Solstice in a Velvet Hush
Written September 10, 2026 for Your Personal Poetry Wheel Challenge
Challenge Dates: September 7, 2026 - September 12, 2026.
Verified by HMS.COM / 8 - 8 - 5 - 5 - 8
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Relationships bloom in the hush,
Where solstice stomps its purple flush.
No anger, no storm,
Just calmness in form,
A feather of love in the crush.
Written September 10, 2026 for Your Personal Poetry Wheel Challenge
Challenge Dates: September 7, 2026 - September 12, 2026.
Verified by HMS.COM / 8 - 8 - 5 - 5 - 8
***************
Relationships bloom in the hush,
Where solstice stomps its purple flush.
No anger, no storm,
Just calmness in form,
A feather of love in the crush.
I won’t forget you
I swear
The first thing they say when we leave this earth
As we feel the stomps of their footsteps
Leave the side of our grave
Echoes of cries that soon fade away
Laying alone in darkness
A void
Nothingness
Waiting to be judged
The memories
The times
The joy
Start to flash before our eyes as we try to control them
They sleep and remember our passing
But soon smile along the line
For their lives are still to be lived
Being in the grave is being forgotten
Being dead is being history
To just feel like a past memory
Death takes our existence socially
Death degrades us
And makes us nobody
Thy begin to go back on their word
Forgetting us
Our passing
Our existence
Our memories
As we still lay there
Dark, empty, void
Death makes us history
Death makes us forgotten
His name is spoken, heard and seen
As part of every goddamn scene
Sweet be a cap on every bottle
It all goes on, without a throttle
A new banknote? Oh, there he is
The Arc of Trump? Well, soon be his
The Center for Performing Arts?
Rename attempt, sans playing parts
Half of White House's gone for good
Big void where once the building stood
Leave stains, not marks, is way to go
Our pride’s absorbing every blow
A golden phone, "Made in US"
Except it's not and what a mess
Cashed in our loyalty like a chip
When crypto fails, abandon ship!
He yells and screams and stomps his feet
So, heads of states are rife with grief
Hey, "pay attention to this matter"
Or chance become a worthless splatter
It's one step forward, two steps back
"Go make a deal or we attack"
The weak and meek don't win no war
Phone calls end war, he’ll stop few more
Vane jester of his own court
Amusing pledges, then abort
It hurts to watch, foresee effect
Entire world's pain in the neck
Forgiving History wouldn't be
No lion shall behave like flea
With vanity's his love affair
Except in bath, it's good nowhere
May 30, 2026
She speaks her own mind, stomps her own feet
It’s her own life, living to her very own beat
She sees through all of your lies and deceits
There’s nothing on her . . .
Jumping in and out of all of your minds
She’s met the lot, it takes all kinds
Recognizing all those dodgy signs
There’s nothing on her . . .
Dancing with all those snakes in the grass
Faking their lives, they have no morals, or class
Their dirty tricks collected in their pocketful’s amass
There’s nothing on her . . .
They all want what she’s got, and that’s the lot
Yeah, she remembers you, she forgets you not
She’s forever having to dodge their latest shot
There’s nothing on her . . .
Behind her back they all call her names
Try to mess with her head with all of their games
But hey, it’s her writes that puts them all to shame's
There’s nothing on her
There’s nothing on her
Yeah
There’s nothing on her . . .
I get three shots
on an afterlife
when I come back
as a living thing,
I've decided,
but only if this world
gets better
and not worse.
I choose an assortment.
I choose mythical
and nonmythical.
First, I'll be a Marahute
and save those who save me,
or an albatross who sails
the sky with unfathomable care.
Second time around,
I will be a Secretary Bird.
She stomps around
like it's no one's business,
and she tramples over dinner
al dente.
Third time and last chance,
I will obviously be a mermaid
with everything perfectly proportioned
and enhanced, just for me.
I will choose to be
the most beautiful mythical creature
of my imagination.
I will see
everything
under the sea.
That is where
everything
shuts up.
I will only have my eyes
and an appreciative heart,
and amazingly long
rainbow hair.
The fish will
appreciate me.
Otherwise,
they will just keep swimming.
Either way,
I will have the sky, the land,
and the sea.
The sting
Will never
Completely go away
But I smile
At the thought
Of your happiness
I hope
You kiss
her forehead
With a whispered “I love you”
Before her alarm
Stomps across the hardwood floor
I hope you
Leave a cute note for her
On the fridge
With the silly nickname
She gave you
When you first met
I hope
You
Surprise her
When that time comes
And you end up
With blue paint all over your clothes
And she cries
Standing in the doorway
As she sees her old crib in the corner
Feeling
This burst of happiness
She has never known before
Staring at the ceiling every night
Toying with the idea
Of you and forever
Falling into
The seamless
Blend of routines
Like
It was
Just meant to click
When she
Used to dramatically vocalize
How trivial love was
How unnerving
The sound
of heartbreak was
But I hope
She indulges in the knowing
Her heart is safe with you
They took the last paintbrush with nothing in mind.
Just the canvas and who else stomps in.
I have a lot of leftover blooms.
Just trampled on like they do.
The forest is when.
I have another paintbrush in mind.
And evaporate.
The last thing they would trample on.
Deflated for the last time.
I have a band aid.
Just the canvas and.
Got mangled.
I like it when.
The forest is a bank account.
Just leaves pressed against the graves.
They took it.
Trampled on.
Like leftovers.
For no reason.
Has a lot of holes.
The last paintbrush they took.
Got trampled on, mangled, evaporated.
Just like when.
The leftovers.
the boaster has been bragging about his game expertise
the object is to throw the ball against the red buzzer
If the buzzer goes off, bam….
the volunteer clown falls into the water tank.
He has three chances
He boasts and brags every time
Three misses
His wife is next
He gives her some expertise tips
She lets one fly
The buzzer sounds
Down goes the clown into the water
The boaster stomps off
There is enthusiastic cheering and clapping for his wife
Ariana shrugged facing Josh’s mocking clap
the stringy harmonica rang acrobatically on the streetlights.
He handed her a firebomb,
eyes sharp as vinegar.
They ran across the hot asphalt,
watching the brass kite rise.
Both caught in the whirlpool of the maze,
they guided the trumpet,
mandolin filling the air, sinking into the smokehouse.
Her jacket flared, body pitching like a haystack, cracked like an explosion.
Cigar smoke swindled
trembling hands at the phone’s text crime. Tightened waist, ribs vacant
Her throat rasped open,
gasping. Stomps flew, trumpets lit,
feathers popped, and breath spilled like bone in the dusk.
Ariana shrugged facing Josh’s mocking clap
the stringy harmonica rang acrobatically on the streetlights.
He handed her a firebomb,
eyes sharp as vinegar.
They ran across the hot asphalt,
watching the brass kite rise.
Both caught in the whirlpool of the maze,
they guided the trumpet,
mandolin filling the air, sinking into the smokehouse.
Her jacket flared, body pitching like a haystack, cracked like an explosion.
Cigar smoke swindled
trembling hands at the phone’s text crime. Tightened waist, ribs vacant
Her throat rasped open,
gasping. Stomps flew, trumpets lit,
feathers popped, and breath spilled like bone in the dusk.
do you think it’s funny
hilarious, haha, a joke
how a billionaire’s money
is enough to make him an expert
on how to put his hands
around your throat
until you choke
how your taxes should be spent
and who should be sent away
to another place
to disappear without a trace
sold into slavery
or worse
to another time
when people were schooled
that rich white men ruled and
everyone else was
easily fooled
where women stayed
in the kitchen all day
preferably naked
and always ready to play
nobody was welcome
unless they could pay
their five million dollar
fee to stay
does it make you giggle
when our president
rants and raves
stomps his feet
and holds his breath
until his face
turns orange
says that only he
knows what’s best
for the billionaires
because quite frankly
no one cares about
all the rest
everyone must bow down
lay down
stay down
or get put down
orange marmalade
like fentanyl laced Gatorade
breaks the spirit
numbs the mind
until you find
you’re on the floor
too weak to
care anymore
Wind-moles have tunneled
through the daffodil rings,
stems are uprooted or fractured,
Yellow bells and trumpets
fly in a tumbling sky.
The third month is a despoiler,
it scatters and stomps fiercely
upon the newly arrived.
Roofs are launched
to flap away on broken wings.
Yet the strong survive
until the lion yawns
temporarily bored with its play.
Like any cat, it yawns
and sleeps
while the sky washes it face.
If the new risen shoots persist,
if the tender buds
escape all runaway winds
if our lives can be nailed down,
only then
will the lion of March at last
lay down with its lambs,
but only to guard them
from its own rage and hungers.
The poet speaks of madness--madness similar
to what? What was spoken before this silly syllabus?
Each ant, lifting and carrying, adds bundles of dried
and curled rose petals to the soup simmerings.
Now, each ant stomps rose petals into a silken
gown, as if one could insult a shimmering insect.
The poet further sings of madness, high pitched at
times, then sliding an octave lower for suspense.
The ants love to nap on rose petals, dreaming of
rose scents which they store in their sinuses.
Rose petal soup simmers in ant kitchens calming
ant parents and poets--driving ant babies senseless.
The madcap poet imagines herself simmering,
relaxing in a fragrant kitchen full of ants.
With falls last remnants dangling- winter touches
Scarecrows and masked children say "So long" for now
First flakes of white make the snow globe come to life
Sleigh-riders sit tight
The evergreens sparkling their pines from the moon
On the lake the ice-fishers trout takes the bait
Mountaintops of snow like icing on cupcakes
Firepits in flame
Leafless trees of empty bird and squirrel nests
Foot stomps from bucks while they're chasing does in heat
White rabbits run- the coyote on the prowl
Broke branches crackle
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