Long Rupture Poems
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I
I write-
words quavering with emotion-
my words speak thickly
fragments of my life
minced words that ramble
and I lispandslur
I croak and hesitate
and mitigate
words
oh this world is so shattering-beautiful
my pen
fragments of minced
words that ramble
and jumbledthoughts come tumbling
I have a message-to embody in words
it's
a phrase
a thought
and
an
utterance whispering
a mamby-pamby poem
minced
words
that ramble breathe rupture
II
tumbling words
from a word picking girl
of promise
mincedwords
goody-good-good
words that splinter the soul
with pain and sorrow
minced words
in verse and rhyme
_______________________________
June 17, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/"minced' words that ramble
Copyright Protected, ID 16-802-129-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Minced Words
sponsor, John Lawless
Third Place
Written: July 26, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
***********
When anger swirls and trust cheats,
When hearts rupture and hope is heavy.
Our brave backs fight, and our loud teams meet.
With sounds that spin and a wonderful levy.
A reaper walks by the schoolyard gate,
Where apathy switched in the weight.
Neglect takes away everything neat,
If angels lack air, im deaden noisy street.
Not tracing bright lines, they walk in twilight,
But bask in bold acts that banish the night—
A hand that helps, a spirit so slight,
But wants honesty and does what's right.
Born under obligations, if wealth bleeds.
Florists must cope with the gnarly weeds.
They scatter lesser sympathy seeds,
And provide them with generous deeds.
In each enchanting echo of the moored,
In actions overlooked, obscured.
They sculpt rocks to form what should—
A wondrous world of whimsy, not just of could.
So when we bow below the boastful storm,
And wrath would well, a wild waveform.
These tender tutors, though not the norm,
Rekindle reminders that romance transforms.
One soul could shed that armored pride,
And wear peace pulsing deep inside.
Let humble hands reach children’s flame,
To rise beyond the hate and blame.
Unaware of life ahead tough
Youth captured in a photograph
Ambition beamed behind framed glass
Promised future a life of class
Nothing less would define enough.
Through scorching time I travelled far
Dragging life with burnt dreams’ deep scar
In twilight dust up the mountain
Distant from peak still I remain
Failed life from dust can’t uncover.
When time for the sun to set came
Looked at memory in glass frame
Dusk's grey dust tarnished the picture
False promise suffered the rupture
Reflects deformed me as I am.
March 24, 2018
Syllable count : 8 each line
Contest : Completely Your Choice (37)
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Last Night I Shed a Tear
Last night I shed a tear
For the one I love ‘twas you my dear
I woke startled in the dead of night
Why did I disrupt the fantasy my one delight
Perhaps was the naked realization
That the love I dreamt was of my own creation
So I send this rose
For I tried in the night so in the light who knows
Pawns
As the pawn wandered in the serpentine follicle
The change that’s been so long anticipated came about
This sudden rupture within the brain of a man so simple
Figurine frustrated how loud he does shout
All the cursed phrases he does know
The exit of the place is not there
The frowns exist and begin to show
In the follicles of our minds trapped figures stand and stare
Into the blindness of thoughtless reminiscence
A Common Call to Rebellion
Where the others are placed precisely
To fit the form of fundamentality
We stand atop that firm foundation
Strutting upwards toward the bleak white sky
Never wanting to deteriorate
Or sink in certain spaces forgetting what we came here for
The new education system
In truth it’s meant to twist ‘em
Into something that
A child ain’t meant to be
It steals their precious playtime
Corrupts their daily timeline
It heralds a New World Order
Insidiously
It takes more, than just one man
In their evil global plan
To change the hearts
And minds of every nation
Go steal their freedom surely
Go get them nice and early
Warm their hearts with
Your home-grown indoctrination
Must we first lose our Jesus Christ
For to herald their new Zeitgeist
By the tearing down
Of each religious border
When the zeitgeist that is prevalent
Is intent on being malevolent
Then firstly friend
Comes chaos out of order
The church it changes readily
A Dove becomes a Vulture
A wolf within sheeps clothing
Finds an ease, in changing culture
Evolved from one-time pagan ways
Our celebrated Holy Days
Iniquitous intent
About to rupture
The Babylonian Talmud
Infused the Sons of Noah
In righteousness find wickedness
From the Qur’an to the Torah
Fraternities and brotherhoods
And secretive societies
Beheadings, drownings, trial by fire
Faiths forced, within their pieties
Gods world, bent to their intention
Bush, signs in Laws of Noahide
Martial Law on the horizon
Stones of Georgia, genocide
A New World Order looms
No empathy nor pathos
One World Religion emanates
An Order out of Chaos
w I n d
swinging heavy with flakes
winter's underbelly chilling fingers and toes
on a Kyiv hill
in wounded wisps of snow
two small girls in boxy blue snowsuits
share the plastic toboggan
their push downward, a blur of swoosh
delirious clarity through the rattle of a confining cage
shell-twisted
history's rupture
training their thoughts past the gnawing void
where houses once stood
past boundaries where bricks and rubble end
and something else begins
sleighing outside of what blasts the city
two young girls on a sled that flips in an unexpected
direction
falling accepted, detours accepted
lopsided displacement
childhood that wishes to outlast the falling
familiar to those with crushed ribs
like broken umbrella wings
the fallout
from a despot's bare-bones grin
frozen solid like a glacier slipping itself into place
where every face is full of things unseen
Poem composed December 1/2022
7. “Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, their only chance to soar.” Owens, Delia. Where the Crawdads Sing, Chapter 17: “Crossing the Threshold” (p. 124).
Somberness into existence is not a tumble.
Earth's ever-changing season mumbles.
Longing, pining, and scouring to leap, a sense free.
To beat, rupture of the endometrium of worry.
Find out how to tour this aesthetical orb.
Whatever you might protect is potherb.
Each step will pay off; Earth seems endless.
Maintain in mind her charming prowess.
Without mild radiation, stars would be ablaze.
The sparkle of your eyes makes you in a daze.
Shine bright, we made you for this world.
The zeal of fate, separate yourself from the herd.
It soars, snows, splashes, and seeks shelter.
Grasping beyond, setting up a binding welter.
Fall leaves were reflected on the bright floor.
Is it confined to a life of pain, as to explore?
Will the fall petals retain the bitterness of the shrub?
Was it chopped from moisture roots and snubs?
Are you rebelling over harsh conditions outside?
Or maybe the mood wasn't truly steady inside.
I identify dry autumn leaves with a restless soul.
How are the parts pulled out of the whole?
During leisurely walks. Integrate, and create a flow.
Awareness of the paradox of infinite glow.
Written: December 24, 2022
Feel Free Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sara Kendrick
Writer Block
______________________________
I scratch the surface,
my nails drag against the edge of the pen
my thoughts shift in perpetual motions
I feel the distractions around me uneasy
my fingertips start to burn and ache
my mind buzzes in confusion
I close my eyes and feel the invisible blood run from my fingertips
I start to lose grasp, of the pen that floats unevenly in my hand
the sounds of doors opening and closing rupture my attention
BUT THEN...
a BURST.REALITY
"CLICK," says the pen
and the invisible blood runs back into my cold fleshy hands
eyes open wider than ever before
glue-like fingers now cling to the ballpoint
and words fall on the page like teardrops
I can feel the winds shift and creative juices flowing
I hate days like these
Writer's block sucks!
Date:7/15/15
Jessica Thompson
Form:
The growth was not in the ring,
but in the rot.
It began with a refusal: the pot, a tyranny of ceramic.
The roots, pale serpents, began to press.
A fine, hairline crack, a fracture in the logic of containment.
This was the first transgression.
Then, the soil itself grew tired of being soil.
It dreamed of being air, of being skin.
It fell away in a slow, granular sigh,
exposing the pale, pulsing truth of the anchor.
The growth was not a reaching, but an un-becoming.
Leaves inverted, photosynthesis in reverse.
They drank the shadow, excreted a thin, bitter light.
The stem, a gnarled question mark, twisted back upon itself,
learning the syntax of its own distortion.
It did not seek the sun. It became a sun,
a small, cold, black-dwarf star of a thing,
pulling the light into its own peculiar gravity.
The growth was in the rupture.
A petal, sharp as a scalpel, sliced the humid air.
The scent was not of perfume, but of ozone and rust,
the smell of a new law being written.
It outgrew the category of "flower,"
outgrew the word "bloom."
It was a system of tensions, a beautiful error replicating.
The gardener, with his water and his stakes, wept.
He called it a malignancy, a failure to thrive.
But the plant was thriving in a language he could not hear—
the loud, silent frequency of a thing that has broken its vessel
and found itself larger, stranger, and more complete
in the open air of its own making.
Beneath California's boundless skies,
Nature roars with all her might,
In thunderous tantrums that arise.
Severe storms, where heavens rupture,
A dance of chaos, wild and free,
Electric bolts, a vivid rapture,
Unleashing fury upon the sea.
The skies grow dark, the winds arise,
As thunder drums its fearsome beat,
Rain cascades from the sullen skies,
In torrents, mingling with the street.
A symphony of majesty lies,
As lightning strikes and thunder crashes,
The spirits of nature harmonize.
The salty winds bellow in crescendo,
Whispering secrets of the ancient land,
The crashing waves, a wild innuendo,
Intertwined with chaos, they withstand.
The palm trees bow, their branches sway,
In reverence to the raging gales,
The hills and valleys drenched in gray,
Quenching thirst as water prevails.
Within the storm, there exists beauty,
An awe-inspiring force of unity,
Instilling reverence and humble prayer.
The earth rejuvenates, free from pain,
And life resumes at a gentle pace.