parents
expect nothing
shower love beyond words
provide, protect, propel children
givers
siblings
fight, love, share, care
help overcome struggles
squabble for parents' attention
keepers
helpmeet
stays by your side
without whom life's lacking
heart's most compatible darling
twin flame
children
light of your life
perfectly imperfect
cute, their charm melts your defenses
God's gifts
"For every soul that finds her shores,
their breath is surely stolen" - quote by poet
I am smaller than my siblings
My brothers and sisters casting their grand shadows
I’m often more ice than water
Surrounded by land that makes me warmer
I am the peoples friend despite
The bleak conditions here from which most shy away
I’m hostile to a casual life
You have to be committed to my cause
My frozen future uncertain
Will climate change bring others to my shores?
They share my spoils, the drill of oils
Their greed, it chokes the life from deep within my womb
My bed is claimed by many hands
They squabble over treasures like pirates
Not all of me has been exposed
My secrets untapped but closets may be raided
Help me, save me from this future
Where I may be boiled, dry and arid drought
I urge you think again my friends
Change your global ways or I face the end of days
Written By: D. Collins 10/1/25
Straight outta the shower, fresh and so clean.
Making me want it so bad, I feel like a fiend.
There's nothing I'd like better or rather get.
Than a pretty, sexy body all soaking wet.
No trace of salt when slowly licking those titties.
Putting them in my mouth showing no mercy or pity.
Spank that pretty ass and watch it wiggle and wabble.
Make it tighten so hard it think its in a squabble.
That stream of water seeping off your breast.
Will be emcompassed with all the things I caress.
I prefer it pretty, sexy, juicy and wet.
Give you the monster you're trying to get.
Our suitcases are very old;
They’re heavy and they wobble.
Discussing getting new ones
Caused a wee bit of a squabble.
What size to buy? Hard shell or soft?
So many out there waiting.
To order it online or not?
We spent much time debating.
We chose one sent by Amazon,
But found it big and bulky
And having to return it
Made us both annoyed and sulky.
We sent it back and in the store,
We found the luggage section
And checked a few ‘til finally,
We made a joint selection.
The purchase made, we’ll wait and see
When we go on vacation
If what we bought was worthy of
All that consideration.
Written: August 06, 2025
*********
The traffic roars as wounded gulls.
metal beats skated over the asphalt waves,
each honk a fractured prayer,
fleeing the city, restless breath.
I sit beneath a twisted jacaranda tree.
Its lavender flowers unfurl as the sun dips low
Parrots squabble in the canopy—
boisterous, unrepentant, and singing,
stirring the dawn with their raucous cries,
a beauty entwined with longing.
Their melody exists beyond,
concrete and clocks,
I sip coffee—malnourished warmth—
Its bitter essence wedged between my ribs,
where comfort once thrived.
The chipped cup, a reflection of lost trust.
Each face that passes me
is a silent question,
I have forgotten how to answer.
Once I skated these streets
hungry for names,
for the echo of someone to cram my void,
But identity remains a fog
caught between chain-link fences
and fragrant jasmine vines.
Yet still,
I listen for that singular voice
amid the clamorous parrots,
the one that might beckon me back
into the wholeness of myself.
There is a madness inside each poet
Some try to cover it up with religious squabble and chatter
We who know laugh at their silliness
There cannot be total sanity in people
Who pour their soul onto a page
Holding their breath, waiting to see what will happen
Sometimes I think I am going to be killed for one of my poems
And no one comments on it at all
No death threats?
This is a disappointment
Which proves what I said about madness
Right?
I refuse to argue, squabble, shriek or shout
I will not hit, kick, pummel, punch or pout.
I keep my demons in, I never let them out
Unless my annoying cousin Willy is about.
Day dawns, noon deepens to eve merging in night to decay.
Cries of domestic chores, squabble of city life to arise
Nasty noises of vexing vehicles running always hasty.
Creaking of wheels, blowing horns turns law-breaking.
Kids play, make noise, shout on joy which each parent needs.
Run on days to cope with busy noisy life but have fun.
Loud you are, bold to shout as life will sound.
' Crowd yells’: Either avoid or be a part being smart and proud.
Arrogance sounds good on shouting day of nuisance.
Fight in marital clash on noisy day gets cooled on calm night.
Observe days full of noises to meet silent night with love.
Sounds of day ceaseless run knowing absolute no specific bound.
Amplitude of loud sound at last to fade out reaching street of solitude.
v-shaped fluttered wings
squabble of seagulls in flight
loud squawk echoes joy
You are a warm cup of coffee
on a cold winter day.
Darkness, an abyss, the repudiated banned;
I'd rather suffocate in your shadows
than paddle in someone else's light.
You are a misinterpreted parsnip,
and I, the farmer in the fall.
Utopia in your eyes,
my pulsing heart bears your dawn,
and your name is ingrained in my mind.
My vigour of love nor the reasons metamorphose;
Our souls are entangled,
burgeoning the yarn loved by a cat.
Love is a disease; I am the patient
lingering for it eagerly.
I treasure you against all logic,
against all the sin in the world.
I can only solve the enigma with you.
When we are apart, I miss you
like the stars miss the sun at night.
There is a prodigious world seen in your eyes.
I am jealous of the mirror that sees you daily,
envious of the cozy blanket that envelops you.
Men squabble and crucify; even if I forfeit,
I will be the phoenix rising from the ashes for you.
Crows are mobbing a hawk,
it is perched on a high branch,
striving to ignore
the sharp beaked onslaught,
yet it cannot withstand for long,
the onrushing claws and wings.
The crows work as one together,
they are relentless,
the larger raptor lifts into the air
seeking a less raucous space of sky,
for a while
the bold birds loudly chase.
Glint-eyed corvids
caw in rowdy triumph,
then, as usual,
they rattle the trees, as they
squabble and taunt each other,
just for the dark joy of it.
He was an ancient warrior from times of old
back in the days when the sun was new
and the stars at night were brilliant blue
like the Canopus star he once knew
Often, he was found rummaging the forest
looking for the rarest mushrooms
as the eagles flew he counted tree rings
indenting the roots of his ancestry wings
Then one day, he was reborn again
in an era of squabble filled with wars
silence became an oddity full of slew
and "The Sacred" a rarity hidden in full view
They tagged him "bipolar" with doctorate degree
this was a world of medicine & mental deficiency
yesterday he howled at the moon * starkly stars
today he is a sad man, longing for a trip to Mars
He, ancient warrior of days of old
fights the good battle everyday,
mistletoe on oak, he holds his staff
all the time knowing time does pass.
Written by: Mystic Rose
Dedicated to a friend, who suffers from bipolar.
Some way from the Firth of Forth
A shoal of glittering mackerel
Swirls and sways
Swells with the sea from silver to black
Flashes white and back to silver and grey
A humpback whale
Juddering its leathery jaws together
With a throatful of panicked fish
For a moment it bobs in place
Then sinks down slowly again
To await its next prey
But some fish get away
Dash, dash, dash
Gannets with wingtips a-black
In fizzing copper-green dive bomb
Pinning their wings back
Weaving, spiral bubbles rising
They spear the blank-eyed fish
And paddle away
In the tidal pools by the beach
Where the tiny sea herds crawl
Hermit crabs pick at morsels
Washed up by the tide
Snipping with their pincers
To nibble mackerel tails
They ward off competitors with their giant claws
Crabby-crawl tiny sea herds
Squabble in the pools of the micro-sea
But steal when you can the more beautiful shell
Of a crab that is greater than thee.
Do they dream of vast oceans,
of soaring sea-raised mountains
of wave upon wave of rolling
seascapes?
The little brown and white ducks
show no such inclination.
They dabble, dibble and paddle,
gently pecking at moments
meandering from here to there
on the silky grass banks
of a shallow pond.
Sometimes they squabble
over a pettiness
creating ripples of distraction.
None ponder
the infinity of space and time,
they peck at such thoughts
dismiss them before they can surface
and in a quick spray of water,
then shake them from a ruffled
feathered tail.
They nibble, they paddle,
and dabble,
while slowly circling
the reflection of a gigantic sun.
by the sea on shore
birds squawk squabble and jostle
feathered typecast kin
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