Melancholy
In the day light of warm summer,
The old lady gone out of her home,
Toiling hard and walking barefoot ,
No slippers to wear
The feet became warm with pain strunken over her ankle ,
She could not walk properly,
Crying and walking
She doesn’t have money to buy ,
So she went to look for some work
Her life became miserable
Sadness and poverty curtailed ,
Everyday she had to go without slipper,
Her feet burnt and became swollen,
She remained starved without having food for many days,
Yet she had a hope,
One day life would change ,
Brings about prosperity and wealth ,
She would buy new slippers,
And nice food for her.
So many patients waiting with their dogs
I pitied the poor Doctor, Anderson Cooper
As time passed, my pity shifted to the waiting room
An aquarium it had ~ it lacked a pooper-scooper
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ Mary ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ with weeping eyes
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ gave ¦¦¦ birth,
And ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ friends, laid her in earth.
If any of them, ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ shed a tear;
Or ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ possess a gem
¦¦¦ dear ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ as this to them,
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ perhaps ¦¦¦ thy return
May'st find thy Darling in an urn.
(Blackout of Epitaph On the Lady Mary Villiers by Thomas Carew)
So, just what is poetry?
An endless attempt to rhyme with orange?
A forever searching of the soul for meaning?
An idyll fantasy a-dance with alliteration’s riffs?
An individual search for “our” Holy Grail
Perhaps, a distant song
Forever playing in our heads,
Sung softly ‘neath the murmur of the day.
Pitons driven into the stony crust of life.
A mud puddle inviting us to make mud pies
Rekindle the joy of soft pliable words
Shaping a moment to ponder
Poetry’s resonant question
“who makes the best mud pies”
This poor man's road, for dirt track
Stumbling now on down.
Humility's trite-spoke route!
And nearest semblance.
As dimly, shadily kept.
As meagre; minor.
Whose shafts of light passing through
Hope's rays, hearts of lance.
My limits have never left me poor
for poverty is not the emptiness of the hand,
but the silence of a barren mind.
A smile, a burst of laughter—these are wealth,
coloring what no eye can name,
where every living soul unfolds without end.
they hurt my ears mom
loud pops outside window
I hide under bed
Alone I lie, upon this cold tile floor,
a humble sock, once twinned— now twinned no more.
O cruel Spin Cycle, thou relentless wheel,
that tossed me from my mate with heartless zeal.
Where is my partner now? Dost he yet roam
the shadowed caverns ‘neath the dryer’s chrome?
Once were we two, a pair in woven grace,
matching in stripe, in purpose, and in place.
Together did we warm the traveler’s tread,
together faced the hamper’s rising dread.
But now~
now I am but a single thread of fate,
a lonely wanderer seeking out my mate.
What foot shall claim me? What drawer grant me rest?
What mortal hand restore what kismet hath oppressed?
O merciful buyer, hear my muted plea:
take pity on this sock bereft, yet brave.
Lift me from this sorrowed laundry sea,
and grant me purpose past the dryer’s grave.
For though I stand alone, my fabric worn~
still beats within my heel a hope reborn.
We are the last in line
Letting others go before
Looking humble
While being ignored
Fasting for heaven's sake
Takes no thought or prayer
Always repenting
For taking up other's air
We decline invitation
When obligation is at heart
Sensing instant relief
When we choose to not take part
Alone and isolated
With snakes leading appetite
Poison in our veins
Just trying to get to the light
The one thing we suppress
Is the surfacing of desire
Because in its revelation
We have always been the liar
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05-29-2026
The scorching heat of Sun has put lives on fire
The rich and the poor are equal
Seeking God's Blessings
Dad thank you for always being so strong, gentle and kind,
Mum thank you for all your love, your patience blows my mind,
Dad we all know that you’ll protect us with your life,
Mom our home is cozy, dad is lucky you are his wife,
You both work hard, but your money you spend wisely,
Myself, Ben and Fred hope we treat you lovingly and nicely,
To love and cherish you is what you deserve, wonderful
That you give to the poor, it helps them open many a door,
Hope we do the same one day, you have taught us well,
Will always remember your warm guidance, will always tell,
Dad your job takes you near or far, but your love is always felt,
Its magnetic, so assuring, so inspiring, my heart wants to melt,
And mum you show your love in everything you do, or say,
Each hug, each kiss, each phone call that you make, each day,
Will forever be with us, we will get married and have children,
Extending our family, spreading our love and thanking God,
We are blessed to have parents like you, all three of us are awed.
Sitting on the couch
Of my own demise
Feeling judgment
In many wondering eyes
Watching the system
Move people like pawns
Place winners in silver and gold
And the loser in bronze
No one desires loss
Yet it comes to those in disguise
It is the return to stasis
That vanishes the lies
The gift of process is hidden
Like jewels taken by the ocean
Divers risk their lives for treasure
Given over to centuries of erosion
As I investigate the matter
On my god-given couch
I can see, with perfect clarity
That poor is the system and I got out
Resilience is the ability required
To process pain to action
But it is the gift of grace
That has enabled movement through every infraction
...and I am grateful
Written by Trudy Schrader on 04-22-2026
Government has been rotten for years,
While good governance no longer exists.
Leaving many hungry power politicians behind,
With people who have no choice but to abide.
To abide those self entitled and ignorant public servant
while indulging power and corrupt.
An opportunist dressed in a Samaritan suit,
who always want to dispute.
To dispute a topic he has no clue about
As if they're doing it for clout.
Maybe it's a consequence of voting celebrities,
choosing good looks over good qualities
Qualities like integrity and credibility
and not manipulation and dishonesty.
We can work this out together,
vote wisely for the better.
Better might sound like a dream,
for best is what our heart scream
Make your vote worthy
For it's been a tough journey
Inside cat tormented by tempting birds
Poor Dan is in a droop... it wouldn't stand up.
Took a few colored photographs closeup.
Mad? Am I madam.
No, I'm Don Adam.
Holding up with Viagra, it erupts.
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