Clean up this mess.
I feel defeated once more, and get the clothes off the floor.
This order has now translated to, "You're a mess."
I feel the need to impress,
But also to rest.
My mind changes and shifts words.
I feel as if I will always be unheard,
But how must I be heard if I can't speak?
Children should be seen and not heard.
I feel defeated once more; shut my mouth and close my door.
I no longer feel like I want to be heard.
The only thing that seems to please is to be seen.
My looks shift and validate me through praise of those around me.
Maybe this is the only me worth seeing.
There's no need for the rest of me.
Simple phrases pan into endless thoughts.
Ideas and phrases leaving those and me distraught.
This writing may come as a shock,
But those whose minds are similar to mine are tortured by thoughts.
My Mess is a Message
Meteorologist of my own mess, call me the
Meteorologist of my own mess-
I track storms in my grìt on like Doppler on
Mandate, pressure rising, problems spiraling,
But I stand in the middle of the neurosis
Reporting live with faith in my viewpoint
And humor in my pouch.
Life throws twisters, I throw gags.
I've been drowned, shaken, hit with winds
Meant to break me-
But I learned to read the weather and walk
Through the showers like it's part of my
Training, my mess ain't a warning- it's a
Forecast of resilience.
No one scrubbed the hammock.
Or brushed the cabinet.
Distant like lukewarm cinnamon.
Being an astronaut is a chore.
To look at space gunk?
And you think it’s chilly up there.
Oof.
Nope it’s teetering and croaking.
Gah!
Gaslighting you like a fossilized fudge sundae.
Nothing is messy in outer space.
So they didn’t take the bleach along.
The heavy coat drops.
The pretending stops.
You sit on the edge of the bed,
with a tired head.
We carry the dread
of the things left unsaid.
Afraid if He saw the real floor,
He’d walk out the door.
But mercy still finds us
and gently reminds us:
He doesn't look down with a frown
at the ways that we drown.
He searches the dark
for a small, broken spark.
He doesn't pull back from the grime;
He stays every time.
He buys back the years
of the wandering and tears.
The hands that first knit you in place
now fill you with grace.
No checklist to fill,
just a love that is still.
He meets you right inside the smart
and holds your whole heart.
-inspired by Psalm 139
SMITH IS IN A MESS
GOT NO HELP FROM HER ADDRESS
MOST THINK OF HER LESS
BIRDS OF A FEATHER
UCP SMITH TOGETHER
BRINGS MESSY WEATHER
When someone has taken the trouble
to scrape up dog mess with no shovel
into a bag that is plastic,
then park it there as a tactic
means pollution has been redoubled.
I look at my hoarder's mess over and over
I call my dogs to look – Alfie and Rover
They see nothing amiss but one runs out with a sock
At least that’s one less thing I say to a broken cuckoo clock
Why is it so hard to except the truth, when we swallow lies all day,
we fight, we argue, in every step of our way.
To believe a lie, is human, to deny the truth is man,
those who work deceptions, get caught up in their plan.
With truth as a shield, lies fall at the feet,
Light is a weapon, the darkness’s defeat.
Walk in that light, lest it fades again,
to be trampled on, by the feet of men.
Cast not your pearls, before the swine, in the mud you see,
for they only laugh at you, your just a muddy mess to be.
When the clock struck seven, I must confess,
my mind was little more than a mess.
"Listen for my word in your conscious stream",
I said in the language of my dream.
You’re in a fine mess.
Admit it and embrace it.
This is the result of your obsession.
It’s time to deal with the consequences.
You’ve been avoiding reality way too long.
Lying to everyone and especially to yourself.
Sure you managed to fool people temporarily.
You even bought yourself a little time.
But it’s all been a worthless illusion.
You lost more than you bargained for.
You came way close to losing everything.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
May we be blessed to understand
one of the most beautiful messes we make…
(which in itself is a keepsake)
is the mess we leave around the house
once we’ve eaten, unwrapped presents and played…
on Christmas Day.
So I suggest after the celebration is over…
before this holiday fades into the past….
that you sit and enjoy the mess a while…
and not clean it up too fast.
I hate when it's humid.
It's hard to keep my hair manageable.
Gotta do what you can.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
The party was pretty wild.
I'm stuck with the morning-after mess.
My hangover's just barely subsiding.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2025
A Well-Dressed Mess
Sometimes she feels damaged and dark.
and that no one really sees or knows how deep it goes.
The contrast is stark.
Difference is night and day.
Her aura and love for others shines as bright as the sun.
While her heart is as heavy and clouded as the sky when the storm comes.
Every time, she thinks she finds a safe space to be herself… feel seen, heard and understood.
it dissipates right before her eyes…
like cotton candy in a bowl
of water.
She tries to grasp at it, but before she knows it,
it’s gone.
She finds comfort in her solace and solitude,
because she’s unmasked and declothed.
No white picket fence & garden full of roses,
with pleasant smiles and false supposes.
Just her. No expectations and room for
discernment from others. The ones who
never really see her, are the ones who
stay... She is still figuring it all out. “I'll just take it
day by day”, she says.
She’s a composed, poised and “well-dressed” mess.
Striving for independence and trying to be strong
But, constantly succumbs to emotional distress
As though she deserves it.
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