O gentle sleep. Most precious of secrets
Carefully placed between sunlight and twilight’s touch of warm air and wet kiss
Asunder from me, Yet all of me woven into a spiders web of silken spun strings. Reliving each and every moment in one’s lifetime. Again, then yet again.
Bizarre creatures I’ve created, shouting messages of concern. The very monsters that haunted my childhood. Now offering guidance, sworn allegiance to me for they know they have been conquered, so long ago.
A maestros wand, weaves a tapestry so intricate. Each line intersects. Yet does not interfere with one another.
O welcome sleep. With each worry and every dream. Days labor comes to end
On soft pillows where I’m lead towards a fantasy, I must then, take part in an eternal play
Filled with obscurity and dismay
In search of meanings to each day.
He took the punch
Without a flinch
Men don't hit women
But he wasn't giving in
She threw all her hate
Into the sword out her mouth
Before the battle ax
Took her out
He would call the law
But no one would believe
That violence would come
To a coward with knees
She filed report after report
But no one will come this time
Seven is the number
Where death intersects the line
If one could only go through
Without going back
To the very environment
That isolates lack
The truth of LOVE
Might have a chance
To restore the beauty
And cause the soul to advance
...into glorious light
written by Trudy Schrader on 10-28-2023
Spandex sparkle galaxy glints
Gem array curves across cleavage
Spotlight follows her steps, precision
T - bar sandals pace perfect time
Relentless rhythm zephyre smooth spin
Turns spectrum splatter into unicorn sanctum
Tutu weightless wings ascend interstellar
Arched neck occasions o'clock twelve
Glimmering tights spiral twist, turn, glide
Movement minutely tuned, heels oiled
Ice sprinkled sprocket tight torso
Ropes in Rolex iconic admiring audience
Blink brief ballroom blitz, glamour's dazzle
Segues to monotone of marriage, aplomb
Poised final flourish encompasses a partner
Aisle Individual Ability intersects Alter Together
Desirable diamonds shimmer for minutes
Cumberbund clock pendulum pushes chariot
20th May 2022
Written for Contest: A Diamond Of Time
Sponsor: Julia Ward
In retrospect you can never
make sense as to why it happens.
A minute late sets a sequence loose
towards some catastrophic event,
or if you miss a step taken to complete
a simple task, you'll begin
to fall apart. So much
seems to pivot on the perfect
execution of such trite things.
Nothing is exempt.
And then there is the countless
tributaries drawn to represent
each critical point along
the course of a single life,
or worse, the universe with its
almost infinite intersects of chance
webbed across time and space
back to its beginning. All appear
to be intricately linked, wired
into the locked rulebook
of a sinister, cosmic game.
Such thoughts overwhelm
and paralyze the brain.
Each movement made,
each calibrated ritual
bring into question just what's
at stake, what harm will be
unleashed if you get it wrong.
This is replayed again
and again as if to multiply the sum.
In the prison
of your regimented days,
you keep counting minutiae
and the spinning chamber
of an imaginary gun.
You just want a reset to zero.
The scarlet path of big, full blown roses,
Intersects with the golden Buttercup Lane,
And takes a wild turn at Bluebell Road,
Where a deep violet blue color explodes!
Nearby is scented, lacy Queen Anne's Place,
A short distance from Green Daisy Trail.
That was the place I last lost my heart!
Across the field is Scarlet Pimpernel Way,
That traverses deep orange Marigold Street,
Where a sunflower sun chases shadows away!
Written on May 9, 2021
For: Nature Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Some find the present holds no happiness.
Cocooned in memories of glory days,
they spin embellished views of each success
and leave bad times to vanish in the haze.
Some lend the past no power in their lives.
They learn no lessons from mistakes they’ve made.
If unacknowledged past with present strives,
will those same issues future peace degrade?
But wise ones know that when past intersects
with present, smiles will alternate with tears.
They realize growth comes when one reflects
on all life’s heights and depths, its joys and fears.
The voices from our past should not be quelled;
life makes more sense when old and new we meld.
May 2, 2021
All Yours (May 3) contest NA
May 4, 2021
Contest: Final 2021 NA Choice 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula
A gift to Tyler Mowery
Mauly was writing in her notebook,
Soaking Wet in an imaginary rain.
Honesty is worth a lot in life
Honesty and poverty also take away a lot
The feathers of nobility fall from life,
Love is lost
The sky of imagination continues to narrow
Yet to walk is to hold the thread of life in
The direction of possibility and expectation,
In an Endless dream.
After taking too many sleeping pills
The girl who wanted to die forever,
She might also have wanted to live at the last minute.
Did Rabindranath ever want to know
If Kadambari wanted to live at the last minute?
He may never have heard jurisdiction over that.
The topic is basically why death with depression
and its side effects?
Those previous words are very talkative,
Nonsensical and absurd.
And this is where Mauli's writing intersects.
Even in the pouring rain of imagination,
Is a rush to return to the reality
and in reality,
there is suffering, pain, and hunger.
There is still an inevitable joy
The joy of life in the absolute tolerance of survival.
Equinox
noun EE-kwuh-nahks
1 : either of the two points on the celestial sphere where the celestial equator intersects the
2 : either of the two times each year (as about March 21 and September 23) when the sun crosses the equator and day and night are everywhere on earth of approximately equal length
Sandstone erode into dust harks history's fade
Effected by events, weathered
Crept century torture administers eventual taint
Withered time drives incessant
Battered slate roof removed promotes damage
Cold rain and blazing sun hurt
Cyprus seeds challenge infertile dust, establish
Passage through gathered dirt
Co dependent pieces redefine a weary structure
Fed full on counterpart stength
Capability maps character, freshened functions
Exchange worshipped sentiment
Protected rod trunk tree intersects better entity
Deep dug roots, a chasm shielding
Tumult inevitably threatens to reinstate tentative
Pledge prevails, reliance appealing
Dedicated to tasks, support and every day bolster
Ruin renewed by flaura's courage
Offers availed are automated, mutual responders
Hold each firm in order to flourish
23rd November
Memories bring bitter tears one day,
sweet comfort and contented sighs the next.
Those journeys down the roads we’ve traveled may
evoke a range of dark and light effects,
ennui or elation. Either way,
it’s where the past with present intersects.
April 17, 2020
Contest Title: Each Letter Threads the Verse Placed 1st
Sponsor: Joseph May
April 25, 2020, entered in the Strand Pick E contest
It’s raining outside
and I feel content
to just sit on the porch
and watch a squirrel
snag a slice of pizza
from a trash can
The weight is too great
and it falls in
but this is one determined squirrel
A Moliére tale
about a piece of string
intersects my thought
but that’s arbitrary
after a few tumbles
and false starts;
the squirrel gets the pizza
out of the trash can.
It did seem like
a lot of work
for a stale slice of pizza
but who am I to judge?
“To say it was a beautiful day would not begin to explain it. It was that day when the end of summer intersects perfectly with the start of fall.”
– Ann Patchett
Summers last breath quickens my heart
My longing gasp to hold the warmth
Against my skin as you leave
Whispered farewell the geese fly south
I skip stones from a lonely shore
Trade long days for sunset colors
Welcome fall’s crispy open door
written: 9-6-2019
FAREWELL, SUMMER Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: nette onclaud
Intense heat ripples across
the vast sand dunes of the Serengeti
where it intersects with the
silent shores of a rare desert lake
a calm, cool oasis for both
man and beast.
Taj Mahal of the desert
it is a liquid cradle of life
coveted by a thousand tongues
as languid lake mesmerizes
drawing all that breathes
to its scarce waters, casting a
mirage like spell, beckoning
with reflections set off by
the hot desert sun, to come.
Salvation for the weary traveler
primal waters implore, drink!
Drink to the full, and be filled!
For blessings, unforeseen
are at this footstool of life
a sacred spot, touched by
the hands of heaven
offering a haven of rest, respite
and tranquility for all who want.
Written on 4/9/2019
Incidental Catch
‘The catch of non-fish species’
At the town’s cusp, terraced homes blaze out.
The mill and the green jetty wane to abandoned garages.
Kept, like trophies, by the type of men who have love affairs
with themselves. I was met by an agricultural runoff -
where land intersects water, sky and rock.
Your image waded flat over the water that had slowed
to a few passive ripples. Your books snagged
under your paperback wrists, dead as granite.
In my single-handed grip, I cast my hook
over the shallow water’s shelf and reeled you in with the Trout.
I made sure that you’d see me. On my heels in mud
I shrank myself. Your tired old books still viced between your fingers.
I watched you squirm, thrashing the water to a paste.
And this is my lover I said to the briny tapestry of the sea,
as I bagged you for tea.
The first crystal drop
of realization
shatters your glassy surface
and radiates the idea outward
in reflective ripples
growing concentric circles
with the newness
of being thought of
for the very first time
one drop
follows another
in a thoughtful cascade
and a thrilling commingling
of contemplative resonance
skimfully intersects
on a liquescent wavelength
…like a collection of Chinese linking rings
smoothly passing through each other…
exchanging enchantment
casting their own brand of magic
in lucid fluidity
across the suffused surface
of your soulful depths
that in this pearl
of a moment
revels
in revealing
the answers you seek.
Susan Ashley
July 28, 2018
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