Muddy waters makes dirty tea
a glass half full is still half empty
Only love can mend a broken heart whole
and only love can break a heart so
To be first will someday pass
others better will make you last
To tell a lie can ease the truth
Baby Ruth was named for Babe Ruth
Texting while driving where does it lead
six feet under in the cemetery
I drink my coffee black with sugar and cream
if whispers aren't heard better scream
Silly is silly and fun at times
it's even better if it rhymes.
Catfish lies in mud.
He slithers through slimy swamp.
Ah! Breakfast is here!
Winner 8th Place: 1468 Brian Stand (Sponsor) 5/2/26
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 heavy rain has caused mass run-off from bare farmland above
and the creek has become murky and muddy reddish browned
How do the fish, the turtles, eels and also tiny shrimp, maintain vision,
to fossick for their food in the locality where they are found
In the tropic monsoon wet season, it can often take some weeks
before the creek has subsided and the water finally clears
Environmental pollution, that results from mans pursuits,
it's exponential, been happening for years
Will it take mass extinction of most of humankind to return to sanity,
on this beautiful creation, known as planet Earth
Craziness prevails throughout the human race
common sense and love seems to be in a state of dearth
If roses are red
Is blood made for drinking?
Our heart beats so loud
You don’t know what we’re thinking.
Smith & Wesson were very, very creative serial killers but (of course) that pair were no match for the absolute master … *God.
*God - When I say god, I mean an abstraction invented to quench a thirst, relieve an empty stomach, and kill your neighbours for one or both.
the ditch is always rejecting things
spitting them high up onto the river’s banks
last week he spit up a rusty knife and a hammer
Today he spit up something that was moving
Was it a tiny kitten? A dirty bunny?
A mechanical toy of some sort or another?
It was a mud brownie, and he was furious.
I was rejected by so many, he said, but never a ditch!
We left him alone, because he was angry.
Grumbling and mumbling, irritated about this.
Would he go to the river and clean up?
None of us had any guesses. Never saw a brownie before.
Stan left his van out of gear,
Then to his surprise and fear,
The van started to roll
Toward a great muddy hole,
Where Stan watched his van disappear.
the dog is muddier than I feel
we are both grimy
gritty
ridiculously filthy
the dog and I
He’s been mudding
I am super casual
in my pajamas for the sixth day
we are a smelly matched set
Wilted flowers
Wilted flowers lie in empty fields
Days pass as flies scour,
Leaving the decomposing ideas to be eaten.
The sun flickers as each minute weans by
An empty shell of you left in bloody waters.
A quiet silence crowding the space your words claimed.
The once blooming pedals, scorned by your nectar.
Craving the burn you bring into my veins; no longer able to be muzzled
A type of silent desire for chaos and destruction.
A desire for deforestation.
What started as weeds being plucked,
Turned to mowing down rose bushes.
Muddy boots left on waxed floors,
Destruction on the original wood grain that was once admired by generations.
Floors handcrafted from trees outside of what I wanted to call home.
Someplace silence was peace and peace was expected rather than craved.
Pruned roses left puddles of milkweed
Each droplet going sour the second it fell,
The bitter taste of cyanide leaked out of your pores into its water supply.
Empty plots. Pesticides. Ripped roots.
large is love abound
pigmy sweethearts muddied found~
with g
a y
a
b
a
n d
o n
The silence, filled with whispers of turbulence
Crashed against the tide of an ephemeral moment
Perhaps fate has a strange way of entwining chaos
And we're meant to tie its loose ends with muddy hands
The affinity to tangle even the simplest ties
Is perhaps what's most befuddling
Yet I stand here
Pondering on this connection-
With our fitted glances and stolen good-byes
Could it have been any different?
We love playing in the street
To escape the summer heat
On this day we walk to the park
Feeding chicks who stole our hearts
Suddenly the weather did change
We got caught shoes off in the rain
No need to fret for the animals don’t
Not upset we sing a rainy day song
Splash splash near the duck pond
They take a bath as we carry on
Find a double puddle to splash in
Left foot right foot jump and grin
There’s a rainbow in the sky
And we make great mud pies
A bright day and there’s still sun
Dancing in rain we have much fun
I see some mud
attached to my
bike's wheel.
I just don't take
notice since
my path is cemented.
Until, I recall
some path have
potholes soiled.
Now, I know
life on the way
gets muddy, sometimes.
Children cherish a summer rain
it turns them into unchained frogs
hopping around the gushing drains
splashing about mud puddle bliss
catching those silver manna drops
with pinkish frog tongue flicks.
The chalk people, in meltdown mode
bark out from plastic abodes
warning of killer lightning flashes
thunderous bolts and lion slashes.
The chalk people strip the hoppers
of their short-lived, muddy happiness.
Scolding them into a soapy warm bath
quieting them into smaller pieces of themselves.
God bless the muddy hoppers.
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