The sun shyly peeked over the hill
as the cold air made whispers audible
and dissipation began to rise from the dunes.
The morning breeze stirred flurries of sand from dunes
where shadows stubbornly clung to the face of the hill.
A susurrus from the copse barely audible.
Upon the bench in the lee of fickle dunes
the old brass plaque gleamed in rays cresting the hill:
an inscription of grief no longer audible.
Ridged hill of letters, promises audible among dunes.
The strong current twisted and turned,
So much so surely no man dare enter.
However newly inhabited in this devilish stream:
A school of ridged rocks tumbled by.
Among this school, rolled the most honed of them all.
As he rolled he noticed the dulling of his fellow rocks.
they tossed and turned as the river quickened their erosion,
However,
Different from the rest.
This rock was adamant on maintaining his unique edges.
Finally,
After seasons of resistance,
The school graduated to the shore.
Upon arrival the young rock looked to his mates,
To find that they had smoothed their irregularities,
And he was secluded from their congruence.
Infancy leads to decline
Teeth twixt extremes
Independence grows
Ends in dependence
Hair sparse and grey
Nails curved and ridged
Skin wrinkled, loose
Muscles wasted
Bathing, a project
Diet, soft, pureed
Normal sight, hardly
Wits about, barely
Taste no more
Hear less
Tiring easily
Wanting less
I’m passively watching
everything slip from my once ridged death grip.
Maybe I’ll be happier this way.
Maybe my writing will become so much more profound.
Something more than diary entries from a distraught narrator.
I’ll rewrap myself into something much more inviting and thrilling.
Only writing of my hopes and dreams
I’ll sugar coat it all
Like a cup of bitter burnt coffee,
I’ll only be palatable
if I change something major about me.
What do I like about my life?
an easy answer now from me.
The first, to be a loving wife
then, next in line my children three.
Grandchildren to, are my delight
good friends I also love to see.
My health is without too much strife
I’m really where I want to be.
There is not much that I regret
somethings, If I could rearrange.
Then plans of mine I may have met
whereby my attitude could change.
Not be so ridged and so set
because I found it all so strange.
However, looking back, you bet
I’d be more open to exchange.
I hope my future years are long
because, I still have much to do.
I hope my heath will still stay strong,
and my old mind remains sharp too.
I hope to hear the birdies song
that greets each morning when brand new.
I hope our world corrects what’s wrong
and peace across our earth comes true.
Written: November 10, 2025, for contest sponsored by Constance la France.
Quote: "The ocean sparks the heart, inspires the mind, and brings amaranthine delight to the spirit." — By Poet
******************
Atlantic swirls, quilt sewn from hums of yore,
A glimmering shroud, a face in swing core.
Its ridged forms whisper tales long lost to time,
From Viking ship venture to the toil of slave chime.
It sparkles brightly in absence of light,
A flexible refrain, the sound of a gull's flight.
In its shadows, there is both death and gold,
Amid a tempest, the song of a siren doled.
Brine it casts upon the sand of the coast,
Sounds as a solemn plea, or a hushed boast.
Flows are at odds with the urges of man,
But chisel the underside of each span.
It shows gales and sadness of a lover,
And holds peace of the past eras hover.
Plenty of vessels rubbed against its fluid grasp,
And none granted the familiar embers to clasp.
Let it to bellow, or consent to its repose,
The Atlantic runs vast and may oppose.
It murmurs in dialects beyond our control,
Yet it lingers, as a whisper within the soul.
The sun is bright, warm
but there is still something solemn
in me
Something sharp, ridged, searing
I walk along busy streets, smiling faces
but there is still something aching
in me
Anger bubbles in my chest at the love that blossoms between the strangers
There is no love
in me
I am full of hot fire, of freezing water
Flame and ice collide
in me
My face is drawn with sorrowful shadows
I have the trot of a three-legged dog
I am not eager for anything
I wish there was life left
in me
Spire insight of silence
Swotch and bind, conspiracy of mind
Conspire and self-protrude
Mindless matter of maddened hatter
Borne gall of uncongruent bladder
Reign wettened confections'n faux pas
Pram embedded bedding of public propaganda
And poised for prose 'dulted diaper thrown an' broiled'n a gutter
Homely homelessness in wake of deft arms
Freshened refreshener and wetted choke
Chugged and driven doomed deliverance
Cut of word 'cross and lost'n devious drivings of work
Ticking tenor left fear to render
These haps to fall through ungloved metal and measly meak meal, and
Coarse feel along rift ridged riverbays
Swept upon eons of words spurred affray
Sully gusts, and worry t'encrust
And collect the lost worker from astray.
P- Proudly he stood, the nation's choice
R- Ridged in debate, a powerful voice
E- Eager to lead, with promises bold
S- Serving a vision, both new and old
I- In the spotlight, he rose to fame
D- Determined and fierce, in a political game
E- Energizing his base with rallies aflame
N- Negotiating deals, a businessman’s flair
T- To rally his base, engaging with care
T- Trump to stimulate economic plan
R- Reforming the status, with policies grand
U- Uniting supporters across this vast land
M-Making his mark, a controversial reign
P- Progress and strife, through triumph and pain
© daniel miltz
When I open my eyes at quiet dawn,
I see my dreams soar in the horizon.
If my dreams, soft as petals of flower,
luminous, scintillating, bright they are,
They shine in their captivating bower,
my dreams waft me away to distant far!
If my dreams flow like a humming river,
ridged rough hard pebbles are no barrier,
To meet mighty ocean it travels far
through steep hills and abundant plains, wander !
Part of our existence - magical dreams,
float and cruise like sailboats in the vast sea,
shine as rainbow, meandering like streams.
I hold them to my heart and set them free.
Inside this temple made of brick and clay
the many shades of your heart
are the prisms of my soul
Pinioned and shackled to your fires
we are vaulted by our own desires
two lovers breathing as one
Outside this prison of hell stands my nemesis
buried behind its boulders I am decaying
like a rotting apple de-pitted then discarded
Bitwise assaults to my soul,
I summon courage and finally break out
of this ridged corrugated pas-a-deux.
Hot summer afternoons
and the call
of glistening water lapped
a child's mind with a want.
Just home from work
we would pester our father
until he relinquished
and took us to the beach.
At low tide,
feet had to splash through
what seemed like a mile
of ridged and rippled shallows
before the water was deep
enough to swim
and wheeling arms
could be swung
without touching the bottom.
Heated all day
by a January sun,
the water was as warm
as pee. Long tentacles
of dead, brown seaweed
clung to arms
as if trying to snare
a soul in revenge
for some storm torn horror
that had ripped it out its bed.
But all too often
it ended the same.
Tramping back to shore
across the endless shallows,
feeling hotter than when
you first went in. Flies clouding
sweaty faces and then
there was the hot vinyl
back seat of the car
to burn bums
on the way home.
All washed micraclessly
from memory when, next day,
the mercury nudged 100
and a want
beckoned us to the beach again,
still no wiser
than the day before.
At one time, we held our heads held high, but we’ve been so low doing what we had to do Just to get by.
Yes, we once lived loved and had care, and this cold cruel world threw us all we could bare.
We started using for all the fun, as time went on, it became our number one run.
We once gave someone or something or all. For them to run and leave us all to fall.
We were all almost okay. Seemed to be emotionally sane, then we trusted and was lead to nothing but pain.
We may not be in pieces anymore, we’ve been kicked down, but we got up and started finding something worth living for.
Sure we may be a little ridged and little broken and we’re faithfully outspoken.
We’ve been threw hell and back and probably pick up we’re the normal people lack.
We’re courageous and kind, in a crowd full of people, we’re the ones that god will first find.
It’s WE that will stand up to fight so that the rest of the world can remain in the light.
I say WE because I am one. I understand that God gave his only son, but in the midst of it all, US recovering addicts have became strong and god will make sure we go tag along!
Ridged, broad and corky wings.
Translucent—your yellow
Iris sits behind the morning veil.
Short season of striking
color. Greed spurs you, or hope
Huddled against the bursting
Of a cursed idea. It will
Spread like children, carried
By the breeze that tickles
Your lobed capsules. They catch
Like sails. You would unfurl and fly
Instead, dragging your webbed feet
In the face of becoming, pallid
Bolts of cloth ensconce you. A virgin
Steadfast and shaking checks the hem
For stains on her
pure white
wedding dress.
With trepidation the dentist I called
Gripped by agony a terrible ache
He took one look absolutely appalled
I was in blue funk and started to shake.
Blue latex gloves he snapped on with relish
My thoughts at that moment “I cannot win”
Fearful and ridged felt sure I would perish
Many decayed teeth, clearly 'tis a sin!
Big Lecture on benefits of flossing
While he polishes a bright smile for me
Toothpaste now swirling my mouth is frothing
He's pleased with results I don't disagree.
Perfect fillings and extraction later
I survived, thanks to defibrillator.
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