There is something that is almost love
The artist's call to capture an existence, symmetrical and pure.
It is magnetic and yearning
prying open my chest cavity and rearranging the vital organs to make a home for itself.
I almost love him.
I do not; it is but a trick of the light falling across his cheekbones
A muse that sculptors would've envied
Yet my heart quickens, seduced by the imperative to interpret such beauty
I am not a moth to a flame
I am a muralist to a whitewashed wall
A composer in a quiet room
A sonnetist to a blank page
but then the moment fractures, its fragile potentials
puddling back into reality once more.
A single drop of water
Trickled …
Down the window glass
A subtle sign
Of things to come
Puddling there …
Finding shelter
In the crossed wood
It, too, wanted to hide
The darkest blue clouds
Cold, crisp winds
That bind my bones
Kept me behind the pane
A second drop of water
A third and fourth
Then … thousands
Made the golden leaves
Shine …
Like never before.
surround sound rain;
I’m inside, out -
my feet feel bare,
naked, chilled.
fan forced to quit.
arms of Autumn breeze.
birds in the woods breathing
in the season’s petrichor.
noisy rascal - lamenting or
welcoming rain.
I welcome the swooshy-drops,
abiding chirps, puddling moss.
here it comes, the source
of time - lurking around wet bark,
reminiscents of perfumed family,
sloshing through crispy leaves,
pink coat
and galoshes,
yellow bus.
rain floats on air, infiltrates inside,
wetting my tongue and eyelashes-
perhaps those are tears. at last
too cold - boldness of October Sunday.
A baby jumping at the river
Grandmom puddling the stones
The cat saw the incident
Get a bunch of dry branch to puddle the river
Basin floating
Cat puddling
The baby was safe
Grandmom was happy
Giving the cat a thumbs up
What a happy story to tell
Amen
6/17/2025
Before Heaven began showing its anger,
stillness claimed ownership of the midnight sky.
But distant flashes instantly brought thunder,
I awoke from slumber thinking dawn was nigh.
Then that precise moment clouds began to weep,
were cloud tears giving my home town a purging.
Tears were puddling and I thought is there no end,
my interrupted rest was at God’s urging?
Stardust blankets lacrimosa skies,
a requiem of times gone by.
The taste of late summer nights still lingers on bittersweet lips,
yet somehow, now, it’s become stale—like blue cheese and old pickles.
A crisp breeze cascades from the north,
ushering in the dawn of autumn.
Vivid memories begin to fade from lucidity.
Crystal droplets fall from despondent eyes,
puddling around forsaken feet.
Swimming in grief, struggling to breathe,
I begin drowning in agonized anguish.
Reaching out for you, my fingers crumble within my grasp,
for ghosts can’t pull you from the plunge.
As emotions overwhelm with every heartbeat,
I sink further into this beckoning night,
my soul crashing under increasing pressure.
Flickering recollections fade in and out of view—
hypoxic, flesh turning blue.
Muscles tighten, flinch.
Clenching my chest, cardiac arrest imminent,
for your untimely demise was my fatality.
Mind flashes the past, in and out of consciousness
Unable to find the door from which let you in
Visions of your own past life's sacarphagus
With the zombies standing over it claiming next of kin
Screams carried through the hallways, echo's everywhere
Your eyes are slammed shut with shaking lids
This house you purchased has become your nightmare
As you vomit continuously the Demons acids
Whispering voices within the walls, who is it?
Someone you once knew or previously heard
Unable to focus as if you've become illiterate
Is this me in past life where I was tortured?
Sorrow bleeds down the walls, puddling the floor
The haunted being haunted by it's haunted self
In desperate need to find that door
Locked in this house haunted by myself
Written for contest Haunted House @10/13/2024
Form: Rhyme Hosted by: Tania Kitchin
WON 4TH PLACE IN ABOVE CONTEST
rain wails from the sky
the winter of discontent
puddling fury tears
it feels foolish
these rain prayers
deeply pondered
stranded in our shared heat
is there some unimaginable space
where prayers drift to?
free from time, reclusive
rain wishing
its pulsating pop that jumps up from pavement
a life force
puddling weeds from cracks
washing all, slick and sloppy
rain that settles a hot vacuum cooler
transfiguring gardens, a floral fanfare
rambunctious ramble
with carved trumpets of open orange lilies
in a retiring heat
we watch-wait for dark clouds in pinball collision
a meditation on living
for rain to bud the morrow, green
in a kettle drum beating
Fabrication
potent, brisk
tempting, lurking, exploding,
Time, Limits, Clouds, Romance
waltzing, shining, puddling
blissful, ceaseless
Reality
Owl eyes break as dimming light worms about,
Hollow clap surrenders a sparked ribboning,
Escapees breakout from their misty cells,
Wakes of earthen prints puddling,
Harbored ills bade sanctuary,
A glassy millpond beholds the begotten,
Abrupt warming tempts the absence,
Stirred tea sweetly idling,
An archer colorfully tools the realm,
Directives wondering,
Vibrant life answering,
A stranger to loneliness,
...I felt like being alive.
It once belonged to me,
but you’ve since traded it it,
exchanging every sacrifice,
every fiber of my life,
for your new world
your new wife.
I’m covered in blood
we brought into this world,
but it stains only your hands.
As I watch the souls
I brought into this world,
leave silently, innocently,
I picture biting into your chest,
tearing, ripping, gnawing
veins and arteries
as you scream
and bleed,
your blood puddling
with your sons.
And I’ll ask you,
was it worth it?
A fountain of poems is rapidly flowing out the top of my head
Some of them are shaped like stars
Others are diamonds
There is Dracula holding a bunny!
Some of these poems are in color, others are black and white.
Polka Dotted!
I pick up a pen.
I can always use a polka dotted poem.
One of them slides under my nose.
Old Spice! Daddy!
I think of the Chevy he ordered with bucket seats!
Making us angry; who orders buckets for seats?
Eager poems are rushing down my shoulders, down my back
Puddling onto my dirty kitchen floor.
When was the last time Joe swept this place?
One is shaped like Adonis. I follow him out the door.
A gutted mirror invents a tangled human scheme
My back might be found crooked from the jabber,
A puddling curb tried throwing the twisted dream
None bound for the scope spawned by a blunder.
My back might be found crooked from the jabber
Singing in heaven embeds tune of moral goodwill,
None bound for the scope spawned by a blunder
After a few years, you'd be ditched with side-will.
Singing in heaven embeds tune of moral goodwill
Straying guilt whetting shock and clear dismay
After a few years, you'd be ditched with side-will
The ridiculous concept of a fantasy hiding way.
Straying guilt whetting shock and clear dismay
The abstraction of waning grace is a little hazy
The ridiculous concept of a fantasy hiding way,
Tons of metal swords shattered by bared facility.
The abstraction of waning grace is a little hazy
A puddling curb tried throwing the twisted dream
Tons of metal swords shattered by bared facility
A gutted mirror invents a tangled human scheme.
Written: May 07, 2022
I am walking in the garden
of an ancient city
The walls are covered
with climbing ivy of a delicate hue
The dews are thick after the warm rains
There in the middle, the stately statue
withstands the stains
Covered in ivy of a intricate green
Blooms of unknown life glowing red
I trace the path of last foot falls
The age is broken and anew
Stone is cracked crazy filigreed
In the ancient courtyard
I follow it down a foreign history
The sun splashing though over growth
Over head the winds unsettles monolithic trees
Exotic birds sing songs to creation
The gold, ambler, crimson leaves take flight
Dripping on the weedy ground
Puddling in the warm sparkling rays of a dying sun
Leting it spill over me
The fading green bright fresh
In this ancient city of Avalon
This lost garden of Eve
The last empire of Adam
Mans only memory
Walking this spiraling path
This Helix of Eden
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