crimson sky collapsed
in trance ~
distant shore swooning —
dissolved baleen …crescent moon landed
in sunset s p l e e n ~
narrowing focus to locus ______
____________________________________
Bronze Winner: Shortform Poetry
Prompt : crimson haze
Allpoetry. com : May 26
Sometimes,
We do not realize that it takes a while
To comprehend the meaning of our lives.
With vigor, vision, and dreams, we boldly
Say to ourselves, "Full speed ahead".
Sometimes,
After looking back, we are compelled
To say, "If I had only known".
Sometimes,
When multiple years have emerged;
When the roads behind us are so much
Wider than the narrowing roads ahead,
We look back and say, "Now I see".
The winds of darkened eyes kept me in the jar of rainy days,
Ghosted minds of echoing pain made in the hearts of fiery furnace,
Driven me to the gazes of twilight's shade,
Where shadows play, and petals fade.
Burning skies of melancholy days,
Hoping heart of seeking pains,
Cleared in the droplets of darkening phase,
Kept me in the fridges of narrowing minds.
Drafted days of sorrowful grins,
Into the heats of merry daily wins,
The thought of being in the attempting suicides,
Where the mates stared with the framed eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the spine remembers
each vertebra a fallen city~
skyline slumped,
streets narrowing
to cautious steps
Written: December 27, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Miranda Hawley
***************
Nutrition hums in quiet seeds that wait to rise,
A vow from earth and flesh, body never denies.
Exercise is motion’s hymn pulse that keeps us true,
a dialogue of sinew saying live in what you do.
Water shapes its quiet course through all that's unseen.
It shows us how to bend, yet remain serene.
Sunshine is the ancient fire that crowns the waking day,
a golden grammar written on the skin in slow array.
Temperance is the narrowing gate where choices meet,
Discipline of turning from the sugar to the wheat.
Air is the first and final gift, the breath we never own,
a borrowed wind reminding us we’re travelers alone.
Rest is the hush that gathers all our scattered parts,
a night-long stitching of the seams in tired hearts.
Trust in God is stepping where the lantern’s glow is thin,
believing there is beyond what the senses pull us in.
(With apologies to Rabindranath Tagore)
Where fear stalks the mind and the head hangs in shame;
Where knowledge is twisted,
Where the country has been broken up into fragments by
narrow walls of caste and creed;
Where words are mouthed for short–term gains;
Where insatiable lust stretches its arms towards seats of
power;
Where the clear stream of reason has dried up in the scorch-
ing heat of the forest of communal flare–ups;
Where the mind is led backward by Thine enemy into ever–
narrowing thought and action -
From this nightmare of licence, my Father, let my country awake.
Bondage of lies from the enemy. A thief who robs your spirit of true blessings.
Chains of sin that bind you to your own demise and leaves you bare and undefined, weakened to nothing.
Blinded to see the truth that will set you free. The road is narrowing and ending, Wake up ! see the light. See before you fall off to complete nothingness and darkness.
Spiritual light. Shining its light for you to see. The time to see is now! Only through Jesus’ blood can we be whole and free.
In the name of Jesus open your eyes and see. Let his blood break your chains of bondage. Let in Jesus to truly set you free. The only true way maker, miracle worker, and bondage breaker. Come to the healing Father in Jesus name Amen.
feet tracing ruts
softened by the weight of others
the path was worn
polished
not by insight
but by generations
unquestioning the same direction
a weed split the sidewalk
where my foot hesitated
they handed us maps
already marked, folded
creased at the routes
they wanted us to traverse
walls hung with heirlooms
no one claimed
shadows
longer than the rooms
classrooms’ chalkboards of certainty
offices pressed flat with protocol
we learned the art
of veiling the eye behind the eye
we drank from vessels
lips like waiting mouths
etched with forgotten crests
believing the shape of the cup
taught us thirst
air rehearsed its return
like a tethered animal pacing
the same invisible circle
inscribed with grace
shaped like a cage
narrowing the limit
of knowledge
of wisdom
altars made from repetition
shaped our days
to fit the mold
filed down the splinters of doubt
until only smooth compliance remained
tell me—
what is awakening
if not the moment
your hand reaches
for a handle
no one told you was there
and the quiet moment after waking
my heart
uncertain
unshod
hesitates…
What makes me smile is your contest entry
I laughed I sighed and pondered plenty
I feel so torn when narrowing it down
So many great poems in every round
Thank you for your heartfelt poems
Your words were unique and home grown
It’s a fun challenge reading to place
I appreciate your patience and grace
how I wish I’d been
a man, a dog, or a priest
being held from sin
by a roman collar or leash
how I wish my acts
were good and virtuous deeds
narrowing the path
for saintly men and their beasts
(“Loyalty Merit Badge”, 2010, original oil)
Loyal to the Last
In a dream I travel
Some journey of unknown length or destination.
It’s all good at the start
And then quickly becomes harder
A stalled engine, dirty windshield without fluid,
A narrowing road, reduced visibility,
A rocky mountain track where I’m forced
To carry the bicycle
My vehicle has become.
But as I go on and deeper into my solo trek
I still have my trusting pack of dogs
Who eagerly follow
Even as the trail becomes a narrowing ledge
Above the steep drop to a river below
Until eventually it’s all I can do to hang on
As I reach on tenuous holds to the final step
My bike and canine companions abandoned
Behind the last bend.
Dreams if nothing else
Give us snap shots of our mind
Overviews and magnifications of where we are
In a life’s journey that has included
Both the dreamer and his ever morphing dream.
But in the end the dream ends
And all that’s left is the dreamer
And the memory of those companions
Loyal to the last.
(11/8/24)
He stood, somewhat defiantly,
Among the “well” dressed
Frayed pant cuffs
Missing a button on his flannel
Well-worn shoes
Gnarly, veined hands
He would vote today
It is his duty, his privilege
An honor in his mind
To participate
In choosing a leader.
The line moved slowly
Each step narrowing
The parameters of his decision
He had listened to the rhetoric
Shook his head at the venomous accusations
Witnessed a sitting president
Ousted…in a bloodless coup
He worried about his grand kids
Knowing he would not be there for them
Would not be able to help them understand
Damn, he didn’t understand
And yet, he moved with the silent line
Pondering the repercussions
Of a single vote.
A lot of it happened when not looking,
they are captured as photo-images
still arriving
undeveloped.
Beneath the skin of a retro-vison
dark scenes of rain
slicing through confused clouds
forever caught as an opaque film
over half-closed eyes.
There are visible gestalts –
shadow dances of passing daydreams.
A mélange of cursory detachments
once mistaken for a life.
More small bundles of lost moments
left discarded
on the side of narrowing roads,
nevertheless, the time-ravaged
push on
to stake their claim on this day.
This morning or the next,
you vow to leave your camera at home
even knowing
that there are still empty spaces
in your ever-growing album.
1985. We looked for signs
not so much had changed
Wars in far-flung parts –
the same-O-blame-O.
An acceptable amount of body bag counts.
Was Orwell too early to be this late?
1996. Upheavals are restricted to
marginalized mobs. Heads are talking more,
there is a nameless fear and it's getting near.
Fewer western countries are smoking, though
many simmer silently.
There was this elongated period,
decades drained away
leaving only a vague residue,
a smear of narcissistic self-indulgence
begat a numbness.
Then we began to crave more.
2024. Now we see it.
its head is a swollen tumor,
it talks in tooth bites,
monstrous cover-ups go unchallenged,
its control is iron clad.
The monster is now global,
it gobbles up dissident thought,
it re-imagines the nature of
Jello.
The only way forward now, is through
the monster's ever narrowing ********,
besides,
most now consider
the nature of the beast
to be the same that it ever was.
remnants of a life built with purpose and pride,
small synapses of yesterday I recall
clouded in a narrowing vision, I slide,
lost in abysmal darkness, struggle and fall,
once a soaring eagle, now prey in despair,
days play out, muddled in confusion and fear,
doomed in the silence I bear only in prayer,
to savor moments that slip into nowhere.
March 18, 2024
Old Form Poetry Contest/Rispetto Form
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
rhyme scheme ABABCCDD
syllable count checked on howmany syllables.com
rhyme checked on rhymezone.com
This poem is a tribute to my brother Dennis.
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