Prose of self imprisonment, in lieu to my self-risen-ment
Errected un-hourly to squark at my un-symmetry
And squander the squalor of dirtied mind
Cleansed to find the finest within the polluted rites
The squalor of impunitive squander hath dirtied the fishing rites
And awakened my soul at the fisherman's hour
T'wave thee 'Tally Ho!'
F'the dirtied mind enacted me, the foe
Now I, the fittest t'await and ponder
Shall await fished imprisonment and feed the sonder rays that dare awaken thee.
F'the dirtied mind has collected the tide,
To pollute mine own body.
my heart rises, falls like restive waves
it brings the weight of fears I cannot voice.
joy swells then slips silently away
memories lingers like salt on my skin
i follow its pull, unsure but alive
in its rhythm, I find my steady beat
I love you…
not in the noise of blossoms
screaming their radiance into spring
but in the way roots strip themselves into
world's silence, quiet, hidden
yet steadfast in every tempest
I love you…
in the silence that follows laughter
when memory brushes gentle against my chest
and I know that even years cannot erase
the warmth sent in your name.
I love you…
like the coastline greets the tide
forever restoring
even when the waters are hauled away
by the pull of far-off moons.
I love you…
not because love is endless,
but because even in endings
you are the place
I begin.
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 10 Contest //Sponsored by: Mark Toney
( 3rd Place )
Written: August 23, 2025
The sky broke open, spilling light along empty streets,
and he went under its shelter, carrying the weight of every yesterday
as if each memory could still cleave to his shoulders.
Raindrops lingered on the pathway like strewn mirrors,
catching pieces of moments thought lost:
the eyes that believed, the hands that shaped him and the whispers of care that remain long after absence.
Every step ahead shuddered with uncertainty.
But still the world teemed with quiet promise.
He spotted small wanders--
the scent of wet earth rising,
a leaf twirling in a plash,
the soft pulse of life returning after darkness.
He stumbled, he faltered,
yet each fall shaped a different rising:
a reed that bends but does not break,
a step that carries forward still,
though the horizon clings to storm.
No one walked beside him
but still he felt the world breathe softly in his steps.
The storm had passed, leaving only light;
a silent endurance entrenched in every step,
a mellow voice that urging him to continue,
even when the track is yours alone.
The untamed waters
Bridled by the dragon's pearls
In the Empress's hand
Tides recede at her command
Her foe's ships were trapped in sand
Swallowed by the seas
Then the waves flicker
Once thirteen hundred years pass
Buried tales emerge
Ships surrounded Sunc'hon's Fort
To crush an invading force
A war raged at Choson's shores
Ancient echoes din
Oceans drew back, and recalled
Old tales etched in seas
Once again, a fleet was trapped
Where wind and waves take the ground
Who can deny victory?
torrents of tears flowed
when he saw a sea dragon
beached dehydrated
for he knows that it like him
could only shed tears on land
the tears were salty
welling from bag of sea brine
in the ocean's blood
he harbored in his body
as fluid to bathe his cells
he needed to cry
but till now tears would not spill
weeping on ebb tide
to wash moribund eyes clean
and inhale with a fresh breath
he fights the current
gripping on to refusals
yet the water wins
the dragon prowls in the foam
its searing breath flares fear
one tear another
fell soft on scalded shadow
fell on dragon's eyes
sending the sand grit flying
washing the stall clean of grime
fear sinks in the tide
form of the trial changes
relief opens gate
as ocean consumes his past
dragon wings have unfolded
tears were the pivot
to beat the challenge
breaking resistance
setting sails on favored wind
on the course past the dragon
WASHED AWAY BY THE TIDE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I see the vestiges of yesterday,
echoes of mistakes,
like footprints in the sand,
that the time of time washed away.
Every mistake,
is like a grain of sand on the beach,
a sandcastle of errors,
mistakes that the tide of time washes away.
the wind of self-forgiveness
pulls me up, propelling me
beyond the limits
of mistakes I made yesterday.
I hear the wind, realizing…
the sky does not stop the dawn
for the clouds that came in.
nor does the river mourn
the stones that once obstructed its flow.
the beautiful truth—
*There is so much more to me
than my faults.
I am the promise
of who I am yet to be.
*Note:“You’re so much more than your mistakes.” quoted from Dr. Wayne Dyer
The sea was a whisper before it was water,
cleaved through the wind.
I stepped into its silver mouth,
waves curling something pressing in
a wistful longing for a past I never knew.
Seagulls traced ethereal designs across the expanse
their wails scattered like fragments.
Somewhere underneath the foam,
the past was fossilized within sedimentary strata
waiting for my hands to delve deep enough to find it.
The tide came in more forcefully
and I thought of to how love in this way
always arriving, always leaving---
sometimes tender, sometimes intense enough
to split the coast in two.
When it ebbed, it left behind more than remnants of a disaster,
it embodied the ideal I sought;
calmed by the steady undulations of the sea,
gleaming in calmness;
as if the tide dredged up
on the verge of being forgotten.
tides flow in then out
waves appear then disappear
rhythms of nature
Written: July 30, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Oliver Mckeithan
**************
palimpsest of love—
laurel dreams and libido
fiddle in the hum,
winding soul, smitten and raw—
coral heart churning through tides.
lovesick soul hums soft,
coral and laurel entwined—
fiddle of the heart.
For Sir Brian Strand's 1396 Poetry Contest
15 July 2025
s c
y r
a ~ ~ ~ a
r ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ s
p ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ h
s ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ in rhythm
~~~ ~ ~~~~~ ~~~ ~~
~~~ ~ ~~~~~ ~~~ ~~ u n
~~~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~~ with a t e against the rocks ~~^o.0o[]
~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~ ~~~~
~~~~ ~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~ ~~~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~ as saltbreeze whistles >>>&#
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~ ~~~~
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~
~~~~~~
~
Fingertips
fall—
not like
stones,
but like rain,
plucked silver
threading the air.
Each string
holds a hush,
a breath not yet
forgotten.
The musician builds—
not a score,
but the curve
of a heron’s wing
skimming dusk
softly vanishing
in a single glissando.
The guzheng does not speak.
It spills:
vibrato,
a tide rising
then breaking
against memory.
Sound leans back—
not toward silence
——but toward a
distant shore
we once
heard.
________________
Note: Guzheng is a traditional Chinese musical instrument.
The silence, filled with whispers of turbulence
Crashed against the tide of an ephemeral moment
Perhaps fate has a strange way of entwining chaos
And we're meant to tie its loose ends with muddy hands
The affinity to tangle even the simplest ties
Is perhaps what's most befuddling
Yet I stand here
Pondering on this connection-
With our fitted glances and stolen good-byes
Could it have been any different?
“Love is the strongest force in the universe.”
Can this statement be proven true?
Does it approve of the unusual orientation?
Does it contradict the unstoppable force against eux?
Could love hold its ground when everything crumbles?
Love lingers in the shadows, even when the light is hard to find.
I was told to know that love is invisible, yet visible
It pillages its way into your heart, leaving a bruise
Yet you somehow hold the poise.
It's a constant cycle, it never stops; it never stops; never changes
It leads you to your soulmate after fracturing your heart.
Once you meet the one, the void in your heart is ephemeral
Love can be unrequited, surging you into a hole.
Even when you give your oath
Love is a statement yet to be known.
I thought to myself, a nebulous thing(?)
“Love is a haze seen in the woods that never disappears;
Even when you hold your gaze”
As I've learned to know the characteristics of love
I dance to its rhythm, hoping it will fall my way.
Adrift in dreams while romance reading
Asleep e're night shadows began creeping
She lay puddled in moonlight's rising tide—
Jane Austen's 'Pride and Prejudice' at her side
In reverie, Elizabeth stood on the misty moor
for what seemed to her a lifetime of waiting
Held her breath when in front of her he stood
Sighing as Darcy brushed a gentle kiss on her lips
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