“What do you see?”
A simple inquiry
requiring
A not so simple response
For I do not see
With my eyes alone
They are but a portal
To the insanity
Of a mind’s interpretation
A wilting flower
Lying beside a sleeping kitten
Perhaps a subtler inquest
“what does a painting stir in you?”
And “why”…”How”
Does a wilting flower
Lying beside a sleeping kitten
Reach through crusted paint
To hold you spellbound
The wind whispers against the craggy rock.
Its warm breath holding on, precipice-pressed.
Heart-pounding mountains echoing the mock.
Plummeting eagle in plumes of inquest.
Goliath shoulders boost my eyes upward.
I do not recall scaling down the rock.
A wild ride; ‘somehow, this view left me floored.’
Frozen skyward, where wind tells secrets, shocks.
I cling to wet rocks, as my apogee.
Wind wraps ‘round whitecaps - life’s no guarantee.
Something in my eye
Rubbing me the wrong way
Why?
But truly a bump at a sty, fluorescent right?
Shall stick pricks stay the bump on my pupil.
Stay this be a blemish
Add\nThis inquest to you , in a corner of my eye , streaming down into my chin , the pain inside
Pains, I cry my eyes permeates tears up as I cry
Looking at the blinding sun
Tears shed they run
I can't see, yet but I feel something in my smeye
Yet so far it is a
-----Star
2/3/26
Written by James Edward Lee Sr 2026
Bucolic frolic or supersonic & demonic
Alcoholic demands in the stands vitriolic
Iconic rollick or quite simply HEADonic
England so shambolic at fans’ behest
So chronic plans for a Baz Ball inquest
Ironic still curious why the rest are furious
Spurious contest they know which way’s best
Histrionic tease they jest please don’t be a pest
Scorn who’ve worn the Lions crest on their chest
Suggest fire’s the ire…ferocity of pomposity detest
Tire of dire quagmire but we’re blessed with a zest fest
Everyone complains about the vain inane campaigns
Disdain of the stain of their refrain just won’t restrain
Pain again explain is plain what does pertain to a Test
Ashes conquest no longer a contest our own Everest
We frown they clown around go to town double down
How very dare you review from your pew not impressed
We guessed they quickly confessed only one way remains
We’re profane..they’re insane our hopes down the drains
They insult with this cult as Baz Ball without Brains reigns.
Staring into the stratospheric abyss
Cumulus clouds swiftly drift along.
As I stand at a dusty precipice,
The white-hot heat of the sun beating down,
Microscopic gravel crunches beneath questioning feet.
A flood of overwhelming emotions washes forth,
Whilst a broken heart is drowning.
The last words you spat at me, stuck on repeat,
Play like a needle scratching a broken record.
Cupping my ears, I try to shut out the incessant noise,
But it just ricochets like emotional shrapnel,
Piercing into my tormented psyche.
Reliving the vital few seconds of a scene gone so wrong—
Have we somehow traveled past the event horizon,
Becoming an implosion of complete annihilation?
As the wind whips past, sending ripples through the air,
I frantically search the debris for answers.
Grasping at particles of dust—
Invisible atoms of desperation.
But they're unattainable.
It is to be our downfall,
Just as a resolution to this inquest
Disappears with the sun
As it wanes over the mourning horizon.
In a world full of pain, I feel so alone,
Now shadows form where silence has grown.
A gaping void to fill this space,
These thoughts I have, I can't misplace.
It is four in the morning, as I lie here in bed.
Manifesting these fears that go around in my head.
I am the judge and the jury, in my own inquest.
A pondering conviction that has me depressed.
I feel lost in the darkness, where hope starts to fade.
In the stillness of night, decisions are made.
A ticking clock echoes. It's a sound of despair,
Each tick is a reminder that nobody's there!
This loneliness clings, on this dark winter's night,
As my breath hits the air and my chest it feels tight.
I long for the warmth of that someone to hold,
In the cold of the night where dark shadows unfold.
I remember the time I was wrapped in your love.
Like my heart is being held in the hands of a dove.
The isolation i feel, it reminds me again.
For in your arms i found solace, in this world full of pain.
Start journey quest now where love shows,
Stride with calm poise shrewd path of fate;
Feel touch fling zest in sublime flow,
By your own choice greet lavish state.
Learn how to glide as act funds proof,
Match your fine grip to charm lots more;
Peel off vain pride to see plain truth,
Glimpse that fond trip from mortal shores.
Watch the wind blow taut misty lease,
Be on the way of mystic feel;
Sense touch you know with heart at ease,
Cause crafts deep play of apt goodwill.
Exult true gains karma consorts,
Embrace hard pains that love retorts.
I approach the wooded trails and hear nothing save for my footfalls crunching in the soft snow. It is the kind of winter day that even a feather falls without drifting one way or the other. The trees stand straight, tall, and silent, their branches appearing as if they’ve been painted there. The water in the nearby stream is crystal clear and motionless, reflecting the cloudless morning sky. It was still, utterly still.
crystal waters flow
reflecting winter’s stillness
peaceful Christmas scene
Copyright © Sara Etgen-Baker | Year Posted 2023
A loud string of clear down-slurred two-parted whistles reach my ear. There is a little red cardinal tucked between thick foliage. Its an architectural beauty, an inquest. He looks at me with two round eyes then shows me a circular world made up of silence and noise. We are standing on a precipice of the Sacred. A unanimous ground holding space with Nature, Creature & Human, alike.
winter evergreens
snapshot of a Cardinal
perched on my nightstand
Nestlings
I write best
Close to the vest
I attest
It’s what I know
Best
In my nest
It’s what I
Behest
I write best
Close to the vest
Be my guest
I’ll unload
My chest
Be just like
An inner inquest
I write best
Close to the vest
Just sit tight
I’ll feed ya
The rest
Bill MacEachern
03/24/23
The Hound dissed the Princess,
With a dour scowl.
He hid his little mistress,
Quickly to be avowed.
The inquest was listless,
with nothing much found.
Now the Bonnie Prince,
will wear a Kings Crown.
H.Elless
Poet
The wind is come to sojourn once more
Delivering tidings from far away, yonder.
It expires its breath and wheezes veracity.
Eyes may not see but ears are alarmed
As the wind calls out its blustery voice
And those who listen will know it well.
The legend told is one of timeworn myth
But nought can change, save for illusions,
And he who walked before us also follows.
The wind is come to visit this day
To test our faith and inquest our soul
For the wind that comes to call, this day, knows all.
Alan S Jeeves
Who can view me behind the fence ferrous!
Those infiltrating eyes bear me desirous!
Unveiling what was previously hidden.
Keeping this same watcher has striven.
I figure you should say, "What's in plain view!"
Penny for your ideas as they decay in a dark row.
Truth is a precursor to the hotly slated freedom.
The spilling from torn gum is giving a storm!
Am I a true enchanter worthy of notice?
I feel you crying, so please, let me focus.
I never set up in front of an audience.
I starve to escape the irritating sequence.
But does it work to retain me from leaving?
This clutter adds to the overall styling.
Do they have any considerable difference?
Do I cave in, or do I dazzle with my openness?
What has me scared! How am I striving to hide?
None, however, can bear reality inside.
After the Inquest, I cast the net vast and bleak.
Induce them all to cave up the skill to peek!
Written: October 3, 2021
On the shoulders of avid days
I stride on its lips with a pot made of clays
Inquest of fecund fields to preen what pays
Both the days we suture its coral rays
And days its name wears mystery
I schooled forth lapping the mile’s misery:
Worries a spoon, jester a stew, despair a rice dished miserly
Murdered hopes, spices; yet I slide, no furry.
At time when exiled felicity
Staked in self stalk new sari
Leaning against the old plea.
And lethal tears oozing breathlessly frosting his solitary balcony.
A wolf bane singing the songs of angel
Orchestrated alchemical lyrics, in it fell
O! Withers of pain, lend me your domain, let me dwell
O! I said, are you not wolf bane, won’t there be tale
O! I’m, recharge your crockeries of trust in my smell
A wolf’s bane she was indeed
Listening to her lusty lyrics in refined
Harem’s tone, then I pigeonholed.
As the suns fell on the shrubs, as dews condescended
As the soil becomes wealthily fending
A moon in me suffers seizure and my dog died frothing
Then I was awakened to knowing anon
That there are good flowers and there are poisonous one
Why the mangled lines upon your face?
What agony has you in this state?
Do you blame the one you chose to mate?
Or should we condemn all the human race?
Why is there no smile on your mask?
What events find you in this way?
Do you believe ill fates are in play?
Or is it you refuse to relax?
Why do you claim your life is a mess?
What forces align against your joy?
Do you perceive a Devilish ploy?
Or might it be bad luck you confess?
Why are you puzzled at my inquest?
What would you have me do, just forget?
Do you think it would be for the best?
Or is it my pity that you request?
Why swollen eyes and cheeks all moist?
What deception does your mind foist?
Do you not hear His voice and rejoice?
Or did you not know? Joy comes by choice!
I want to be where
fissures meet
and sentences are passed,
Every step before
arouses immeasurable inquest.
This phase encounters
a dull moment
and deems it appeasing,
To warm its charm
will not in time return its best.
I asked a vow to
faintly deliver ours
if none in time actually prevail,
It may do
unless ours expressly fails.
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