun.
It was a farmer’s labor
a farmer’s pride.
My life was unfolding
a sense of wonder
as cars followed the pilot vehicle
through open lands.
The clouds above passed
as galleons of ancient ships
the sky an ocean of dreams
and endless tomorrows.
plump red strawberries
the kind we knew last red dusk
when time inched by brusque
garnet stars flash on
scarlet leaves and cardinals
mars phenomenal
crimson dragonflies
when fruitful days are going
true colors showing
The caterpillar inched
Up the branch
Up the branch
Up the branch
The caterpillar inched
So, he could eat
The caterpillar went
Down the branch
Down the branch
Down the branch
The caterpillar went
Down the branch
He saw a treat
bug inched around my glass rim
i knew it could fly off
it didn't
so I captured it
between a glass and a piece of cardboard
walked it outside and let it go.
I am a hero.
One more life saved
He wrote a bible every day,
a poem without beginning or foreseeable end,
yet like the New Testament
they were the work of his inner Jesus
the same Jesus journey that we all eventually take.
His poetic steps along the way were not usually sacred,
often far from it,
but they inched his soul-conscious self
toward a certain resurrection and ascension
nevertheless.
Seeker, cease looking outside of you,
know thy self, scribe,
believe in the God within you,
create your own heaven –
your Christ awaits.
She was working on being a mountain
but lacked the kind of rocks
that don't roll downhill.
Nobody saw her leave the room
or enter.
Sliding to the furthest corner
she agonized
measuring herself.
Mingling circles
backed their backs away
The girl wanted so much
to say something,
to engage the crowd,
to stand out.
Hesitation inched on.
She disappeared once more
into silence.
I inched my way towards the end of this year
with a hopeful prayer on my heart
The last few years have been so challenging
to say the least.
The truth of the matter is the best blessing of all,
turned out to be you.
There were moments when I felt despair
and there were days when I almost gave up
Life had become a series of uncertain events
and so, I clung to my Faith like a lifeboat from heaven
and waited rudder in hand, dreaming of calmer waters
I observantly counted each favored blessing
until I came to the realization that
the best blessing of all this year was
you, my Jesus, dear *
Nov 19, 2022
I mean, who really needs a morning alarm clock
When there's a glass of water on an ill placed shelf
You inched it closer to the edge with little knocks
Should have moved it. Soaking wet, I can only blame myself
A cold nose followed by a MEOOOW, right inside my ear
Who could ask for a more effective wake up call
If all else fails there's a back up plan so not to fear
Incessant paw bats to the face should do it, but that's not all
A unique trick you had for earlier morning wake ups
Biting hair at the roots, then pulling up really fast
Not as clever, still better than the water cups
I sadly sleep in more these days, now that he has passed
And I miss our early mornings, laying in the sun
The loudest I've ever heard, my little motor purring
Chasing toy mice and string and all that fun
Then you'd sleep on my head, I guess you were up very early...
Smithers. So many things to say
The biggest personality you had
And I miss you so much everyday
The house without you, is just very sad.
as if drawn by an invisible jury
the mood inched closer
to adjunction
incrementally and with
unbearable slowness of progress
it nibbled away at sizeable apathy
pinched a tiny chard of gloom
until the clouds burst into silent tears
not without questioning the sanity
of its success neurons returned
to previous still rusty function
redefined normality
of what was to become
not without mocking
waste and waistline
as if to say
you need a belly ring for flotation
it will ground you when levitation
takes the mood swings too far
the verdict not guilty
merely colluding as a minor offence
released on bail
no further injunctions
and hard work ahead
24th September 2022
The playground hadn’t opened;
The sun had yet to rise
And many might think walking
In the dark would not be wise.
A mist hung by the river,
A tugboat pulled a barge;
The cars inched down the F.D.R.,
Their headlights looming large.
The puddles, partly hidden,
Glinted dully in the gloom,
Soon to saturate some sneakers
Not expecting them to loom.
It was magic to be walking;
The few others I did see
Were the regulars who love
Their early exercise, like me.
In my experience, most adults have “vanity walls”, usually in their offices, where they hang diplomas, awards, certificates and important pictures. Most parents I know have them.
I like to look carefully at those momentos - they’re like breadcrumbs tracing back through their lives. Some items are expected while others are extraordinary - like pictures of Lisa’s dad playing golf and laughing with famous people.
“It’s a very particular kind of vanity.” Lisa’s dad said, from in back of me, from his office doorway. I almost jumped in surprise - I definitely flinched. I’d become so absorbed in examining his wall that I’d unconsciously inched into his space, like someone stealing into a closed museum exhibit.
I flushed with embarrassment,”No,” I said, making a hand gesture that swept the area. “I LOVE these kinds of things - I couldn’t resist - I’m sorry!”
He made a “Pssshtt” sound and waved his hand, “You make yourself at home.”
“I want to have a wall someday,” I said. He smilingly turned and with a little backward wave said, “You will,” as he strolled off to the kitchen, leaving me to continue my tour.
I will.
I tossed my pancake
Right into the sky
I looked up and saw
It stuck to the night
A perfect round
Done just right
Glowing with syrup
As it perked me up!
It tempted me alright
Have you ever tried
Tossing your pancake
Into the open sky
It inched closer to me
As it grew very fat
I held out my plate
And it dropped
Just like that!
13.10.2021
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Contest: Nursery Rhyme
Cluttered herself with salt;
Rather obscuring herself, she settled downwards;
The sandy surface has made her vulnerable;
Clasping the inner core tightly, she reluctantly raised her fallen guards;
The heart silently percolated to its bedrock;
She was afraid of sedimentation.
Suddenly the cracks paved the way to her weathered soul;
For her it was love at first sight!
Beginning of a pure, beautiful love affair;
She was mesmerized by those sparkling eyes!
She inched closer with the ever increasing sound of her pounding heartbeat;
Nothing! Nothing!
Betrayal!
Fluttering her sand-dunned eyelashes;
The mirage was in its full glory;
She retracted in her footsteps, recoiled her flattered heart;
She was deserted again with her guards steeper than before.
From the safety of his room…watching raindrops sliding down his window pane…he noticed a bird…perched on a branch…with no protection from the rain.
The more he watched…the more he thought…that bird needs caring for…so he put on his raincoat…grabbed an umbrella…and headed for the door.
“Where are you going with that umbrella?” His mom asked. He said, “Don’t worry Mom…it’s not for me…It’s for a little bird…caught in the rain…whose sitting in our tree.”
And she could not help but smile…as raindrops inched slowly down her window pane…as she watched her son…holding an umbrella over a bird caught in the rain.
And she thought…how wonderful is a child’s innocence…it has it’s own beauty…it’s own rhyme…and how endearing is that innocence…whose only enemy…is time.
And she found herself praying that in him this innocence would never wane…as he waved to her while holding an umbrella…over a bird caught in the rain.
The vines were in a twirl.
Whirlwind practicing had been happening all week.
Covertly of course, for we were not supposed to be competing.
The wall is almost finished! One of the old ones loudly announced.
He might as well have shot a starting gun.
The competition was on!
I decided to get some sleep and begin at dawn.
By sunrise most of my traitorous cousins and sisters had already gotten to the top.
It’s not a RACE! I screamed from the roots of my roots.
I was so angry, I almost decided to wait for the next wall to be built.
Most of them are liars, I mumbled as I inched my way up.
They all told me they were not going to enter this competition.
All vines lie, a strange vine said to my right.
I decided to hate him.
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