Upon the loam where ancient shadows creep,
a severed vein now yields its vital breath,
and writhes upon the floor in torments deep,
consumed within the iron jaws of death.
No gentle breeze attends its rapid fall,
nor sunlit grace to soothe the tearing pain;
It strikes the rotting moss and scarlet wall,
drenched in the fury of a weeping drain.
Yet watch the fiber twitch, the pulsing spine,
as blind-eyed beetles strip the tender skin,
and carve away the green with teeth malign,
to feast upon the fever locked within.
The forest laughs while slowly torn apart,
and grinds the winter's refuse in its heart.
The heavy clouds of gray begin to loom;
to hide the fading sunlight from mine eyes.
The garden we once planted loses bloom;
as bitter winds bear off our hollow sighs.
The gentle petals tear away from stems;
and scatter through the chill of winter's air,
They used to shine like brilliant crimson gems;
when thou didst hold me close and call me fair.
A sudden gust of wind begins to blow;
sweeping away love and warmth now closes.
My weeping eyes reflect the afterglow;
caught within this painful storm of roses.
Yet though our fragile bonds are rent apart.
Thy ghost shall dwell forever in my heart.
Within this ossuary of our breath,
Where time devours the very vows we swore.
I seek a love that triumphs over death,
and haunts the shadows of the evermore.
The sun is but a dying ember’s glare,
as midnight creeps to claim our fleeting light.
The heavy scent of sorrow fills the air,
And pulls us down into the hollow night.
Yet, let the worms consume this fragile shell,
And let the heavens turn to bitter stone,
If in the furnace where our spirits dwell,
I need not face the blackened void alone.
Though all the stars to dusty silence part,
I pray my love, to hold me in your heart.
When first the dawn doth kiss the waking skies,
Its blush untainted by the world’s design,
An innocence, in newborn hearts, shall rise,
A gentle force, unseen by mortal sign.
No cunning art nor gilded tongue can sway
The quiet strength that purity imparts;
It shields the soul, and turns the night to day,
Restoring hope to long-embattled hearts.
For though harsh tempests rage and shadows fall,
Unspotted virtue stands with tranquil grace;
Her light, unyielding, beckons through them all,
A steadfast star in time’s relentless race.
O innocence, thy power none can bind—
Thy simple truth redeems the fallen mind.
Upon the steamy broth of words we feed,
A spoon of sonnet’s spice, a pinch of rhyme.
Each simmered thought, a poet’s secret seed,
Stirred gently through patient hands of time.
The flavors mix—metaphor, verse, and sound—
In bubbling cauldrons, meaning softly sways.
Within the bowl, lost syllables are found,
And every line a seasoning conveys.
How savory the blend of joy and pain,
When seasoned hearts compose the lyric stew.
From humble roots, a feast of art we gain,
Where every taste and tone is rendered true.
So gather 'round this meal of crafty strains,
Poetry soup forever feeds our brains.
Poetic Spice Poetry Contest
1/28/2026
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Upon this eve, thy table seeks delight,
A golden disc, from Naples’ fiery womb.
Let mozzarella’s lace in creamy white
Crown crimson sauce from vine’s midsummer bloom.
Tomato pureed, seasoned with loving hands,
Basil, like emeralds strewn ‘cross the round,
A drizzle olive oil from sunlit lands,
And dough, once tossed, now baked to crisp and sound.
Rejoice! Thy order, numbered fifty-three,
Two slices taken, with a gentle smile.
The cost: ten coins and ninety cents to thee,
Paid to the chef within oven’s trial.
So keep this verse, thine invoice writ in rhyme,
For pizza’s pleasure, timeless and sublime.
When biting winds assail the barren plain,
And icy tempests howl through leafless trees,
The earth is shackled by cold winter’s reign,
Its frozen grip refuses warmth or ease.
The pallid sun doth trek a shortened sky,
And pale as ghosts, the meadows lost their hue;
Sharp frost adorns each branch where blossoms die,
While silent fields are veiled in silver blue.
Yet in this cruel and furious hour,
A beauty lurks within the storm’s embrace;
The crystal world gleams with secret power,
And stillness settles over every place.
So though fierce winter’s wrath may seem unkind,
Its icy art leaves wonder in our mind.
In these sacred halls where prayers weave through the air,
As we kneeled before him, our sins confessed,
Seeking mercy and grace, for the burdens we bear,
The faithful souls kneel devoutly with their hearts pressed.
As the candles glow, the penitent confesses,
Their sins laid bare, weighed by the savior's care,
As the divine sanctuary aligns,
The halls where prayers intertwine.
As these devoted Christians sang,
The praise of hymns blend,
Their voices, a sacred offering,
For him, our eternal friend.
As the faithful prayers take flight,
Towards the heavenly night
When you sung songs of naïve seventeen
No chord was struck, nor one thought rewritten
For love so young, surely, it was extreme
And left small hearts yet deceived and broken
For hope of love shrouded in the naïve—
No thought, I had, of such hope striking me
Yet now, I feel, if I dare to believe
That hope like such can sweet and thrilling be.
Hope, so dumb, how dare it be so honeyed?
For though it scares me, hearts that pound too fast,
Perhaps I can learn to enjoy that speed?
I know these foolish heart beats may not last
As dazzling sheen lasts not on jewelry—
Though, what will last longer than poetry?
Simple question was asked but they fumble;
What are you going to do with your life?
Most of them babble, to speak they struggle;
Appears they don't know how to handle strife.
Don't have idea for their future day
lost their direction that shows confusion.
Answer to question is simple if they
apply their minds, there can't be illusion.
It's to find what makes them happy, see what
interests them most, what helps them to let
their creativity flourish; Don't shut
once known, go ahead, take next step, heart set.
But, don't be afraid to believe self, trust
it'll bring happiness; in HIM now entrust.
Behold the king called Ganondorf, who reigns
Supreme, destroying people’s sorry lives.
Behold his sword, who’s damage is insane
Who’s blade is sharper than a hundred knives.
A hero sworn to have revenge on those
Who wronged us in the past with great disgrace.
To any people that would dare oppose,
Shall blow away like dust without a trace.
His wrath is like a great calamity
The so called “chosen one” shall quite soon find
That to resist, he’s lost insanity.
The fiendish King of Hyrule shall resign
And bow before his newfound substitute.
Our leader Ganondorf is absolute.
Halloween Sonnet
It's Halloween, that spooky time of year,
when scary monsters prowl the streets at night,
those freaky ghouls make me shiver with fear,
in costumes that give me a dreadful fright!
Pumpkin lanterns cast a dire, eerie glow
as eager children arrive at my door;
Candy offerings on them, I bestow,
while their excited eyes say, 'Give me more!'
Sometimes older ones take it much too far,
playing mean tricks when they don't get a treat.
I'll find eggs splattered on my house and car,
and hear bad language I dare not repeat!
Children celebrate on this festive day
and dress as specters who've come out to play!
checked with how many syllables
Shakespearean Sonnet (with Prizes) Contest
Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire
Ring size 7 I think
favorite color for gems Green or Purple
10/14/18
SHAKESPEAREAN SONNET
PRINCIPLES OF LIFE
Mental strength holds life, never goes useless.
One truth is more powerful than ten lies.
Failure is always pillar of success.
One religion: Humanity flies.
Don’t get frightened, neither gloomy nor grave.
Right is the path, so long you are honest.
Entrance of victory opens for the brave.
Your will power is prompt to serve you best.
Take care of yourself, lend hands to needy.
Work with devotion nothing to bother.
Labor will be honored, don’t be greedy.
We are for ourselves, each is for other.
Soul will guide you and heart is the preacher.
Mind should be clean and brain is your teacher.
07/20/18
'Your Finest Sonnet' Contest by Mark Massey
The sun in splendid majesty departs
To drape his train across the evening sky,
Mere candlelight next to the vivid spark
Struck from one glance from thy once azure eyes.
Both man and nature music doth compose
On instrument of orchestra and trees,
But all of heavens hymns I might transpose
And never match was tender speech from thee.
Such beauteous things to worship and to love
Once lived about the temple of thy grace,
Thy body was the substance of my dreams
Where'er thou wert was made a lovely place
So once a garden in a garden stood
Til time and season stole its bright lifeblood..
The sheen of gold excites, delights the eye.
All other metals pale beside its glow.
A perfect carriage holding stone to buy
or many precious jewels placed in row.
Can be coin buying prize, heart's great desire,
or symbol backing country's specie seen.
The power used employing maid for hire,
perhaps now tithe to aid some homeless teen.
The places we do find this golden ore
are mines and streams, rock faces showing veins.
For mining, cave demands drill deep and shore
and panning streams men see the shining grains.
Now gold can be in real convenient state.
Possessing same it seems is simply great.
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