you
that glowing moonshine
parallel to your reflection
cheerless
but
antic
whispering : unofficially nineteen never
we chase perceptively astounding normalcy
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 14–20, 2026)
whisper of summer
I recall days of gold
bridging the years
Time to still do plenty,
Mind again empty,
Ready for a new chapter,
To replace the old chatter,
With renewed laughter,.
Years to come plenty,
To embrace a new more Fun identity,
Despite an unhinged society.
For my troubled great great nephew. penned in 2025
Oh, I was teased by nineteen eighty-four.
When the TV listened to all I said.
I didn't realize there was a backdoor.
Come on in the bright Utopian door!
You're part of a long bright Internet thread.
Oh, you're appeased by nineteen eighty-four.
We'll travel the Internet forevermore.
Our Bot's on a social media thread.
It didn't realize there was a back door.
Beings strive to attain good credit scores.
TVs, radios, and phones hear your head.
We have been seized by nineteen eighty-four.
Digital eyes will lurk forevermore.
Secrets will not be easily shredded.
Bots know there is information galore.
Nineteen eighty-four thrives forevermore.
Years ago, its mighty code was embedded.
Oh, we were pleased by nineteen eighty-four!
We didn't realize there was an entry door.
We had to be back before the street lamps came on,
our bicycles with pedal brakes and a dynamo-light.
Things were just different when we were still young,
all meeting in the park for a game or clod fight.
We dug several forts and built up dirt ramps.
We found a dog skull near a cold tramp's fire.
We improved my friend’s treehouse with a wooden pallet
and made booby traps out of string and barbed wire.
We competed for height in the avocado trees
and made bows and arrows and spears.
We waged war with the ants using firecrackers
and in the river, we piled deep stoney weirs.
No day was complete without a cut or a roasty
though no one much cried until we got home,
where our mothers nursed us with cups of sugar water
and the stinging red kiss of Mercurochrome.
(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.
My lungs fill as I inhale the smoky haze of the September breeze.
Overcast skies stare down on me until the guilt drenches my bones.
A puppet to the pressures of most I cannot control, gnawing at my ears until the only thing I hear is the deafening sound of my own thoughts.
I no longer wish to be another pawn in this unjust game.
I will grow my wings and wander far beyond.
I shall not be influenced to abide by social acceptance, for I am simply over it.
I am over the influence.
September moon,
celestial skinny-dippers,
sangria soirée, so soused,
starlight swimming,
summertide celebratory,
singing soon sepia snapshots,
streaming in soulful sisterhood
psyches of sorrowful separating friends,
sadly, still scattered,
sweetly soliloquizing of
September of ‘76. ~
A month named after Maia
A transition from spring to summer
24 rotations on its axis
19 circles round the sun
a boy born, his future uncertain
years of hardship, keep enduring pain
Heart shattered at 16
and haven't recovered from the loss
her body cremated and ashes in the river
never got a chance to bid farewell
turned 17, oh what a miserable life
school life turned to hell, full of rumors and lies
At 18, graduated from school
his efforts and work never came to ripe
I hope you're okay on this fine Friday
accept my regards as this poet turns 19
Cause I haven't given up yet
What is the cost of one space toilet, dear?
Nineteen million, the price point is clear.
Why is it so costly? What makes it great?
Astronaut waste is stored for a later dumping date
Sent into earth’s atmosphere where it burns up
Urine is recycled for drinking. Go fetch your cup.
I am nineteen
but I look seventy-two
weird maybe
to those who are not here yet
in my heart I am singing and dancing
my arthritic ankles are laughing at me
I do not hear them
choosing to be young me as opposed to old me
my heart is full of joy
I am not cynical
only grouchy with one person
my husband, who must not mind
he has been with me for fifty-two years
with him I am fifteen
and he is sixteen
the ages we first met
we scoff at our seventy-two-year-old bodies
they are nothing like the real us.
Mardi Gras of twenty nineteen
Was the best parade I have ever seen
If anyone can top it, it will be New Orleans
Where I hope someday to become the Mardi Gras Queen
She was just a teen girl
When she got to know this cruel world
And now her friends are only five
That charming girl is no more alive
She looked in the mirror
As she knew mirror never lie
Finds herself lonely in the corner
And wanted herself to die
The pain she endure is not reel
She's just hiding how she feel
The smile on her face is just a mask
Like artificial flowers in theflask
People told her keep yourself neet and clean
Now she need to behave coz she's nineteen
And then she realised this cruelty has no brake
The world is brutal and people are fake
And I would be twenty in a month
with the confidence that I had the world to explore.
I could see the horizon out in the beyond
and time was most assuredly my ally.
It was a time of opportunities ripe for
expanding my imagination and unfurling my wings.
Youth was this verdant time of potential
and I felt like a magician's apprentice.
I remember the sun and how it shone on my shoulders,
how it would make everything glitter around and about me.
But mostly I remember how I'd look up and the warmth
of the summer sun would kiss my face as if I was blessed.
I remember the endlessly lazy dreamy summers,
how they were full of whimsy as if they'd go on forever.
But soon enough, summer would ripen to golden days of september
and I was nineteen, the carpet of my future unrolling ...
AP: Honorable Mention 2023, Honorable Mention 2023
The nineteen fifties were an innocent time.
We could buy a comic book with a nickel and dime.
Our dances were lively, but girls wore shorts under a dress.
Being tossed by the boys, who never went around shirtless.
Malt shops were on corners, and we could have a cherry coke.
We were protective of each other. Friendly, we always spoke.
Maybe it is because I grew up in a small Iowa farming town.
We watched out for each other, and we helped up who was down.
The nineteen fifties weddings were simple and quite sweet.
We served cake, punch, mints and nuts, it was a lovely treat.
The bride and groom were thrilled with each gift, showing appreciation.
We knew how to uplift each other and enjoy each cherished celebration.
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