Long Pina Poems
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Written: May 2nd, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Seth Pina
Based on the Poem: The Artist
5th place contest winner
******************
It begins as a breath, barely born—
a lucent little longing that should have stayed liminal,
Yet it irrupts, unabated,
threading itself through the chiaroscuro of my thoughts.
I tell myself it is otiose,
a passing flicker, a quixotic quirk of the mind—
but it grows tensile, treacle-thick,
a rumbustious rhapsody refusing to evanesce.
Your name—your very sobriquet—
becomes a mellifluous mantra,
an epizeuxis echoing in the marrow,
a chant I never meant to memorize.
I wander through hours like a wayward opsimath,
learning too late how fixation forms its own theology—
how a single presence can become
a sacrosanct symbiosis of ache and awe.
Every thought is festooned with your outline,
every silence redolent with your imagined breath;
even the air feels janiform,
half mine, half yours,
as if the world itself has chosen sides.
I try to exculpate myself
from this inchoate imbroglio,
but obsession is a sagacious sherpa—
It knows the steepest path
and drags me up it anyway.
And still—
beneath the nadir of night,
in the hush where hubris dissolves—
I feel the truth unfurl:
That obsession is not hunger,
nor hubris,
nor hecatomb of reason—
but the amaranthine ache
of wanting to witness beauty
so completely
that it finally
witnesses you back.
it has been a long time since i made you breakfast
we forgot to remember to remember what should never forget
it is quite pitiful it took me almost losing you to realize what has been lost
i even remembered the salsa for your cheesy scrambled eggs
i am just now noticing that have have become even more beautiful with age
the maturation of your appearance the the spiked cinnamon tea of my day
when i kiss you good morning, it turns into a powerful ****** on my tongue
sometimes life is a wonderful thing flipped and in reverse
i never anticipated us missing each other so
now i want a pina colada understanding finally what rupert holmes was putting down
the rain has perfect timing and so does the perfectly strategized warmth of your mouth
i can definitely finished making breakfast later
with what you are doing to me now, i will be your servant, your chauffeur, and your waiter
tomorrow we ascend in the much needed renovated, updated, and upgraded changes
the view is perfect, and Blessing of Loving You and Being Loved By You is Improvingly Assured
Cicadadoidea Lindseya
1953 marked emergence,
Of Lindsey Elizabeth,
Along with Cicada Brood X.
Now, 4 cycles later,
The school nurse,
Emerges a "Level 68er".
Harmony a la cicada chorus,
Brood X calls "Home",
Maryland & Indiana,
On iridescent wings they roam,
Singing sans piano.
"Linds" likewise travelled.
Snow to Bay to Perdue,
Any knots she unraveled,
As Amma, Audubon of birds blue.
Loved, loving Minchella,
"George's" wings do tell "yah",
Dreams do come true if you act on "REM".
Memories of cicadas can date "yous",
Stay young, savor a poem "Pina Colada,
Any way you choose,
"You say cicayda, I say cicahda"!
Nature showcases Mother Earth's creative nurture
designed by God* exposing paradise-stature of vibrant feature...
Midst radiant varied hues' magnificence
plants exude peaceful bliss with their iridescence…
Expressing biodiversity of ecological glow
picturesque landscapes present balance along perfection-flow...
With sceneries' well-carved beauty, so vibrant
Eden's worth prevails along pervading magnificence, verily radiant…
Grateful for all benefits of creation with mankind's partnership
my heart basks in this natural habitat, doing well to cultivate its workmanship.
*Genesis 1:1 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.
February 2, 2026
7th place, "Your Favorite" Poetry Writing Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Seth Pina; judged on 3/6/2026
He grinned broadly from the corner
a percussive serrated smile,
cadaverous lips displaying
a rakish scarecrow style.
His emaciated figure chattered
suspended precariously from a hook;
I was completely startled
by his penetrating look.
His wink was disconcerting,
those vacant eyes held wide;
I wouldn’t call him cheeky
though he displayed a gangly pride.
One arm extended slightly
as if inviting my embrace;
it might feel a little morbid
held against that hollow face.
Gothic trends might call him charming
though his apparel seems unique,
one would only see it hanging
in a nudist colony boutique.
One dance was all he wanted
waltzing the orthopedic floor,
that physician’s skeletal dummy
I just couldn’t make myself ignore.
July 31, 2026
Skeletons Poetry Contest
Seth Pina, Sponsor
Written: July 30th, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Seth Pina
*********
Your very skeleton
is not spun from cotton and polyester.
No, it is not carved from wood,
nor forged from metal or steel.
Its substance is—nerve endings,
tissue, and blood—
circulatory systems,
bound,
but not from woven fabric.
A lethal lotus languishes,
lamenting in its limbo,
crouched on bended knee.
A curved carcass, prostrate
beneath time’s passing wheel.
Its chalk-white bones
measure the slow decay,
where darkness lingers
in the hollow space within.
Cyborg of a cyber-skeleton.
Coiled with a steel-stitch
sprocket of subjugation.
Its spinal cord, bound in circuitry,
hums with sorrow.
A crestfallen cranium,
a heavy, hollowed
moon-orb weighed down
by the gravity of grief
in synthesized solitude.
Amidst this woeful wheel,
supplications of skinless steel
fuse forgotten fragility and fortitude
into a fatalistic future.
For you were neither tool nor tree,
but a tight-furled tapestry of flesh—
a weeping engine, bound in bone,
where the wild pulse fights the gear,
and slowly fades to rust.
I get chatting with Irene in the pool.
We both on holiday in a new country,
The same hotel.
Irene tells me
How she'd worked for Cadbury’s,
In the ‘80s.
And I recall the factory smelling of orange creams
As I’d cycled by on my way home.
“It’s the first time I've flown,” she tells me,
“I've never been in a plane before.
Aren’t the seats small!” she tells me,
“… a tiny chair to take you anywhere!”
Irene has a daughter, Julie, living in Oldbury,
She helped her buy her tickets online.
“…you have to be careful on the Internet” she tells me,
“…it's literally like a web,
I get stuck using it.”
But it's how Irene met Adrian.
“Four years back on bumble -
And he's younger than I am!” she tells me.
He's sat in the shade under a tree drinking a pina colada.
Irene’s swimsuit has a big bold tropical print.
Fun and sunshine there's enough for everyone.
“Me - I do love it in the pool…” she tells me,
“…but I've only just learned how to swim,
So, the sea makes me nervous.”
But Irene wants to see dolphins.
So, she's booking a cabin on a cruise.
She tells me how her brother,
David, died of the COVID.
How he left her some money and the dog.
She's never had a pet before.
I think Irene is amongst the bravest women I've met.
The heart of night, where gravity prevails;
A force unseen, yet felt in trembling bones;
Awake, where time folds in upon itself;
A silent hunger, swallowing unwary stars.
No light escapes the shadow’s grasp;
The singularity, dense, unmeasured, deep.
A true enigma, the cosmos’ fatal wound;
Around its edge, a spiral dance of dust;
Bright rage of atoms caught, yet never freed;
An endless whirlpool—aching, cold, and vast;
Where space and fate entwine in a mystery.
What lies beyond the rim, no mind ever knows;
Horizons closed to dreams or mere mortal eyes;
The laws of nature loosened, warped, and bent;
Where even light must bow and lose its way.
Yet in this dark, creation finds its place;
The birth of stars, the death of ancient suns;
All time compressed to echoes, beats, and sighs;
A story written, the Universe’s book of the dead.
Cosmic Death Poetry Contest
2/2/2026
Sponsored by: Seth Pina
Written: June 2nd, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Seth Pina
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Aurelia is a fictional character representing obsession, longing, and danger. I created her name since it sounded like gold "aureus".
She should be like someone who could exist — a muse, an obsession, a gravitational pull — but is unrelated to any living person.
*********************
Aurelia, I wake to ache in your amber crown—
A moth in the broth of the molten glow you cast.
Your name is a beacon I weaken to lean down,
Turning and burning my breath as I circle too fast.
You shimmer as shadows on shattered glass,
A pulse I can’t quite, a tide I can’t pass.
I whisper your syllables, soft as a truth—
Yet each strikes flint on the flames of my youth.
You move—and my marrow recalls your grace,
A rhythm that rattles the ribs of my pace.
I tread your track onto heat and rime . . .
No way back after being enthralled all time.
Your shade soars in the nooks of my sleep—
A specter whose hues are saffron and heap.
I ransack the pathos left in the gale . . .
A wild awakened ardor—no hollow can veil.
Aurelia, I follow your cynosure divine,
A tearing vortex into katabatic space.
Caged in the bend of your shining line,
No tether grants me to walk—
Or switch my pace.
Cessation of life yon mortality~~~
death of reality's enigma reigns
haunting minds for answers against "why?"
confronting hearts along queries of "where?"
Baby's only-one-second breath on earth~~~
bursts with survival agonizing cry
lingering midst glow for existence-hope
apprehending womb around love's fortress...
Child's departure toward what's eternal~~~
leaves gloom seeing gift that can never bloom
or guilt beholding loss despite nurture
and feeling of doom for hurt, tears can't heal...
Young lassie's sudden demise inflicts angst~~~
while lad's accident brings panic attack
with prevailing sighs for early exits
inviting skeptical thoughts to rise...
Dressing up my Mother in her casket~~~
I knew that I would miss her warm embrace
but such should be faced with glad acceptance
along memories, always to prevail...
Clasping Dad's hand while at his death bed
letting go was what I did, letting God
not being religious, but feeling blest
that I was there when he gave his last breath...
Unfathomable, yet death* is so real~~~
poetry can explore with depth and sense
and here am I, grateful for wondrous chance
to write about it, while enjoying life.
*Romans 6:23 For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
February 3, 2026
2nd place, "Cosmic Death" Blank Verse Poetry Writing Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Seth Pina; judged on 2/23/2026