Of Canvassed Raindrops And Mud
Raindrops and mud:
God cried today;
His tears fertilized
the womb
of Mother Earth;
the wet smell
of nature’s essence,
saturated the air;
the moist breeze
blew breath
of new life
into dried hopes,
waiting in the desert
of despair;
hopefully,
as God’s
nourishing tears
continue to fall,
maybe love
will hallow
her footprints
in the soft mud:-
I am flailing in the mud.
At last, it seems I am crawling out.
Yet someone pauses
To watch me.
The sun.
But it watches me far too deeply.
It grows hotter and hotter.
At the very moment I am about to emerge from that mire,
I end up turning into a statue.
Someone passing by wonders,
"Why is something sticking out here?"
That something was me,
Yet they step right over it,
And the mud
Grows only harder.
I am no longer even the presence of a statue;
Now invisible,
I have become the very earth itself.
When spring comes, flowers bloom,
But when winter arrives,
The flowers of spring inevitably fall.
Every sin laid upon me, left its stone.
Each dream denied, buried deep, is a stone.
Unkept promises haunt, their weight cold stones.
I walk, hunched by forgotten oaths, their stones.
Suffered wounds unseen, each bruise casts a stone.
Given pain returned sharper, molds its stone.
The choirs refused my ears each hymn, a stone.
Heaven closed; its silence bequeaths me stones.
Mud clings to my steps, the ground spawns stones.
The self is prison, walled in jagged stones.
Under skies, burdened breath, life begged for stones.
I build ruin. To endure is to move these stones.
rain falls on old tin
a stray cat slips through soft mud
mud marks my old path
CLOUD OF MUD
It is not a white cloud.
It is not a dark cloud.
It is a cloud of mud.
It doesn´t indicate the presence of the sun;
It doesn´t announce a rainy day.
It is a mix of water and dirt
It is not a white cloud.
It is not a dark cloud.
It is not a cloud.
Black Mud, Grey Ash
The water struck
and wiped a village
from the earth
A dreamland of golden wheat
gone in a single thunder
Trees stand empty
forgetting the lovers
under their shade
Silence waltzes
through the lanes
with destruction’s tune
Bangles
schoolbags
a lone flute
now ash
on the wind
And photos
hold our lives
breathing
in black mud
There’s a whole world alive
midst the mud, the dust and the dirt
All sorts of bugs a-creepin’ and a-crawlin’
ants, beetles, roly-polys, spiders, worms --
They just make me writhe and squirm
I prefer to ponder the skies
~ leave my kid brother to all those germs
Catfish lies in mud.
He slithers through slimy swamp.
Ah! Breakfast is here!
Winner 8th Place: 1468 Brian Stand (Sponsor) 5/2/26
Crawdad soaks in mud
Luxuriates is the word
He smirks in silence
In its place, not on a cart,
rutted and mixed with dung;
consistent too, in its purpose
as it was when the world was young.
No shame attached that from it came
fell man who disobeyed.
Man, who needed an ark and law;
who brought the curse and strayed.
The ox had stumbled in the mud;
the ox who pulled the cart,
which, though brand new and garlanded,
should not have played a part
in returning the holy object;
and as it slid to fall to the road,
Uzzah thought his hand more pure
and reached to steady the load.
Profane flesh touched pure gold
instead of wet chaste earth;
when a man thought too much of himself;
too much of his own worth.
He died right there with good intent,
and cheering turned to mourning
when mud was better than man
and God gave us His warning.
I rise from the rubble like Lazarus wearing a noose of night.
The gutter whispers my name through the teeth of tombstones.
Rain baptizes me backward, burying me in yesterday's dirt.
Every prayer I utter comes crawling back begging for mercy.
My soul stinks of survival-perfume for the punished.
Heaven spits when I shine in the slime.
Hope limps behind me, bleeding blessings in the bog.
This hard earth hugs me hard, jealous of my fall.
Under redemption's heel I was born-the gutter remembers my name
Splish splash
Mad dash
What could be more fun
than a couple rolls in the mud?
Come out and play ~
We could have fun all day!
We'll finish off with a garden hose
to clean the mud from between our toes.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
It's a yummy chocolate bath
What joy to play in slushy mud ~
Mom said to have fun !
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 2nd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
I’ve seen tears fall on marble floors,
Where golden gates hide silent wars.
Where perfume masks the ache inside,
And sorrow wears a suit of pride.
I’ve heard laughter in a leaking hut,
Where doors creak but hearts stay shut
Only from the cold, not love or fear—
Because even hunger feels warm here.
In mansions, beds are soft and wide,
But many sleep with pain inside.
Servants come at every call,
Yet no one’s there when teardrops fall.
In thatch-roof homes with broken chairs,
They pass around both food and prayers.
And though the pot may not be full,
Their joy makes every moment whole.
One cries in silk with diamonds near,
The other laughs with goats in ear.
The world may choose the flashing light,
But peace lives where the stars are bright.
So weigh the gold, but weigh it true:
Is comfort worth the peace it drew?
For what is wealth, if soul must bend?
It’s better joy with less to spend.
Rouge on old grey skin
lustre trying to conceal
yet exposes flaws
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