I professorially , perceptively
unofficially
noiselessly spoke
that addlepated
moldy merchantman
would pass
through foaminess
with volumetrically
unretrievable moonshine
and sunberry fodder
for bungarus
his puppyish
impracticable tantrum
impeccable monotonous drone
rowdy crescendo
a classic companion dither
could they brainwash
this opposer ?
but lukewarm normalcy
will not obstreperously come .
okay !
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 14–20, 2026)
The coal mine of drainstream life.
Is predating the Canary in journalistic
Terms' under a banking strike.' De-banked
As per the central plank, of an atrack
Now i'm not political' yet i see free speech
As most critical.' Its abhorrent to so be'
And quite un-holy, as much, as is the vatican] see.' This cabalistic attack, a stab
In freedoms back, here my only agenda
Is that coherent reporting be not constrained by otherwise profligate spenders, wake up be aware, we need
Free speech forever and always to be there.' its jyst so splendid and i for
One hold it very dear.!
Limerick . For Christopher Delegans Contest.
Syllables in each line: 10-10-7-7-10
The town of Hull befell a misty fog.
Not safe to be out for man, cat or dog.
Rex missed the weather report.
In this pea- soup, he got caught.
So that is the end of his epilogue.
All I can remember, so dear to my heart,
children playing in the yard, before the bell rang,
some admiring the new mural on the wall, reminding them
of mother nature.
Or the shaggy neighbor's dog barking at a playful bumble bee.
It was a nice sunny day with few clouds hovering above.
And then the bell rang and children lined up before marching inside,
and now I could hear the principal scolding a girl for missing her notebook, saw a teacher opening a window for fresh air and then raising her head, as if noticing a plane, but it was a bomb and, suddenly, they were all gone, reduced to ashes, with a giant explosion that deafened my ears, and then all i could imagine where the painful cries...
The Donner's left Springfield in forty-six,
but they took Hastings Cutoff and got in a fix.
Things got a bit tense as they continued to tramp,
but they found themselves a nice place to camp.
Their Winter hideaway scenery was inspired,
but the food, they say, left something to be desired.
From a microscopic spaceship,
I observed the following, unnoticed
(see the attached picture):
- liquid water on the planet's surface;
- the vaporized form of this compound in the atmosphere,
blurring the satellite seen on the upper right.
A female of the dominant species warrants attention.
She carries the reproductive portion common to this world's stationary life forms.
She, a moving organism, possesses similar qualities -
in their language, "beautiful".
Squiggly lines, short and tall lines. Back in a classroom eating a box lunch with Donna, my attentive husband and other strangers.
—by Poet
pie charts & graphs
nodding
need coke & understanding
flipping
pages & eyelids
nibbling
caffeinated cookie
all
the way through
presentation
Hypothesis:
What is an ego anyways
Are we born with it
And from the moment we have the willpower
we’re tasked with muting it
Or does it grow from experiences of rejection
Fed by whom?
Is it intrinsically preserving,
Extrinsically repelling…
For the sake of avoiding philosophical debate
Let’s say we have an agreed upon theory
Experiment:
I’d like to think my ego dissolved
The moment my mother dropped me
From her arms before I ever had a chance to challenge Piaget’s concept of object permanence
And when I plummeted to reality
I landed upon the selfless idea
That if their need for affirmation
Could supersede my need for survival
Then I could keep from ever falling so tragically again
Analysis:
And though ego death happens in silence
It’s showboating that sustains ego life
Suppose one without the death
could never question their impulses.
Without an initial fall
The ego can’t even see it’s own reflection
I have finally used up all my COVID toilet paper
Am still finding MASKS in various places
The rubber glove supply is slowly waning
The alcohol wipes dried up six months ago
The foot prints in the supermarket have totally faded
I’ve even seen people in the checkout lines talking
So much for six degrees of separation
Hand shakes are making a comeback
While fist and elbow bumps linger
When playing basketball
being tall is best it's thought
but that's not all
wearing saggy baggy shorts on the court
needs keen hand-eye coordination
plus being fleet of foot
and have no quibble with dunk or dribble
if through the hoop a Wilson you wish to put.
As for American football
boring from the sideline I find
it's more talk less action
namby-pamby as opposed to rugby
which is wilder less calmer
and without all the body armour
now there's a game with some traction.
America's pastime baseball
is another matter
whether pitcher or batter
with Rawlings or Slugger
when on the mound I have found
unlike soccer or rugger
before a ball the hurler throws
and the pitch is hit or caught with a mitt
first rearrange the private parts in public
twitch the cap and then spit.
Praying mantises, those arthropod thugs,
prey upon other, unfortunate, bugs,
"But who prays for the praying mantis?", I ask,
"And what lurks behind that killer's mask?"
After the males have fulfilled their function,
the females seem to lack compunction,
practicing sexual cannibalism, they say,
enjoying a nice meal after a roll in the hay.
While males consider this distasteful,
females say, "it's just not being wasteful".
Is the praying mantis truly mean and vile?
In the insect world, he stands on trial.
Speaking for aphids or ants or anything little,
I argue vigorously against acquittal.
The phantom of the opera was sincere,
but, with him, I wouldn't want to share a beer.
Not only that, but furthermore, in any case,
have you ever happened to see his face?
A spectral figure, clothed in red,
he had no face upon his head.
High o'er Paris on an opera house roof,
she described that phantom goof -
here is what our pretty Christine said
about our hero whom she had misled,
"he's a monster, a loathsome beast",
an understatement, to say the least.
nothing much to report
except renewal
continual
of vibrant stillness
that betwixt bliss beats
enlivens presence
with the flow
of soma nectar
dripping through nadis
bringing thus to life
dormant nodes
that all then conjoin
tango dancing in unison
creating a rhythm
that amplifies
bliss reverberations
fixating fickle attention
in the world within
aglow aflame
with magnetism
transmuting our form
into living light
at our core
wherefrom stirs
ethereal reverberations
fulfilling will of God
here and now
Earth
all ball
for the sun
playing football
spell
Earthlings are pink and furry, they look like yetis spaceman said.
The king of Utombbiblia rolled his three eyes under his head.
That’s not the report I got from the last two missions, weirdly enough.
Take my word for it, spaceman argued. You know I know my stuff.
The king was confounded, confused, at a loss as to what to do next.
When had these scouting missions become so abnormally complex?
He did not realize this one had been captured by a giant pink Yeti.
The last two had been eaten by wild boars, as if they were spaghetti.
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