plodding footsteps respect no rhythm
life’s forward tilt, a sneer
what passes for ho or hum
sucks the vigor from its beer
but complaints wear out
a million frowns
and peeves are hope upside down
So, on they trudge, footsteps plodding
scuff life's wedding gown
dry brush
slow rush
scuff mark
toss spark
grind slow
warm glow
sand grit
fire lit
drag hard
floor scarred
stopped wheel
burnt steel
fast wear
thick air
rough rub
heat hub
still life
hot strife
high strain
dull pain
They found you in the dust behind the barns
A skittish spark with lightning in your legs
A diamond in the rough with uncut charm
All promise
All heartbeat
All raw edges
You burst onto the track like dawn breaking
Crowds rising as your hooves carved out a future
Every stride a prophecy every win a rumor
That greatness had been hiding in plain sight
Seasons wear on even the brightest stones
Your shine dulled not from lack but from living
From so many winning miles run hard
Expectations stacked like saddles on your back
Some whispered you’d lost your glimmer
That the sparkle they once saw slipped away
But diamonds don’t vanish they change
They carry their history in every facet
Every scuff a story every flaw a truth
And you Diamond Scuffle…
Still catch the light in your own way
Not the blinding flash of a rising star
The steady gleam of something that’s endured
You may not blaze like you once did
But you still shine
With the weight of everything you’ve been
A diamond still…
Just one that’s learned what brilliance costs
Contest 2026 - 04 - 02 While Beautiful Tarzarma Sponsor Constance La France
A Therianthrope’s Harsh Winter
Snowflakes sunk into my soft fur
I purred as my fur began to puff
the puff wetting my once so soft fur.
I fluttered as my fur began to puff.
During the Nightengale, when its cold,
When my head is filled in the slough
tarnished in scuff making me less bold.
My lips shuddered in the freezing snow,
flakes flowed and i decided to bring my body to a fold
from hind legs to long legs nestled in snow
wallow in the warmth, losing my wool
soft skin leaving me in a soft glow
I run against the snow and its cool
running back to my home and no longer being a fool
drugged winter fighting against the null
A Therianthrope’s Harsh Winter (Alternative Ending)
Snowflakes sunk into my soft fur
I purred as my fur began to puff
the puff wetting my once so soft fur.
I fluttered as my fur began to puff.
During the Nightengale, when its cold,
When my head is filled in the slough
tarnished in scuff making me less bold.
My lips shuddered in the freezing snow,
flakes flowed and i decided to bring my body to a fold
from hind legs to long legs nestled in snow
wallow in the warmth, losing my wool
soft skin leaving me in a soft glow
I run against the snow and its cool
running back to my home and no longer being a fool
lose mind in the scuff that is underfoot
trust soot can be outrun
in dreams' cascade, burdens shun -
the art of wild abandon
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The canals wear mirrors today,
polished by bicycle tires
and the scuff of slow-moving clouds.
A houseboat tilts slightly left,
its geraniums nodding
‘welcome to Amsterdam’
Someone’s lost hat floats
down the canal
like a disobedient thought
between two bridges.
P.S. The coffee here
tastes like rain
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aisle-strayed, the spine-scuff welcomes:
this scent, pine pulp and glue ghosts,
settles dust-flurried lungs.
Fingers graze jackets—crackled vellum,
fresh gloss bleeding promise.
Shelves stand like weathered priests
holding confessionals of ink.
One flayed paperback, dog-eared
at page sixty-three's small triumph—
proof someone else needed saving.
Here, grief grows papercuts;
hope wears library stamps.
Every warped cover a hatch
lifting into borrowed light.
Serge de Nîmes
a tough, rough twill for workwear
made blue to fade and scuff—
to weather as souls are bared
a second skin
unpretentious, in fashion
yet rebellious and rough—
mocking the myth of clothing
Wonder why dearly creatives are really gruff
Ponder artists fright...why they're in a right huff
As if their plight wasn’t nearly hard enough
Now AI picks alright clearly nicks natives stuff
Copyright blight.. tight AI guys fight with trite guff
Won’t share …it’s unfair…don’t care..life’s tough
Your ”off the cuff”.. they lazily buff.. crazily turn to fluff
Like a stranger getting your lover or wife up the duff
Red hot bot rot danger is rife but still they will just bluff
Strife..this lot don’t give a jot ..another blot we must rebuff
Muster the puff to bust their bluster..off they trot..play rough
Stand tall..together they’ll fall..grab by their neck’s scruff
As sagacity…loquacity.. bodacity & veracity techs nab & snuff
Authentic becomes drab identikit wrecks..cultures these vultures scuff
These AI fingers lingers in everyone else’s pies…Nuff is a Nuff
Yep and I can hear in my ear.. dear old.. Brian Clough chuff
“That’s Bloody rubbish”
AI guys lies..snaffling then raffling is baffling…but surprise surprise in the buff…it’s total shruff!
Under a smother of dark clouds
a city skyline sinks,
there will be no starshine
the lights of a million windows
must drain and replace another blanked out evening.
The eyes of stray cats fire up,
it is time now for noise to hunt silence down,
for the garish to consume the subdued.
Shoes, new and old, scuff grime
into renovated store fronts, where shadows
cling to the detached hissing
of neon signs.
It will be dawn when the shoes bleed,
when the stars return to briefly gutter.
There are rodent tracks that arrow
between gray blocks of masonry
where nocturnal crimes crumble
into obscurity.
The metro subway is empty yet full of ghosts,
but just for a moment,
only a moment.
Just Like an Old Shoe
I am worn and torn
from hard use.
I bear the scuff marks
of a life, lived.
I live alone, my partner
has long since disappeared.
I reside in a dark place
tossed into a corner.
I am no longer in style,
old and forgotten.
I will be discarded someday,
thrown out with the trash.
I am just like an old shoe,
good for nothing.
Your shoes by the door,
worn soles tracing paths
you used to walk -
each scuff a story,
each crease a memory,
quiet but heavy.
They sit there,
still laced with quiet defiance,
a reminder of mornings you rushed,
of late nights spent at your desk -
always just a little more to do.
The scent of your aftershave
lingers in the hallway,
waiting for you to step back in,
but all that’s left are your shoes,
empty now,
facing the door that never opens.
I remember your stories -
the ones that made us laugh,
the silences that made me listen harder.
They echo now,
soft whispers in the rooms
where you once stood.
Your shoes by the door,
waiting in quiet solitude,
never quite lost to me.
I see you in the way they sit,
as if you’re just about to walk in,
like you never left.
When sat before a blank page
I sometimes feel as lonely
as I imagine that blank page must feel
however
that blank page is also
quite stark and challenging
daunting even
it seems to be anchored there
legs apart
fisted hands lodged firmly on hips
chin tilted slightly upward
conveying the message
“C’mon I dare ya, I double dare ya!!”
looking at that blank page
I question myself
is what I’ve got
good enough to fill this page
to half fill it
to scribble on it
even a line or two
or will I just sully it
like a young boy
trampling and scuffing his way
through virgin snow
both page and snow
far, far better
if left well alone
however
like that young boy
I do trample and scuff my way
through that blank page
and view my efforts
with a more than probably
unearned sense of pride
but
and here’s the rub
like that young boy
I feel pretty good about myself
as I step back
and view my handiwork
be it good, bad or indifferent.
Seek shelter from the snow and rain;
from wind and stormy ocean waves.
Seek shelter not to be in pain;
with elements, do all that saves.
But, there's a shelter for the mind;
for it, we must become aware
of those attacks with thoughts unkind;
we must defend against their snare.
Some online sites can poison us;
entrap minds into thinking that
for love of country- should not fuss-
cause loathing it is where we're at.
Seek shelter from each misled source
with narrow values and those who
enjoy the good life- then enforce-
don't give, just take- and complain too.
And then complain that's not enough
since equity and equal spar.
Seek shelter from this mental scuff;
beneath our Flag- salute each star-
for staying safe the way we are.
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