You are a wild flower
Potted and constrained
You should be in a meadow
Where the sunlight is unstrained
The breeze should blow you gently
Not storms that rattle by
Those petals shouldn't curl and hide
Your beauty from the eye
I wish that I could carry you
And plant you where you'd be
That beautiful wild flower that
You were always meant to be
~ two towers brought down -
hundreds of souls turned to ash ...
we breathe death … and work ~
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art borrowed copyright-free by the author from public domain files at FreePik / Picasa )
I was driving a station wagon, Dad on my right
Mom, young kids, and dog in back seat
Construction ahead, a warning light
In my mind I keep the scene on repeat
I saw the truck in my rearview mirror
It was going fast, I was going slow
I couldn't accelerate as it got nearer
It climbed on our wagon, in Idaho.
It forced the rear of the car into asphalt
The rear doors sealed, but the dog did a vault
Mom lifted the kids over, seared her skin
Moved sideways and a flame shot up where she'd been.
We all made it out, and Mormons took us in
Kids made Mormon friends, and we regrouped
Took an airplane the rest of the way to the coast
Not a story of which I can boast.
Dad's summer teaching had to cover the cost
But we won something, not just lost
We found strength and friendship where we didn't expect
From people whose kindness I'll never forget.
Now every flashing warning light
Takes me back to that July.
A rearview mirror, one long breath,
The line between life and death.
Besides the Mormons, I also thank fate
Death has to come, but death had to wait.
WE WILL HELP WITH MESS
US IS IN SUCH DISTRESS
JUST NEED TO SAY YES
Cat climbs a tree on a whim ~
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Rescued from the Shadows of Ruin
My noble Sire Marcus Baracus, your legendary intervention has pulled me from the very jaws of ruin! I am eternally bound to your grace, for without your heroic shield, my cause would surely have perished in the shadows. My deepest gratitude is yours for the rest of my days!
Destruction
of self image
is the discomfort
perhaps the terror
of encountering
the absent self~
a story of rescue~~
She marries men to rescue them
Leroy, Dick, Tom, Jerry, Jake and Jim
None of them were ever good enough
The changes she gave them were quite tough
She refinished them from head to heel
a complete make over was her new deal
never the same men when she was through
She is currently married to husband twenty-two
Rescue dogs need extra care.
They've been traumatized and marked for life.
They deserve extra love & care.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
They call it selfless to get a rescue dog
The truth is the rescued me from mind fog
The day when you feel an instant connection
And have a need to show protection
They win your heart with those deep eyes
Abused and damaged, whimpering and cries
Feeling lost, alone and forgotten
Behaviour shows they are downtrodden
But you have a home for that special one
They have a special prize they won
With all their quirks and special needs
Your heart and mind forgives the misdeeds
Their personality shines through
A heart that is pure and true
The magic they share is unrivalled
When they settle and there isn’t a fight for survival
They become a part of the family and you
A love unconditional that you never knew
Like they were always meant to be there
A life complete that we can share
The truth is rescuing a dog takes sacrifice
It they are more than just suffice
They belong to your heart
Even when they sadly depart
You were always meant to be their forever
Truth be told they saved me
Then there were three
Quick clay
A dog sent in
Looking for survivors
Given the last hug?
Hunting for people
Silent in quick clay
In a delivery room
She was real and she was perfect
Stillborn
A song played in the room next door
Dobie Gray – «Drift Away»
No beat
A wreck on the highway
Knocking on heaven’s door
A graveyard shift
Knocking on the door
Silence broken by
Slow steps
A ship in distress
A chopper sent in
Looking for survivors
A doctor thinking
The silent ones can wait in
The cruel sea
The room was bright
The respirator turned off
Death was pronounced
The body wheeled away
The room cleaned and disinfected
Nobody should die alone
The shelves is almost empty, the fridge too
The christmas gifts hide under the tree
Few in number, all wrapped up in blue
Nobody tells her to get up and dance
Nobody tells her to sing, sing «Silent Night»
All is not calm, all is not bright
I hear bells ringing
I hear choirs singing
All is not calm
All is not bright
Shine a little light on
The silent ones
The man in the elevator was a plump rounded one,
The buttons of his suit almost coming undone.
He chortled with his might when I walked in,
His askewed moustache fluttering like a bee.
Whipping out a comb he brushed his hair barely made,
His oiled strands of four plastering on his head.
Next came the perfume which he sprayed with gusto,
While I sneezed and choked right in tow.
Pulling the belt barely up his tummy,
He cleared his throat quite like a dummy.
Off I ran into the closing doors with a slam,
Before his paunch held them back - followed by an "At your service ma'am!".
Rescue me
In a room full of faces all with nothing
To say
Full of anticipation just waiting for a chance to get away
All sat in a circle not talk but in
Silence
Eye's full of emptiness and a head full
Of violence
Not hearing the words that are coming
From within
Just trying to escape the game that they
Will eventually win
Punishment with violence and getting inside my head
Not feeling any emotions as my body
Is numb and dead.
How long will this go on will it ever end
Will someone come and rescue me
And help my mind to mend
Amid the fire of twilight sun
I wish I knew my way
horizon’s char and moonlight’s shun
has ashed my hope I pray
for dark cloud constellation to free
a cosmic steed for me to flee gunshot streets
for primrose to steal my yellow jaundice
and burn the itch in incense of roadside stars
for me to follow scent and sight
and find forsaken door
to open with my key contrite
a waif who’s lost no more
but gods of dirt and sky refuse
this pessimist with optimist dreams
side-of-road primrose mowed— as needle holes
grow my nebulae-scars of blown-vein bruises
a morphine horse runs dirty track
while stars in alley air
just stare and offer not but black
expanse —my nowhere lair
ski resort mascot
service dog all business
my life in your hands
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
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