I came to walk and sit beside a gentle babbling brook.
Every nook and cranny deserves a closer prod and look.
It was uncanny where secrets hid unseen from the naked eye.
Until a gentle nudge uncovered treasures waiting nearby.
I probed to look far beyond the smooth stone faces.
Into the spaces between the cobbles, into their hidden places.
For canny people know that gold is found where fractures part.
They follow the cracks that lead onward to a broken heart.
So, by hook or by crook, every crack deserves its chance.
Every flaw needs far more than a quick sideways glance.
For gold dust never gathers in the nook of a perfect thing.
It waits until brokenness, finds its voice, and learns to sing.
The crannies and cracks let the daylight gleam through.
They ask to not be hidden away, nor discarded from view.
With patient hands, each fracture is traced with gold—
Until the cracked and broken become precious and bold.
Hither and thither
to there and beyond
wondering whence and wherefore.
Each way is scattered far and wide
lost in every crack, nook and cranny
until a withering wily wanton wind blows it.
To and fro, there and thence to yonder and back again.
For, not all paths that wander are lost
nor are lonely white cloud formations
with all the world is before them
meandering to hither thither
and yon.
When winter comes and settles in,
I feel your absence more each day.
The silence fills the house where
there was once peace, joy and laughter.
The love we shared still permeates
every single little nook and cranny.
In my heart, you're still here with me.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Some days I am twelve or thirteen
Other days I am eight or nineteen
Age is nothing at all, which I have now seen
Glad to be an artist and poetry queen
I have no advice for you, for I do not live your way
Except to enjoy every nook and cranny of every day
Be yourself, and never be afraid to play
Dancing is great, if your ankles will sway
I say to my youngers, do everything you want to do now
I have trouble walking in pastures, out to my cow
take the trips, and eat that sweet, fattening chow
do things that amaze others, make them say “wow!”
Seventy is the new fifty, is what I heard last week.
Fifty was never the age that I planned to seek.
Do what you want, never be too mild or meek
Seventy likes to sit with bare feet in the creek.
Some days you will feel like twelve or twenty-two.
This is quite normal; I know. I am seventy-two.
Do whatever you need for your soul to do.
to be the best you; to be the best YOU.
Facing my other
Your breath strokes my face
Gentle whispers across nose and chin
See every line and crinkle
Shared pillow
Helps to hold our embrace
I see every nook and cranny
Slowly I breath out
To share the breath
Of our early morning embrace
Irish coffee Sunday
...soft sweet
buzz
rolling around in my mind
there's her--
a thousand miles away
and me--
stuck since Christmas
preparing to leave
a bad man I am
to be restless as water
flowing right into
every crevice of her being
every nook and cranny ...
the width, height, and depth
of her soul
opened up for me
will I ever find no place to go
I hope so
yep ...laying my money down
she's bluffing or
better than I thought
either way I
can't lose what I never had
and it's worth it to "feel
the road rushing under my wheels" *
water doesn't know
where it's running
but places to go
it never runs out of
like these Sunday thoughts running
on and on--
--bartender
--'nother Irish Coffee, please
* from "Running on Empty" by Jackson Brown
DISCOVERY
Every nook and cranny I must comb
In my school bus, at the end of the ride
And I found her nestled under the seat
Now my thorough search was complete
I asked if she was alright, then she cried
It seems she was scared of going home
storm
howls
in nether regions
licking the dust off the earth
like powdered sugar
shaking
and rattling loose
all that's not tightly bound
driving and pounding
it spanks smooth beaches
wave after wave
lashes and crashes
against drenched shores
tide swollen
beyond its limits
challenging places it's
never been
like the wind
in every nook and cranny
groans
tosses
jostles
exposes
releases
its pent up
energy
in raging blasts
making you die
so many little
deaths
then rocking you
its baby
to sweet never never land
where you dance with
enchanted flora and fana
until sparrows crying
and fresh morning shining
awaken you lying
in the strong tender arms
of your gentle snoring
monster
Choices are never easy
Even when they're expected
Things sound cheezy
When no one is respected
Each detail makes you queasy
Your brain becomes clouded
Every nook and cranny
Has now been infected
We know deep down, we might be crazy
But with each detail, it will be debated
Our endgame needs to end with everyone happy
But what happens when we are self destructed?
Our knees turn to jelly
For it is nearly decided
The answer makes me uneasy
Because it was you I wanted
You're all I can see
If only I never hesitated
I could love you freely
and now I daily, am reminded
That it was never meant to be you and me
In the shadows of a distant village,
By the light of a Crescent Moon.
With death in the air, vigilantes swear,
That vengeance will be coming soon.
With hate filled hearts and eyes of fire,
They all gathered as a ship of fools.
They knelt to pray, had little to say,
Only the doctrine that the mob rules.
The crime on the docket was read,
The murder of the preacher's son.
Like a pack of hounds, they made their rounds;
And the search of a suspect begun.
Their madness had grown to a frenzy,
So uncaring of wrong or right.
Now covered in sin, the verdict was in,
Someone's blood would be spilled tonight.
For most of the evening they sifted,
Through every nook and cranny in town.
Not sensing danger, a passing stranger,
Was the one they chose to put down.
He was carried and tied to a tree,
They all laughed as he begged and pleaded.
Beaten and battered, nothing else mattered,
But to seek the justice they needed.
Repeating the most medieval ways,
Their methods and deeds were unsound.
But to no surprise as the sun would rise,
An innocent man would lie on the ground.
Into my general path with a low voice.
Included are profound love and rejoice.
There will certainly be no lyrical illusion.
Simply a breathtaking, supple inclusion.
In the same vein as a delectable sweet.
She brings joy and a soft, cherished beet.
This involvement encapsulates her well.
In the bliss of my life or in a crystal shell,
The lightness of the wreath is uncanny.
Gently pulling into every nook and cranny
The depth of the loyalty is beyond compare.
An immensely worthless treasure, and rare.
Her compassionate and kindhearted nature
It calms my heart turmoil and mind retainer.
Love that cannot be evaluated or measured.
That filled my soul with all that I treasured.
To have her in my life is a tremendous gift.
Is this love flawless, or is his barb less swift?
Her dulcet apathy, sparkling as stars above,
My lovely addiction, my unconditional love.
Written: June 08, 2023
Downtown
broad squares
highway
out of these places
every nook and cranny alleyway,
shabby signboard,
makes a terrifying sound
when the wind blows,
we open a very narrow door
and meet an old man
who greets us with a warm smile
across an iron cage
we are always curious
about the treasures buried
in the darkness behind him
They are of no use to him.
Where are you taking all valuables
and putting them away?
from the people
trying to end up hunger
Like the sound of the wheels
of a train moving away,
there was always silence that swallowed the light.
And he was the richest in our town
Of course,
reputation has always been like this
"Not even a person."
What happened to the old man
who took great pride
not having a single person
to pick up the items
Where did his cash and gold go?
Were his poor clients successful?
must ask pawnshop best customer
of the old man,
snoops down
the streets of prosperous pawnshops
in the 21st century mega cities
Tokyo
Shanghai
New York
London,
and Dostoevsky,
We must read his book.
I baffled why you furious mite
Sharing with me this half couch
And make my sweet dream forget
Disturbing and sucking from my pet
Claiming you and man share a life
Bring your descendants to gulp from my side
Gurgle like a baby
Even breed in nook and cranny
Smart thou art, mite living
You consume me when in deep inactive
Thou art is clever to capture
Just at the time I am gone
In twilight I can imagine your act
I can perceived your impression
Like elephant foot in mud
In me like one in coma
Many are dry tears behind smiling eyes...
Running hardened thoughts; mind softly endured,
To live whenever hopeful effort dies.
Only courage to proceed, breaths ensured.
The smiling face may hide such saddened tale,
That happiness said goodbye long ago,
But COURAGE TO PROCEED don't make you frail,
Conditions showing future you don't know.
How cloudy worries make potential hides!
Courage shining its bright auspicious light;
Into nook and cranny where dream resides,
The possibility life's breaths delight.
Be happy no matter what comes of hope,
Worrying only weak courage to cope.
*Image of Suspicion & Doubt by Pixabay.
Suspicion Fell on the Butler
'Twas a murky damp eve at the big house,
A frightening hallway clock tolls troll-less,
Hark the wayward butler a standard louse,
I glanced via the house he's gone I guess.
You're confident you've dug in everywhere,
Every nook and cranny cracks in the fence,
All we found were pipes but he is nowhere,
The shadiness of mistrust emerged dense,
He yelled at Mr. Cheevers, the louse claim,
He saw nothing he know nothing came up,
And shortly haunting tolling trolls proclaim,
Straggled Suspicion fell on the Butler, yup!
2022 July 25
*2nd Place*
One In Five 2
~~Joseph May: Judged 2022 July 29
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