In the corner
they've both been backed into,
dog eats dog
push come to shove.
For the umpteenth time.
We mustn't complain,
must just get back in line,
celebrate "freedom"
and "choices"
or else.
Written: November 05, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Hilo Poet
****************************
He ruled with a rakish grin ... a slack scythe in his sanguine fist—
A pharaoh of spurious gloat ... redolent of lard and treacle,
His laws ratified in rapture ... festooned the sacred with spit.
A seraglio of skeuomorphs ... hailed his wondrous fashion sense—
The riparian fields sank ... in soaked squalor and dysania,
He wore a nimbus of stink ... a stygian sherpa to dire fate.
In his sesquipedalian bragging ... the soul of land grew slack—
Each boast is a blur, each law ... a grieving gasp of suction,
Even the seraphic ibis flinched ... its wings dimmed by his shadow.
With tales of Siamese stars and stew ... he won over the jury—
Though the slack-jawed and gaunt group ... gnawed on serendipity bones,
There was no spark ... just the sizzle of sand in a dying sun.
Now his tomb lies amid a cold dune ... decked with dysenteric myths—
A janiform relic of zeitgeist and treason ... stripped of all zest,
The sovereign ruin ... no ripple, no ravel, no rove of resile.
the merely bourgeois, so-called collective Western world:
dysfunctional political economy, broken system w/ a
population neither able to solve the problem, nor willing to solve it.
amble
waddle
search
she strains at her walker
prowling the home's halls
shoe on one foot
bare on the other
in an other worldly time
her soft footed tracks
are marred with circumstance
"where is my shoe?" she wails
a quagmire to be free of
wanting to emerge
sure footed from this hobbit hole
I find her soft black loafer
near her bed
slip it on to her bare foot
like a snap of Cinderella
her discomfort subsides
a "thank you" chipped from rounded shoulders
sometimes a stranger can right hapless motion
when full sight is no longer stitched to an independent will
sometimes things are not exactly in the right place
not fitted with precision
when we can't see what lies ahead
like the end of something hanging over us
Quagmire of uncertainty, a murky blend,
Underfoot, the treacherous ground extends,
A labyrinth of challenges, where paths bend,
Gripping tightly, the struggles never end,
Mired in complexities, where shadows descend,
In the quagmire, resilience must transcend,
Reclaiming solid ground, on strength depend,
Endurance and fortitude, our guide and friend.
Marshy, muddy, like the alluvial soil after rains
Slippery, clutching, quaking, and giving way underfoot
Pulling the solitary wayfarers with vein-nerve strains
Pets and cattle, as though sailing on sinking boats, get hooked.
Is human kinship as smooth as rolling on fresh flowers?
Amidst love, laughter, and unbridled joy and fulfillment
Like seasons change from sunny summer to monsoon showers
Don't relationships bring in quagmires of self-concealment?
Under the seemingly muddy water of emotions
When headaches and heartaches dare to abide with happiness
Within opens notions of communication erosions.
Grass blades hiding the messy marshes lead to fussiness.
Ponder! Meditate! Contemplate! Walk in a Zen rhythm!
Quagmire says, Beware of the existential vacuum.
A quagmire is a soft, murky bog that shakes
or yields underfoot.
In other words, a swamp,
that is imbued with sticky mud:
where progress is slow,
for it's easy to get stuck.
A quagmire is also a synonym
for an unpleasant, constrictive situation;
which is not easy to escape from.
Look around; we are stuck
in a swamp of greed and hate,
a quagmire of our own making.
Bigotry is a by-product of manufactured fear,
as the blood of innocents sullies our souls.
And we are sinking into conformity;
stuck in the quicksand of complacency.
The hope of change is strictly rationed to the masses,
while tightly controlled by a few.
We are born as a cog in a system
designed to extract individualism,
and replace it with compliance.
Thereby keeping us stuck within the very gears,
that are grinding us down.
We need to drain that political swamp,
even though its alligators are always on patrol.
“I am my own worst enemy. This, more than any other trait, proves my fundamental humanity.” Dean Koontz
I know there is something bright above me
I can feel its brilliance
I want to rise above this earth to join it
I can lift a few inches, but something is holding me back
I try to break free
I realize
I am not just being held
I am being grasped, tied, and violently restrained to the point that
I am sinking into the dirt and the mud that surrounds me until all
I see is black
I feel my mouth and nostrils fill with muck
I threaten to suffocate
I desperately wish for light, for air and - there it is. Such Joy!
I am again rising to the light. Why would
I want anything else? But,
I can only lift a few inches. Something is holding me back.
Eternal rainfall spring gardens suffer
Alluring snowdrops drowned in sea of mud
Water deluge cascading down gutter
Daffodils suffer because of the flood.
There is sadness about springtime quagmire
With noses pressed against wet window pane
Waterfall moment nothing to admire
Birds do not sing mellifluous refrain.
Weather forecast grim there is no bright spot
Expectations of spring completely bleak
Wait, silently sleeping "Forget-me-Knot"
Pretty blue flower that is quite unique.
Emotional quagmire Spring Garden dire
Thoughts have moved forward will summer inspire?
If you walk on ice, you chance your life.Quote - Poet’s own
Was Christmas nineteen sixty three
When this story happened to me
Snow had fallen down thick and fast
So cold it was, weeks it did last.
Gone against parental advice
A friend and I skated on ice
It was on a local canal
Felt it was safe, me and my pal.
Wrapped cosy and snug we both were
Hat, gloves, scarf and boots lined with fur
Some lads were there, knew them from school
As boys do they acted the fool.
One came and snatched my friend's hat off
"Hand it back nasty boy" I scoffed
The boys then ran off with her hat
I chased them alike a wildcat.
To my horror the ice it cracked
I fell in, at the edge in fact
Clinging on, “save me” I did shout
The boys came and they pulled me out.
I slunk home wet, cold and hungry
Through the back door so none saw me
The parents would have exploded
If they knew what had unfolded.
It was a fright of a Quagmire
A warning to not play with fire
Never walk on frozen water
Sons, daughters do what you oughter.
“Fathomless faith gets divine blessings to rise from the entrapping evil marsh” – Quote by Poet
On squalid quicksand you walked obsessed and weary,
gripped by the demons of sin as vicious as they could be,
sank in the destined depth of abhorrent abyss of bane,
wrapped within the despicable layers of livid disdain.
The lancet of immorality lacerated the ethical essence,
you had long tried in vain to protect within sane sense.
The grave for the soul slain by the stab of sordid sin,
you had dug contrite in the ground of anguish within.
As divine awareness ignited the candle of hope in you,
you perceived revived the conscience got kindled anew,
and lighted up the dark alley of introspection inherent,
you reached the self-illumined horizon of discernment.
With your being cleansed of the depraved turpitude slime
by the allusion of self-absorbed sense of sagacity prime,
at the lit fringe of life you see the shadow of the time still
when you were entrapped within the quagmire of evil.
quagmire of desire
cupids arrow did not miss
love, passion and pain
'Q' Words
Poetry Contest
Chosen Word: Quagmire
Sponsored
by:
Constance La France
31/03/2023
Pixabay clipart:Ikut
“An impulsive action done in haste and without forethought can cause trouble and there is no point in feeling repugnance” - By Poet
When did she have a quarrel with life,
That left her mind with resentment rife?
Her dreams are blurred by a diaphanous mist
And her life has taken an ugly twist
When she felt she was not treated well
She decided to leave the house, seeing it as hell.
Now she wonders if it was an excuse lame.
Knows quite well no one else but she is to blame
She feels her life, now in a slushy quagmire.
Anytime her rashness of action could backfire.
Now at life’s barred gate when she knocks in vain,
The ‘no entry’ sign drowns her in pain.
Far out, her mind wanders into deserts forlorn
She feels the bite of heat even in the morn
Sure, this life for her has become a quagmire.
She desperately needs repair as like a flat tire.
_____________________________
March. 31. 2023
~ Placed First~
Writing Challenge ‘Q’ Words Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Constance La France
I walked the shape of a square
Inside of a circle.
I brought shrimp to a lobster fest.
This morning I woke up
With someone else's nose.
My niece is stuck in an elevator
With no shoes or sox.
The leaves need to be raked.
No one can find the rake.
My brother loves to talk on the phone
But he has strep throat.
I can't pick up the roll of paper towels,
I'm holding this baby.
I'm driving home
And there's not even ginger ale.
I can see the words but can't read them.
I can hear the sounds but can't put meaning to them.
I can feel the feelings but not know how to process them.
My toaster of a heart can't tell when the toast is burnt.
A roaring beach campfire
Waiting for reflective faces
That never show up.
The body as the asylum.
Choices that further enchain us.
You, please, you entertain us.
You will entertain us.
I will entertain us.
***
3/30/23
Writing Challenge "Q" Words Contest
Sponsor: Me, I'm sponsoring myself
Molten lava spews from my eyes
My mouth feels dry as the scorching desert
Fear, like an unyielding boulder lies on my chest
My heart chases after the wayward wind
A pit is forming in my stomach,
My head is riding upon a vortex
Conflicting thoughts swirling through my mind
forming a surrealistic whirlpool,
And I stand rooted to the ground
like the Ancient Oak.
A sense of emptiness mushrooms within me
like morning miasma obscuring visibility,
My past dusted off into oblivion
Every moment henceforth is
pregnant with novel challenges,
Tackling a new task overwhelms me
and despair pervades my soul undeterred—
Bond by fate
Tethered to faith,
Laden feet, I am getting
mired deep in a spiritual quagmire
unable to claw my way up to Mount Calvary.
~09/26/21
~Contest: "Q" (Quagmire)
~Sponsor: Constance La France.
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