Caring woman, poetess, author, friend;
Always there with kindness until the end.
Resident first-rate of the Sunshine State
Ocean knowledge and love – part of your fate.
Lovely poems, contests brightened our days;
Your novel also enlightened our ways.
Now your legacy has captured our gaze.
Deep water boating and fishing your realm,
Each passenger safe with you at the helm.
Visions of Devonshire - poems galore,
On friends, nature, animals, war, and more!
Not one to shrink from helping those in need;
Saw contests on ‘Soup’ as a way to lead.
Heavy at times were the burdens you faced;
Inspiring poets with pieces you graced.
Rare, loving person whose years were too few;
Each day, dear sweet Carolyn – we miss you!
he was an ironist
hardened with pitiless cruelty and crudeness
she is a sculptress
shapeless assuming his spite
you will never shrink from this breakthrough
put your enthusiasm into that schedule
sanitise the musculus
decode her ordination
to squarely vex their corruptness
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 1–5, 2026)
Keeping poise in fortune,
Set my heart on entering the fray;
Making courage, control and persistence
My weapon to conquer the affray.
Never will I shrink from obstacles,
Even when they seem like profanity;
The divine light of aspiration endures,
Even the darkest kindle into luminosity.
When thorns filled my path,
Or the vast sea spread its gown,
Even the sun's relentless blaze
Seemed as if heaven had come down.
With The Himalayas as my guide,
I vowed never to retreat;
Making valor, might and endeavour
My weapon to conquer the freight.
They see the scars and turn around,
and fear the winter in my chest.
The moment that my ghosts make sound,
they flee like all the rest.
But this is me - the blood and scar;
the quiet panic and midnight cry.
You can not love my brightest star
without the blackness of my sky.
So come and sit beside my open grave -
the griefs you have to dig to find.
I do not need one who can save;
just one who can love my mind.
Step past the signs upon the wall,
press your palm against what is dead;
If you love me, you would love me all,
and flirt with the demons in my head.
Seduce the wolves that hide my war,
and kiss the acid from my biting tongue.
If you should shrink from what's in my core,
then leave while our love is young.
Take the match and strike my bone,
and marry the ghosts that haunt the floor.
Love me until my madness is shown -
and still choose to love me more.
Let them call it rage
when I bare my teeth in silence
or scream without needing permission.
Let them say I’m bitter, bruised,
too much, too loud,
a wildfire when they wanted a breeze.
They named my fury “ugly”
because it cracked the porcelain of their comfort,
because it didn’t ask
to sit quietly in a corner,
because it came dressed in all the wrong colors,
red like blood, not pink like politeness.
Let them shrink from me.
Let them whisper when I pass
that I’ve changed, that I’m colder now,
that I carry myself like a knife.
They never asked why I had to sharpen myself
just to walk safely through the day.
Let them call it rage
when I say no without a smile,
when I stop explaining the hurt
just to make them feel better.
This isn’t a tantrum.
It’s reclamation.
It’s the sound of centuries unraveling
from my throat,
one scream at a time.
Let them tremble at the truth I carry.
Let them stare at the flames I became.
I was never soft enough for their comfort,
only silent enough for their control.
But silence didn’t save me.
It never does.
So now,
I roar.
ocean waves drift in
wildflowers bend in soft winds—
with gentle curves
soothing calm natural minds
without demands or burdens
curves of rivers' arcs
fractals etched in snowflake veins
caress weary eyes
while urban straight lines shatter—
reflection splinters apart
concrete towers thrust
the geometry of squares
clawing at the sky
every sharp angle pierces—
minds that shrink from the hardness
billboards blast their glare
sirens rip through noisy streets
ravaging the ear
urban harshness stunts the soul—
as chaos frays attention
forest silence hums
its calming hymn without words
restoring the peace
of treasure trove memories
stored away in its clearings
dawn's blush dusk's ember
are halos in sky above—
colorful milieus
that frames the day in colors
soft cuddly and welcoming
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return" ~ from the song Nature Boy, written by George McGrew, aka eden ahbez, and recorded by Nat King Cole and others
A child born, unloved, in the winter cold
might like a river, from affection, run;
but like brittle bones when they get old,
when colder still, might freeze, shrink from the sun.
Afraid that warmth might make him break and crack,
this sad, and lonely fragile entity,
may view love as a frightening attack,
and a threat to his timid identity.
To quote, "the greatest thing you'll ever learn
is just to love and be loved in return".
I've cried enough tears till my eyes could weep no more.
Pain, a mere consequence of love—
felt sometimes when it's here, other times when it's gone.
Given at times, taken at others.
To heal, we must learn to forgive ourselves,
to endure rather than run,
to grow even in the harshest conditions.
What is life without the will to strive,
to serve and, when it's our turn, to receive?
Life is but a pendulum,
swinging ceaselessly, offering both joy and sorrow.
So we learn Amor Fati, embracing what comes,
and Memento Mori, remembering what must end.
To live as we are willed,
manifesting the glory and grace of God.
How can we fulfill God's will if we refuse to shine?
Whom do we serve when we shrink from our light?
What benefit is there to those we love,
if we dim ourselves for fear of shining too bright?
To love is to teach.
a tear in each eye
surviving the bad hair days
my tumor and I
both shrink from radiation
the treatments tear us apart
contrast for the word "tear"
An interesting form indeed:
this one’s the Shrinking Verse.
The more you let your ink pen bleed,
the more, stanzas get terse.
The opposite, I must concede,
for sure, would be much worse.
I can’t draw forth the words I need,
an older poet’s curse.
From eight to six to four to two,
so goes the stanza’s count.
Like run-off rain will often do,
a trickle from a fount,
and when you’ve pared to pairs, you’re through:
time for the big dismount.
The rhyming pattern does repeat;
’Tis just an ‘a’ and ‘b’.
The ‘a’ line always has four feet;
The ‘b’ line, only three.
In truth, it’s not that much to ask,
so I will not shrink from the task.
----------
The Shrinking Verse has a decreasing number of lines per stanza, typically 8/6/4/2, but you could start at 12 or 10 as well.
The rhyme pattern, 8a:6b, repeats as many times as is needed for the stanza.
The exception is that the final couplet is 8a:8a
~ Sing to the melody of 'My Way' ~
For what is a man, what has he got?
If not Ukraine, what has he wrought?
If he's not himself, then he has naught
To shrink from war, with cowardice fraught
To say the things he truly feels
To lie and lie, 'til lies are real
And not the words of one who kneels
To undercut freshly inked deals
The record shows
As bombs explode
~ I did it my way...
--From Vladimir P., desperately looking for love
the sun struggles
to get out of bed
on dismal gray days
we shrink from each other
lower our heads
ALONE IN WORDS
I cower from the rumbling squall of loneliness
and shrink from the shards of misdirected words.
The mantle of hope escapes my ambitions, forever silencing my courage.
I am drowning in discontent.
From Brainstorm 10/16/2018
For Divisa 4 Poetry Contest
02/25/2021
Laugh and the world will laugh with you,
Smile and the people around you will smile too,
Weep and you weep alone,
For the sad old people who borrow from this earth,
They give an expression of mirth,
But have trouble enough of their own.
Sing and the hills will answer,
Sigh as you get lost in the air,
Echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voices that care.
Rejoice and they will seek you,
Grieve and they turn and go.
All they want is a full measure,
And to be grateful to share your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad your friends are many,
Be sad or you lose them all;
If you need to decline, try not to choose any.
The halls are crowded,
Fast and the world goes by.
Succeed and give,
It helps you live,
No man deserves to die;
There in his room deprived of pleasure
Hearing a large and lordly train,
One by one we are put on file
Through agony of suffering pain.
a cold wind mocks a feeble sun
leaves shrink from its touch
squirrels shiver in mink tails
birds fluff down feathered coats
a lone hawk skis the clouds
a school bus inhales shivering children
a dog paws the frozen ground
the cat smiles from its litter box
John G. Lawless
©11/13/2019
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Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.