across the dark lake a rusty blade waited in the cold wet grass
two copperhead snakes slithered past each with a secret task
a frog hopped by on his way to get eaten by the snakes
the blade giggled a bit as the frog was devoured by the big one
the other snake slithered off, looking for something tasty.
rusty blade could relate, he was ready to take a bite of something himself.
He had tasted potatoes, carrots, steak, pork, and now fish.
There was nothing that he did not like to carve into
something small but fast rushes toward the blade, what is that?
rusty blade regrets that no one ever shared an encyclopedia with him
He had no name for the object, but he still wanted a taste.
He sliced into its leg, and heard a loud horrible yowl. He loved that!
I’ve always felt like ‘that boy’,
The scared little kid,
Nervous white fingers,
Clutched on his toys.
All the other kids play together,
I figured they’d invite me,
Every kid deserves as much as joy.
And every time I feel like,
‘Maybe I’ve grown’,
Life likes to remind me of humility and death,
God’s envoys.
My Mum’s love,
The prize treasured most by ‘that boy’.
Could’ve lost my mum,
The gun takes,
Leave me no choice.
Somebody else can choose,
To take my life,
And destroy.
I’m once again reminded,
On my passing days,
My mum might not hear my parting voice.
The job is done
Bruises and broken bones
He will live to see another day
"Just end him already" chants the crowd
F*cking psychopaths
Poor guy got what he deserved
Lucky him I made up my mind already
How sick you have got to be
To yell like that for a blood bath
He made his mistakes like everyone else
And yet, people act like judges
His kite really got struck by a sudden gust
A bulge on the side of his hip caught my eye
It was his perfectly polished and cocked back pistol
Unfortunately for him, his string was fragile
His Beretta had a glare
Shiny enough to change my mind...
Before a misty morning mirror
above a half-filled basin
such cold water was I braving
simply to lave my face in
but the coldest cut of all
and it only hurts when I smile
I severely slit myself while
I was busy shaving
but did my frozen fingers fumble
or was it just a rusty razor
which sorely needs replacement
that figured in my defacement
as there were many a slip
'twixt blade and lip
The shy sky sends rumours of a dustfall,
More murmurs of the impending clouds’ brawl.
The least swirls of dust unleashed ceased the light,
It roars for hours from town center with fright,
Staining gowns brown and making dirts dusty.
The morons, like iron, became rusty.
“Such simple things in life
can make it full and rife.”
_by Poet
The rusty gate was somehow left ajar;
behind, there lay a field of golden wheat.
Beside it, a dirt road- and not too far,
a log-house jewel made the scene complete.
I tiptoed close and heard her mutter sweet;
in shadow, girl with kitten caught my eye-
there rocking him to her soft lullaby.
Rusty Pipes
Miracle Man 1/1/2025
He feared rusty pipes
so my friend drunk no water,
only alcohol!
Rusty Finds A Home!
Rust-hued kitty’s shunned by day, ignored through the night
Unloved and discarded in a world numb to his plight
As he meows by a door
Rusty meets family Tor
Who give him a home, protection and love glowing bright
—Robert Gorelick
Who could resist a kitty like Rusty
Who is lonely, scared and very dusty
Needing a safe home
Of his very own
And someone to adore him who’s trusty
—Beryl Edmunds
In the hush of twilight’s gentle embrace,
A locket swings, a whisper of grace.
Its surface tarnished, like memories confined,
Yet within its heart lies love intertwined.
Muscadine wine spills dreams on the floor,
Sweet as our laughter from days long before.
With every sip, I taste summer’s glow,
The warmth of your presence in each mellow flow.
Your fingers once traced the locket's old seam,
While shadows danced softly in the light of our dream.
We spoke in hushed tones that only we knew,
As secrets unraveled beneath skies so blue.
Oh, how time has weathered both silver and gold,
Yet treasures remain in stories retold.
Each clink of our glasses sings songs from the past—
Moments like fireflies that flicker and last.
The rust may adorn it with tales of despair,
But love finds a way to breathe life into air.
For what is this trinket but proof we have soared?
Through storms and through silence—our spirits restored.
So let us raise glasses filled with sweet wine,
To a rusty old locket and love so divine;
For though seasons may change and years intertwine,
In the heart's quiet chambers forever you shine.
Nights that smell of dew,
days that smell of fresh grass,
flowers that bloom to be seen for a short time,
leaving their fragrance in the air for us to feel that unforgettable instant.
Slippery days missed somewhere in the past.
Rusty swings forgotten in my backyard that bring back my childhood memories.
Columpios Oxidados.(Spanish)
Noches que huelen a rocío,
días que huelen a hierba fresca,
flores que florecen para ser vistas por poco tiempo,
dejando su fragancia en el aire para que sintamos ese instante inolvidable.
Días resbaladizos perdidos en algún lugar del pasado.
Columpios oxidados olvidados en mi patio trasero que me traen recuerdos de mi infancia.
Written: December 09, 2023
____________________________________
solitary slope whispers below
by the vernacular aphonic
with a fierce wind and unbiased rock
bucolic vibe is ponderous
It's chameleon patois
In schizoid iridescence and fluffy sky
I decipher everything
while trudging uphill as blind
Into the mouth of irrational tempest
no reason to stay here
as haze covers the sky
crows excel at tracing the white trail.
.
my visage heats
unto mine embarrass
why me
she raised two digits
and in sink with her
lips
blew me the salacious kiss
winked
removed my pint
guiding mine
to the
exit sign
*)
It's rusty, old, holed.
Trustingly, it dug many
holes in my past,
to bury reminiscent reminders.
" (Two roads) diverged in a yellow wood and I choose the the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference. "
Quote by - Robert Frost
Two roads that forked under the fallen lumpy leaves,
one roused the nosy nerves under my soaring sleeves.
I chose the one that was bumpy, right where I stood.
The road was gusty, it was time for yellow wood.
I could not walk on both with the same feet at once.
I just chose one, gave the other a gutsy glance.
On the tawny trail where no step could clear the track,
I took my bold steps without pledge of coming back.
Walking under its shade was such a long-time dream.
The wind carried the voice within my muffled scream.
The road that's not taken was full of promises:
At the end of my steps were golds and red roses.
Long, I have dared the time to paint my rightful claim.
If I cowered, I'd surely give myself a blame.
I raised my banner on the hill, I stood upon.
Daring the rusty road made me a better man.
2nd place
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