His Riches Grew Yearly...
To Foot His Bill.
Family and Friends Dearly...
Cut from His Will.
He Had No Time Clearly...
For All Their Swill.
The Mountain Just Merely...
Made a Molehill.
I gave you every chance
I trusted and I believed in you
~ was I asking too much?
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Sun's swimming low
diamonds in the waves
heart out with the tide
lost between a mountain and a molehill
Chasing the night
sky's got no stars
moon hiding high
trying to outrun what's been done
tires spinning on gravel roads
the engine roars
filling the space between
dead and dying
Somethings need no explanation
You see a word
You know it's spelt wrong
A letter out of place
You just know it
You may know nothing about music
Until a wrong chord is struck
One bad note
And no one has to tell you
You just know it
I came to know you
Beyond the person people see
There was nothing out of place
No wrong chord in my heart
The perfect imperfections
A true mountain leveled to a molehill
There were no words to explain
I just knew it
Busty shaped and large of hip
the busy winds of October
buffet my brain
within its whistling cave.
Around the shoulders
of every lumpy molehill
taverns and tankards
bloom in a russet corner of light.
September leaves
leave, shaking their brittle cuffs
and frills,
they fly sideways
riding upon broken rafts
of tangled sticks.
October blusters as it bustles,
its wide-spread mouth warmed-over
by wafts and beery blasts.
Now is the time to flap long coats,
to run ahead of a creaking moon
as it rolls drunkenly
into winters nippy
and thin-lipped ice.
as i began to understand Virginia Woolf
her voice from a room of her own
i realized i was upon a mountain
she had exposed the molehill it was
the dirt soon revealed a tunnel
entering it opened a new horizon
where i finally fully grasped the world
surrounding Jane Austen
in that moment the mist upon the horizon
disappeared and i could finally grasp
her words between the lines
denied a seat upon the Parthenon
forbidden attending The School of Athens
she displays the truth about her gender
that soft restraint we find in mother
its wisdom resplendent
in that hardened fist of reality
covered in a glove of soft lamb
we forgive ignorance
or become yet another in the mirror
who denies the freedom the world
breathes in every breath
the child's first cry
should echo, i am born free
deserving a room of my own
all warrant the miracle life is
nascent in the gratitude within
OKC 6/22
Identity crisis
1 word has tit in it
Overall it does make you feel like a tit
Att the decisions
Who are you
Identity crisis
No matter how I spell it or shout it or whisper it or talk to someone about it
Noone listens
“Your not gay you like a boy”
“Are you a girl again”
“Are you straight again”
“Once I break up with you will become gay again
Switch it on or whatever you do”
“Who are you”
Identity crisis
Sometimes crisis feels like overkill
A mountain out of a molehill
Much ado about nothing and making a song and dance about nothing
Now that's irony
You may not feel it but your constantly questioning
Who are you
Identity crisis
Makes you feel alienated
You
You have to go through this whilst everyone else doesn't
No one can relate
I don't know who I am
Help
I let it slip away like a fistful of sand
I let my life slip away!
I sit at a crossroads
counting cars whizzing by,
I lie underneath a tree
counting bees buzzing
in and out of a beehive,
I sit by a flowing stream
counting fish swim upstream,
I hover over a molehill
counting moles making burrows,
I sit in a confession booth
counting people’s sins,
I look at the clock
counting the ticking of time,
Often at night
I lie on the rooftop
counting the stars;
Now old and senile,
I look back at my life, and I wonder...
Oh, how the heck did I let all those years
go by unaccounted for?
~04/30/23
~Contest: I Let it Slip Away...
~Sponsor: John lawless
*Image of God Smiles by Pixabay.
The Table is Yours
I glide between spoons filled with surprises,
determined to make the best of my fill,
in this manner, I think claiming prizes.
So slight I take, before greed rob sizes,
breeds avarice, made by my tales, instill
I glide between spoons filled with surprises,
I treat my table for none, chastises,
scorn bugs cheer, I use, superior skill,
in this manner, I think claiming prizes.
My views are all mine, other surmises,
Live whole, die happy, and I am uphill,
I glide between spoons filled with surprises,
I chose my independence; it rises,
some ills my mood, nothing changes, free will,
in this manner, I think claiming prizes.
My metaphors used spell true life guises,
My mountain I fit into a molehill,
I glide between spoons filled with surprises,
in this manner, I think claiming prizes.
2022 August 03
Used to fear the dentist
and most things electronic
The mere thought of eyedrops
produced pleading and histrionics
Trying new things or making a speech
standing before a class with nothing to teach...
Having to confess the many errors of my ways
left me utterly chagrined, embarassed to say --
"Here they are," all my flaws and my weak points
not realizing I was about to greatly disappoint --
Only myself, and not any others; for that is
how to dig yourself a mountain from a molehill
~ my dear sisters and brothers...
Magnificent marauders masquerading magically might mean
Messy mollusks masticate marbled marigolds momentarily.
Maybe.
Moreover, momentous mosquitoes might make marvelous mini-muffins mixing marmalade momentarily.
Meanwhile
Minnie made monthly memories merely medicating masses
Mediocre men mysteriously manufactured man-made missals
Might mean
Millionaires mystify magical muggles’ meager melodies making
Magnifying, mollifying mortifying mind-blowing majestic missives.
Moreover,
Mummies, mammograms, mushrooms, minks, musicians,
Models, maestros, minions, muskrats, merry men
May
Momentarily medicate marvelously magnificent marauders.
Meanwhile
Mary May memorize multiplication minimizing
Mark’s Mother’s marmalade mini-muffin memory.
M might make momentous mountain-mincing molehill.
Depends on what shirt I've been wearing
The colour, the texture and pile
I may get a mountain or molehill
I know either way it smells vile
My navel resembles a cauldron
A mixture of cottons and fluff
And each time I dip in my finger
It comes back all covered in stuff
And after a dig I can't help but
sniff what my digit produced
I've tried and I've tried to quit it
I give up, this quitting's no use
The button I've got on my belly
designed for a rummage and pick
a haven for my tummy boogies
I bet now you're feeling quite sick.
From all outward appearances
It seemed they were having a lovely evening
But as soon as they got home
She started seething
She accused him of being too friendly with the waitress
He said "I was just being polite"
She said he was a liar
and he said , "Yeah right"
She said "You're sleeping on the couch"
He said she was making a mountain out of a molehill
She slammed the door
In the morning they'll make up still
Until he leaves the toilet seat up
Then they'll start all over again
M-ake a mountain out of a molehill
I-n May thirtieth warm day;
C-ome and treat a trifling matter,
H-aving a great value in any way.
E-vade belittling the ants,
L-earn a lesson from them instead;
L-ook! they can carry bigger things in unity,
E-ven if they have no king or head.
C-onvert garbage into gold,
A-void disparaging anyone at will;
C-reate an asset out of a liability,
H-ave to make a mountain
O-ut of a molehill.
Though you call me molehill,
Still I shall attain my height.
The more refuse you deposit
The higher and mightier I become.
So when you blow up your dust
Or sling your wicked mud
And in your joy on me they sediment;
Mock me not I do not see mud nor dust
But another layer of my enviable size.
Your garbage is by no means hurdle,
It is the thrust to my destined height.
Songs of power,
Something inside so strong.
8/11/2015.
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