A treasure was given to me
One with whom I could never depart
Day after day, I saw decay
Form in the center of my heart
I watched pieces harden and split
Discolor and begin to chip
I told myself that one day
I would have the money to fix
...what I was breaking
Robbing the world of beauty
Given to me for my joy
By keeping you, safely in place
You remain my baby boy
There are so many elements
Outside the doors of this house
That can kill and maim
What I must never allow
....suffering
No, no, my sweets, surely you see
All punishment belongs to me
I tried so hard to clean it up
The systems riding my back
But it seems as though
I have taught you the way of lack
There is no way I can repair
What I broke with Mama's tools
Restoration can only come
When necessity pulls
...value
It is not enough for me to see
The gift of you in the reveal
Seed lies dormant in ground
And I am he that wishes to steal
You do not belong to me
I am not granted your soul
I enjoy your presence, always
But it is time to let go
....and observe
The grand rising of light
As the mason repairs our sight
Written by Trudy Schrader on 04-12-2026
I sit alone upon this bench at night
Escape the daily grind within my life
Surrounded by the silence, I feel free
And smile because this bench is my repair.
The cool night air awakens inner thoughts
Relieves the tension of my busy day
In peaceful solitude I feel refreshed
Then leave my park bench, knowing I'll return.
Every week hearts come in.
Desperate. I can't refuse their mending jobs.
I'll do what I can.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2026
When in the U.S.A., and morning has broken,
'I'll fix breakfast,' are the words I heard spoken.
In reply, I would say, “To the kitchen I'll repair,
mend the coffee and, then, when I'm there,
what's more, I can restore the trash within our dustbin,
just refurbish the rubbish, and take it out, or leave it in.”
Altho' I tend not to be hungry, I've been supine all night,
yet I'll savour the flavour of her fine earthly delight(s).
Get stuck in and tuck in, with gusto, for a fry-up,
as 'shrooms, eggs, rashers and toms will all soon dry up.
But bring on the best of British brekkers,
black pudding, bangers and beans,
as bubble and squeak speaks to me,
if you know what I mean(s).
I pried with a screw-driver driven into a lid
sealed with age, and rust, to crack open a
callous retribution, set aside, tombed over.
I was curious to learn how much remained
and in what condition. Up came the lid with
a gurgle, fizz, hiss, expelled with age smell.
The paint on top, had dried, to a skin, a curd,
a viscous scum of strange foreign color that
did not auger well for its pending redemption.
I poked through the thin skin, scooping it out,
to reveal the paint separated into its primary
colors. Once, thrice stirred, it slowly rejigged
into its original color and form, ready to adorn
marks on the wall, scraped and sanded ready
for a fix, now all's done dusted, and forgiven.
An Ice Fishing House, Abandoned, in Need of Repair
That same shed waits
by the trees.
Waits on its skids
for the lake to freeze,
and the for the creaking
joints of bickering
stoop-shouldered men
as they push it out to the center
of a pool of glass.
It houses the stories of fishing
in winter, pulling sustenance,
wriggling, through chiseled
portals into another realm.
Old men would wait
like death, slow,
their breath
turning to steam
until they could abduct
their prey from the world below.
Trout would flop
with the thickness of a muscled fist,
striking ice like distillery rage unhinged.
They would twist and corkscrew,
mottled black and silver slapping
the frozen pane of the lake,
waiting for suffocation to take them,
as the old men drifted up in
the steam of twice-warmed coffee,
and the willow-the-wisp exhalations
of ribald stories, retold, and finally forgotten.
Though the wounds may be deep, and the scars may be wide,
We can stitch them up, and let our hearts guide.
We can learn to trust, and love again,
And let the past be gone, like a gust of wind.
We can fill our hearts, with joy and peace,
And let go of the hurt, with newfound release.
We can find our way, through the darkest night,
And let the sun shine, with all its might.
A broken heart shattered like glass
A cold angry wound from the blow of a knife
Emotions in turmoil as I drown in despair
Any ongoing night that never ends
A darkness so black I struggle to see
Disloyalty and trust damaged beyond repair
Abused and abandoned in a harsh reality
Twisted thoughts play games in a screwed up head
A saviour so absent I fear for my mind
Despite endless attempts to avoid it
We can't sidestep it forever
At one point or another
We all sail into stormy weather
When your ticket gets punched
You'll be flooded with sadness
Turbulently twisting and turning
In a constant state of madness
Next comes the hardest part
Your ticker just can't take it anymore
Furiously feeling the crack in your heart
Misery making you crumble to the floor
Dragged down into the depths of despair
Searching for a watershed moment
Surely there is a solution out there
To put your pain into postponement
Fortuitously stumble upon a toolbox
Time to tune up your heart
Grab the Elmer's glue for the fracture
Then duct tape other pieces that fell apart
Subsequently realize who sent the repair kit
Sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, fathers, and mothers
All chipped in to cobble it together because
Heart splinters get sealed with love from others
The little ants,
Collect their grains,
With effort immeasurable,
Only too find them,
Erased by waters...
Little honey bee,
For a drop of nectar,
Visits thousands of flowers,
To get them only stolen,
By human selfishness...
Great and small builders,
Building brick by brick,
Erect marvelous monuments,
Only to find them razed,
By rival rulers and kings...
Innocent children,
Keep on building,
Beautiful sand-mansions,
Only to get them washed away,
By unpredictable waves...
......................
..................
..............
I too, often, meet my plans,
Witnessing ruins by my very eyes,
Yet, like ants, bees, builders,
And, above all, those little children,
I go on with reparations and repetitions...!
16 January 2022
Through the past two years I have made one decision that has changed my life
One decision to walk away and end the strife
Though times were bitter, they were also sweet
I chose not to accept defeat
Many people walked away
Those of many who claimed to stay
In a time of crippling anxiety
I had to work on my propriety
I had to realize I endangered my mental health
By condemning every inch of myself
Trying to do what others thought best
I had laid my soul to rest
Being a shell in an existing world
I watched as insanity swirled
In a time where I had become toxic
I knew I had to leave the feeling of being boxed in
Becoming distant from the world I knew
And keeping in contact with very few
I started to repair my soul
Against the damage that took its toll
For those of you that stuck around
I’m forever grateful for your sound
infrastructure repair
awarded to the lowest bidder
a few years ahead despair
Does it matter?
To have you only just as a chatter.
Does I have to show?
How much I love.
Compromises, restrictions keep me killing.
And you are asking, "How am I feeling?"
Does my happiness mattered?
Because when it come to this you just shattered.
Does it feel?
When a person rebuilt after facing many deals.
Dear car repair man received your bill of Friday last
Need I say when I read the sum it really made me gasp
The price of parts and hoses made up less than half
While the labour that you charged me that really made me laugh
The sum in total tallies twice what the car is worth
Even when the makers first produced its birth
I took my car to you for a tune-up and that squeak
You looked at it kicked the tyres said I could have it in a week
Now that old car it bumped and groaned but it usually got me there
Though at times I called it nasty names and sometimes I would swear
I know the paint is chipped and cracked the upholstery ripped and torn
But the radio it works just fine and it has a special horn
The tyres hold the air okay and the smoke is not that dark
And it usually gives a little sigh when I put it into park
I'd be sad to see the old bomb go it's really been a mate
Its been around for so long now I can't recall its date
I know it's not a new car and it has served me well
But rather than pay your outrageous bill
Why don't you drive it straight to hell
We have to Rethink
what our choices are
so we can choose
life that doesn’t stink
We have to Refuse
our single use mentality
with all our ability
making sure we defuse
We have to Reduce
all of our consumption
to stop our destruction
with absolutely no excuse
We have to Refurbish
everything that we make
or nature will bellyache
grumbling with human rubbish
We have to Repair
before replacing with new
so the garbage spew
is not in despair
We have to Repurpose
for all our productivity
to not feel guilty
in our climate crisis
We have to Recycle
for our last action
with a strong interaction
for all life’s survival
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