A single white rose,
stark against the scar,
left on a plinth—
pale,
pierced,
and pared.
Air drips with heavy dew—
a heady sip,
thick nectar stung by wind,
a bitter elixir on the tongue.
The faint decay of autumn bloom rises.
Petals—
crushed,
capsized on iron.
Ensnared.
Entombed.
Rusting deep in the split stone—
iron teeth gripping the grim root.
Under the rust,
a secret scarlet pulse.
White thorns wake,
weaving through the wreckage.
Wild shoots shatter the cage,
rising—
raw,
radiant,
and reborn.
For deep under the bitter stone,
beneath the winter's heavy blow,
lies the silent, secret seed.
It waits for the solstice's soft sovereign warmth,
to wake,
to break,
and build the bloom anew.
in scene one, i was at the top,
then the camera glitches
in scene two, i was in the motion of free fall
now all i can do is write about my pain,
that's how my days rusted and all of it is now in vain
i didn't held the ropes tight and i fell on the ground
it all feels so nostalgic, thinking about last year
i was working hard, giving blood and tears
for 'golden days' that deserted me away
Fire is a spirit,
crackling vibrations,
sirring catalyst;
force and energy
of the midday sun.
I raced over
mountains, caressed
hairs of strong
forests and rolled
over balling rivers.
But this dour
fluorescence Is a
used canister
rusting to dust
where doting memories
of the midday sun
lazy along the silver
line into the
grove of silence.
*Image of Out in the Rain by Gifer
Rusting In Seattle
Prompt rain starts~~I without an umbrella makes me feel dumb & dumber
2020 August 24
*1st Place*
STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (27) ,any form,any theme
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2020 August 27
Auburn swirls of wind-laden leaves
coast to the cleat-torn orifices
of soggy, mud-clung grass.
That massed flapping pile time capsule
of summer sunsets is crushed with entering steps
like the rusting rain refrain.
A shorn sheep freezes from dusk until dawn,
following a downward descending path,
tattered and weather worn.
Stepping stone pieces beneath our feet
beat against earthen clay
like the rusting rain refrain.
Stammering to speak for apathy's tragedy,
words are heard like Braille to a layman,
as tin roof dripping resounds loudly
for failure to embrace its sloping surface.
September's sobs streak down beauty's cheeks
like the rusting rain refrain.
A farewell feast of forbidden wheat
bloats our bellies into swells, stirring grief.
Playtime is rushed to sleep with resistance,
as cinderblock thoughts toss and turn
until drifting becomes corroding numbness
like the rusting rain refrain.
Trump Disgusting and Hair Rusting
Without a doubt Trump is disgusting,
And after women likes to be lusting;
Messing around,
We have found;
Not only that, hair has been rusting.
Jim Horn
My mind has all but left my head.
Chest is filling with panic and dread
Dried tears I cry all alone
The cage I've created has become my home
My soul is rusted,as the bars themselves
My heart put up on the highest shelf
My brain is pounding,my eyes can't see
Is anyone in front of me
Shoulders heavy with burdens I bare
Feel like I'm dying from the lack of air
Red,
Brown,
Gunned down,
A manchine ceased to be
Oxidised
Realised
Brutalised
Catharsis empathised
Our fate it seemed to be
Hopeful
Fruitless
Helpfull
Useless
Your minds bent eye sees me
I lie here shunned
Yearning
Turned
To dust as you do sleep
But one man sees me
Joyful
Insightful
Ecstatic for my bones
Use is deemed
Beyond whats seemed
From rusted parts and skin
Inside what counts
Is what amounts
To what comes from within
Sitting alone again,
Watching the world go by,
Counting minutes,
The clock is spinning,
I hate being helpless,
Hearing taps on the wall,
Locking my heart in,
Rusting soul,
Time is just passing,
Again falling apart.
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