#1
nine red-violet
idols intervened to
deliver an enliveningly
violent diversion for
our toney tender loins
#2
no fewer than
four woeful felon were-
wolf loungers re-
newed growling aboard their
newly tainted yellow-green and
grunge-splattered gurneys
#3
for blue-mean burgeoning
golf states the
best way to retool blonder
hair shaft maintenance is
through nebulous
globalization combined with
the further whirled onset of
bald faced lies
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 26
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 11/7/2025 2:03:00 PM
( 7th Place )
Written: October 9, 2025
I reach the edge of my hardest days…
Whispers coil around my ankles.
Debts coil and reach like old trees,
their branches scraping the walls where I once lived.
Whispers drift through the air,
the earth rough beneath my feet.
A harsh voice fills the silence,
and greed snuffs out even the smallest kindness.
The pressure tightens around my days.
Shadowed hands weigh on my shoulders,
testing the quiet strength I carry,
I carry myself forward, breath after breath.
I remain in this forge of trial.
Flames lick the edges of my spirit.
My hardest enemy is often the mirror;
my own hands, my own doubt
pulling me toward the chasm.
They cast their nets…
trying to trap my work, my name, my light.
The hush lasts just for a heartbeat.
I walk forward - not for open doors,
but because my heart will not bend,
because the spark inside me burns.
The paper gate is behind me.
Morning light spreads across the sky.
The road ahead is open.
I earned it with every step I took.
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 18 Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 9/25/2025 10:21:00 PM
( 3rd Place )
Yesterday, her words were stolen,
carried off by a world that would not see.
No ear to listen,
no place her voice could root,
a voice borrowed by shadows.
They took her courage,
the freedom to move unafraid,
to let her voice soar.
She spoke.
The world twisted her words
laughter shattering over her
like shards of glass.
She learned to watch their eyes,
to shield herself from sharpness,
from the ever-turning circle of judgment.
So she poured her truth into her pen…
it alone could carry it.
No hand could seize it;
her pen held her truth,
where reality breathed.
She is imperfect, simply a woman.
Yet she pardons those who hurt her,
and cherishes those who stayed,
however briefly.
Time passed and her pen became her fire
not simply refuge but a clarion call
rising bold unafraid completely hers.
Her words live on, unbound, indestructible…
bright as sunlight breaking glass.
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 16 Contest //Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 9/18/2025 6:26:00 PM
( 7th Place )
Written: September 12, 2025
She walked through nights no one noticed
feet heavy, heart heavier.
The silence of the world felt overwhelming.
as if kindness had disappeared.
Then, without warning
someone reached for her...
steady, warm, unexpected.
The road behind her remained,
but she could finally move forward.
For nights she had slipped alone
masking grief with pale smiles
hiding pieces of herself -
that no stranger would ever see.
Her legs ached,
her body protested
and still she whispered:
"this journey is mine alone."
She found a quiet strength,
somewhere along the way.
As she moved forward,
she held one quiet truth:
even when the night is long,
even in the darkest times...
kindness finds its path.
A simple act of care can break through
the darkness,
and the light of a new day comes,
no matter how long the night.
When she finally stops,
she lifts her face to the sun
and carries one truth:
between falling and standing,
she found him...
and the light he gave her
will walk with her forever.
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 14 Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 9/6/2025 12:49:00 PM
( 1st Place )
Written: September 04, 2025
They said the songbird
her wings twisted and torn
should quiet herself...
that the sky held no place
for the fragile or the worn.
Yet she kept a sky tucked inside her - a
place untouched by any hand.
At daylight she let her voice rise
and though her body stayed earthbound,
her song lifted past the edge of flight.
The wind slowed to listen,
branches bent nearer
and the horizon seemed to pause,
stirred by her willfulness .
Each note unlaced an old wound,
each chorus pushed against the walls
of a world that once turned her away.
Her feathers never mended,
yet her dream grew wide enough
to shelter every broken one who followed.
From her we understood:
reaching the sky
was never about wings at all.
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 11 Contest //Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 8/29/2025 12:41:00 PM
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 27, 2025
No trumpet greets the weary stride,
only gravel grinding underfoot,
the breath that rasps against the bone.
I have shouldered storm inside my chest,
their weight pressing like half-done prayers.
The world does not wait for heartbreaks
yet still I walk through its indifference.
The road is merciless with distance,
a ribbon extended beyond all sight
but its distance carves the truth of what I carry.
Every scar is a mile-marker wherein
every fall a lesson written in dust.
Hope is not the flag at the end-
it is the breath that urges: once more, once more.
I walk with shadows
and with the ghosts of those who stumble.
Yet I walk alight with the strength of survivors.
At last, I see it;
not a gate and not a crown
but a quiet clearing where the tired wind rests.
There, I set down my burden
not defeated
but strengthened!
The finish line was never drawn on the ground.
It has always remained inside the soul
waiting to be crossed.
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 8 Poetry Contest// Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 8/19/2025 7:00:00 PM
( 7th Place )
Written: August 16, 2025
I have carried myself through miles of silence,
where the wind speaks louder than memory
and the ground keeps every secret.
I thought I had put out of sight.
A child’s laughter drifting through twilight,
the scent of rain that lingers like prayer,
and shadow in hand now behind my reach,
These are the pieces I collected along the way.
There are nights when the stars lean dazzling like lanterns strung across the dark,
showing the way about something unfinished,
something I swore to myself long ago.
The road teaches in whispers,
that regret has weight,
that love outlasts distance,
that every fall can still be a beginning.
I do not count the miles anymore.
I measure them in heartbeats,
in the quiet mercy of mornings
in the truth that waits at every turning.
And when I reach the place
where the horizon bends into light,
I will know I have not been running away,
but running toward—
the long road home.
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 6 Poetry Contest// Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 8/13/2025 9:42:00 AM
( 7th Place )
Written: August 10, 2025
I run the miles deep within,
a subdued race, an unspoken intent,
devoid of spectators-- no finish line,
just breath and heart, both entwined.
The shades lengthen along my path
but still a soft dawn finds its way turning into gray.
Stage by stage a tale, flaw, and goal,
rushing, steady flow.
The road stretches far, but I endure—
a counterfeit concealed, strong and pure.
through storms that howl, nights that weep,
I keep the pace, I am awake.
With each mile that challenges my thoughts,
I find a surprising wellspring of strength.
not in the roar or triumphant--
but in the stillness, I transformed!
A marathoner not of feet,
but of the unflinching heartbeat,
so when the world drifts apart,
I run the internal reach.
Written: August 07, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Mark Toney
***********
Corset of steel tightens—ratified pain,
Vestigial breath trapped in ischemia thrall.
The ductile hope failed to placate
This Pyrrhic ache, this woebegone gall.
A sojourn in the squalor of soul,
Where sylphlike dreams maunder, downcast.
Ogle the embers of the miraculous nexus—
A seraphic visage lost, quickly.
Vivacious once, now virile with woe,
Panacea tastes of pabulum, slipshod, and cold.
Tinkling memories coruscate as zeugma—
Bright, yet untoward, they never hold.
Quixotic penchant for connection,
Grasping too late the nebula beneath.
What puissance is this—this throe, this tumult—
When tulle-wrapped love meets a gyre of grief?
Ululation beneath pavonine skies,
Adumbrate every glance, every sigh.
Crimson weave keeps a skirt in place,
Valuable, stained, adorned, and slain.
Endowed with life that’s blest, my heart does glow
as joys flow midst thanks’ zest
to share love of peaceful crest
while praising God*, doing best.
*Psalms 103:2 Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits.
June 22, 2025
Honorable Mention, "Straight One-Rhymed Englyn" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney; judged on 7/16/2025
Written: June 21, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Mark Toney
Checked by HMS.COM / 10-6-7-7
***********
There is a place where my feet—often stray
Not sought, but swept retreat.
Beyond the known—cold, complete—
Truth hides in peace, soft and fleet!
Heart throbs with blest love*
powered by life's source
breathing-out gladness
for ready sharing
smiting selfishness...
Chance to do best
with freedom's bliss
I pray toward
fulfillment glow...
By God's grace
my soul does
continue...
Loving
as faith...
works.
*I John 4:7-8 - "Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. He who does not love does not know God, for God is love."
November 8, 2024
Featured in "Flash Poetry Challenge" of Mark Toney that ended on Tuesday, December 17, 2024.
First biological parents, Adam and Eve
to each other and for one another, they did cleave
created by God with His workmanship* divine
yet, they failed midst human nature’s whine.
First couple in their love’s partnership zest
both resided in great paradise crest
enjoying full blessings’ gain
but soon were banished in pain
when temptation won during their pride’s test.
Adam and Eve established first home on earth
Along first family’s children of precious worth…
Despite domestic conflicts, and relationship’s pleasure
Mankind now thrives since they multiply beyond measure.
*Ephesians 2:10 For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.
July 9, 2024
15th place, "Clerimerick Couplets (hybrid form)" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney; judged on 7/21/2024
Slovakia one
deep dark despair depression
England nil — hey Jude
Bellingham bicycle kick
Toney assist Kane header
Introducing Mark Toney
The real McCoy, not phony
Works hard on accounting and income taxes
Writes poetry and prose as he relaxes
Mark fancied himself a tax expert
Cool pocket protector on his shirt
Touting tax tips he tried
Till terribly tongue-tied
Nevermore will he overexert
Hundreds flocking to Mark’s door
What does tax time have in store?
Mixed reactions to Mark’s beckoning
As they face their day of reckoning
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