whispering through a crescendo
I accommodate his monolingually
always spoke prim and smoothed
commercialize me .
be impeccable or simultaneously lukewarm
never to undress again
classic
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 14–20, 2026)
Scotch plaid Christmas girl made her bed the best she could
She smoothed down the covers as an astronaut would
Though she was not in the armed forces, she straightened her room
Then she took a video of it all and called a meeting on Zoom.
She showed off her plaids to the family, especially her mother
No one was as impressed as her messy, slovenly big older brother
Come to Omaha and straighten me out too, he begged his Sis.
Knowing his hoarder ways, she said she had to go to Old Miss
A
Second,
A minute,
A month, a year,
A decade - a life
Rushed through without purpose;
I'm pieces of a person
Not yet wise enough to choose what
Of the present I should hold onto.
I want to be better - i want to [be].
A century, a millenia,
A myriad - not quite aeons,
But close enough, close enough...
Everything i feel is
Smoothed away; I lay
Under the sun
And feel nothing
But my heart,
Now at
Rest.
Horror and disbelief!
Numbed by it!
As one traumatically struck by
Cruelest of what does for cold eye
Expose madness.
Primal, dark! Seen from this
Age of Spirit.
Quelled of all fear, whose peace ensures
Has been smoothed o'er such Time's features
Manic with stress.
The strong current twisted and turned,
So much so surely no man dare enter.
However newly inhabited in this devilish stream:
A school of ridged rocks tumbled by.
Among this school, rolled the most honed of them all.
As he rolled he noticed the dulling of his fellow rocks.
they tossed and turned as the river quickened their erosion,
However,
Different from the rest.
This rock was adamant on maintaining his unique edges.
Finally,
After seasons of resistance,
The school graduated to the shore.
Upon arrival the young rock looked to his mates,
To find that they had smoothed their irregularities,
And he was secluded from their congruence.
Groove
Full circle spirals
Mind's vintage vinyls
Keepsakes kept safe
For sanity's sake
The real past reels-
Hub. Spokes. Wheels.
Stuck in mind ruts.
No more ifs and buts...
Truth lies in mistakes
smoothed out...
Revolve mindset seeks
smooth roundabout
Millions of mindful notes
tied up in old wounds
unbound in chords,
smooth way out..
Sounds spoke about
Peace and Quiet untrod
in some distant parts
of anxious hearts
buried underground -
Hope imprints found
in visions of daylight,
comforts of starlight...
God knows what it's all about...
Aqua Marine. Posted:Wednesday 6th May 2026
Musing on Memories attached to a vinyl collection.
“It wasn’t me who voted them in.” He bleated, quite moronic.
“And all the lies we’re being told, I think I need a colonic.”
He looked around and gathered his thoughts, “I need to pen a missive,
To my local member, here in town, and it needs to be derisive.”
His needs lined up and in a row he smoothed the sheet for writing.
Nib to page, ink to flow, the Minister’s in for a smiting.
And as the words began to roll with sweet and honeyed menace,
The smile in his eyes began to show, he started, “My name’s Dennis.”
He listed off the promises made with a corresponding date
And coupled them with grievances to even out the slate.
He moaned and groaned and spouted steam. He really was quite grumpy.
And when he read it back again, he found his syntax lumpy.
Scrunch it up and start again, it surely must be proper.
With guilt to place and thoughts to sway, he breached a mental stopper.
And now, when Dennis wrote some more his thoughts and words were crystal.
Seven pages, neatly scrawled. What a delightful epistle.
Stealth hid in the corners of its soul
Patiently sowing its addictive seeds
Planting doubt in its many meanings
Each word a temporary assuagement
Its necessity cursed by its impermanence
And thus, the pen faltered in fledgling flight
Hesitations scribbles circling a meaning
The imposter, perfection, tapping its foot
Strewing the mind with contradictions canny
Thoughts tied to chairs refusing to confess
Neither AI or Spelchek will save you
For you do not throw snowballs you did not make
For you have scooped the words, compressed them
Rounded and smoothed them to perfection
And now….must hurl them
…at an unsuspecting world
There’s something called repetitive behavior.
There’s something called listening to a song at night.
Again, and it feels like scooping ice cream so easily.
When I don’t have the strength in real life.
And freezer burn usually hits at the worst time.
When I listen to the same song 20 times…
It becomes a gemstone that is smoothed out.
And it feels like- I’m on stilts and not fumbling this time.
It’s like taking back a speck of “trying to get them to understand.”
No grimacing.
Instead, I place a scented eye mask over my eyes.
It’s more than “Again.”
It’s me moving up in line a little bit more and cheering.
That eye mask is lavender and the song is boldly reminiscent.
There’s something called repetitive behavior.
Lives with me in the folds of my mind.
It’s more than “Again.”
It never felt like “Again.”
Just me standing on higher stilts.
Just for fun this time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dawn cracks the sky~
rust-edged wings carve silence
into salt and cry.
Hunger sharp as tide-smoothed glass,
they stalk the shivering surf.
I observe the Lord is to be praised, who
Caused the springs to spurt, and flow
Their ways' He raised all mountains He
Smoothed the plains' He stirrs the Oceons
And grades the grain.' The sand that shifts
The grass so green, and skies so blue.'
The endlessness, and closeness too.' Our
Breath' and hope; which makes us reach'
The need to search, the desire to teach
The first and foremost is, revere His Name
Love each other, there you will gain..Increase of wisdom health and more
From He who observes us 'one and all.'
Daybreak's beauty at its peek
Gentle warm breeze whispered softly through the trees
a lure to the unknown, down a winding path
sweet bouquet, wildflowers and berries
tease at the nostrils of hunger
Silence was swallowed by the force of rushing water
roaring energetically... but meditatively soothing
hypnotizing beauty, rippled carved ridges
smoothed patterns of time from ancient days
below...black jagged slate cut through a swirl of rapids
a testament of change to the stones of old
gushes of cool water slapped the walls
spitting out foamy white bubbles
racing droplets joined to form one body of strength
dropping...to a funnel below
capturing... a piece of daring driftwood
dragging it down under, it escaped bobbing free
then taken to a secret hide-a-way
a natural wonder...gratitude, beauty, demanding respect
the power of creation
all within life's perceptions
When the world moves on
and bulldozers crowd the scene
to cleanse the shattered land
with schemes of resort towers.
As the broken stone and steel
is smoothed from our sight
who will search for what is left
all those buried in their homes.
Among rags and concrete dust
rubble tombs above the dead
so small are infant’s bones
easily missed or left behind.
Many workers need the pay
unconcerned by death and war
do they stop and gag to find
a child's hand beneath their tools.
The heavy work will be done
their schedules must be kept
foundations poured, they leave
and another team flies in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
things smoothed by time's insistent hand
riverbed’s old stones understand
pebbles smoothed by ancient waves
edges soft like lost secrets
resting where water left them~
polished persistence
contemporary Persian ancient
blending intro-imagery with peach
vulnerability
identity a Khoisan outpouring on fields of Skukuza healings
whilst township dancers make their rites
to bite presence on platform sites
so will Gen Z’s make their
vibrant scratches on our rock walls
for Galactics to visit tall
courage was torn with rosemary bushes like
biltong shreds
¥
he pierced her teenage framework newly
smoothed with rosemary
galaxies watched in horror
scratched her legs with longing paws
Gen Z’s roared their rage across
the continent
she bit her presence into his poverty
townships waited in mourning
her virginity ripped
identity equals Acturian
vulnerability is paintbrush memories
seven shadowy children
are to arrive crystal
not through her uterus
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