To dust, The old boxes in the attic, the old toys in the basement, they turn to dust as they stay forgotten, the cotton rabbit going rotten. The boxes taped close, as if reopened they'd grow and Molden. the small bed in the room, needing dusting, the frames rusting and the sheets clustering. the pictures turned down, the stand broken and the glass broken, the frame cracked and dusted. The kid in this room loved it, but moved out for peace, getting a lease and building a life, new bed, new pictures, new boxes and new toys for the kids they had themselves, and soon enough that kid's room will dust too. Not in dirtiness but in affection, showing how much it was looked in, slept and cried in, and used. SO if you dust it don't throw out the boxes, don't resell the toys, don't throw out the broken pictures and please don't dismantle the bed, leave it to be, leave the memories fly around, leave it as a museum until the kid comes into that house, picking that same room, using that same bed, ripping those same boxes and playing with those same toys. To dust, is to love.
single fuzzy moth
turned down wrong path now is lost
heads towards amber light
ACTORS BIOGRAPHY
____ ____ is an actor most famous
for his role as John Smith on the TV series Unnamed.
He is from the UK and started his
career having minor roles in small
touring stage productions for a year.
From 2023, he was cast as a
supporting role in a West End
production of Transient at the
Evanescence Theatre.
Migrating from the stage to the
screen, he had some uncredited
parts in short-lived television
shows.
In 2024, John Smith was a role that
he auditioned for. Initially, the role
was offered to another actor but
was turned down due to them
having to go into rehabilitation.
He worked on Unnamed until his
sudden firing from the show in
2026. Little is known about the
reason for this. However, it could
be linked to his current issues with
tax avoidance and alcoholism.
After a measly four year career, he
is no longer working in the industry.
Turned me down with a worn line,
Smiled like want was a grave crime.
Love is nothing but sex misspelled,
Lit the match, let the distance swell.
Now she’s old, eyes lost their shine,
Came knocking, she is lost in time.
Flame’s dead, I am as cold as ice,
Gravity’s grip on her wasn’t nice.
I’m just echoes in a deserted town,
Love’s a crown and she let me down.
Silence speaks truths untold,
A story of hearts that grew too bold.
To say more is to say less —
She was a crown, now just a mess.
The hunter's done. The plain is bare.
She is still cruel and is not that rare.
Oblige me, you’re a fool to think,
She caused many a man to drink?
Oblige her, she will hate you still.
Offend her and she never will
I have no mouth, and I must scream,
Desire’s a lie, and so was my dream.
Turned down turned off the light,
Love was a curse in the night.
Turned her down, she said to me,
You won’t be the last I won’t set free.
Her smile a lie, feelings a jest,
A fickle fire, left unexpressed.
Sun’s warmth is winter’s disguise,
Nothing but a cheap plastic prize.
Never trust the winter sun,
Or the heart of any woman.
Now her face tells a twisted tale,
Unicorns and fairies and sprites galore, umbrage unto the night scorches again, they tirelessly whisper the haunted hospital marble is free of thistle! It is there to wait beside near and dear the princess couplet the princess cut stone fears, and turned down that measly jester the halls of the shamed are not this marbled vesper.
I once got turned down by a female raven
She didn't like the way I was behavin'
Was it something that I said...
when we sat on the bed?
Nah, twas the mouse that ran by she was cravin'
5. "May is the month of promise and the sweet beginnings of summer." - Unknown
From March the dark brown
when soil is turned down
soon quiet seedlings rise
with a bright green surprise
bursts of pink, red or blues
all provide summer’s muse
still there follows more green
until all sprung and preen
delightful is May’s greenery
full of hope in its scenery
I was a young mother
had just put the baby to bed
laid down on a couch exhausted
my eyes closed
I regressed to another lifetime. I was dressed like a flapper
maybe the 1930’s, I knew I was in Chicago
I was running in heels, my feet hurt
if the car chasing me caught me I was dead
Someone yelled and jumped out of the car
I turned down an alley without an opening
They caught me and threw me down
I felt the knife cut my throat
and the blood drip
Note: I tried entering Andrea's Valentine Contest. I struggled. And cried. Fished for a fish that wasn't all there. Then I caught one after the contest closed. Happy I am to reel one in.
Sally's Valentine brought sugar and sweets
She was excited for lights out and treats
Perhaps a night on the town
But her excitement turned down
When fake Romeo ordered Uber Eats
connie pachecho
2/11/26
I am an hour early to the restaurant to meet my friends
Some people might think this Is silly
It was planned
This gives me an hour to write while I wait
If the music was turned down, it would be a bit nicer
Twin boys who looked to be twelve walked past the window.
I am glad they put me here
twins always inspire a story
because I am a twin
and a writer
Everybody loves my baby
She’s so sweet and she’s so fine
Everybody loves my baby
The one I call Clementine
We go dancing every Friday
When the lights are turned down low
Impossible grooves then there take
Us on the dance floor all aglow
We go where the music makes us
Out of time and out of space
Everybody loves my baby
As she melts in my embrace.
(9/21/25)
Ghost Rainbow
A woman rang me, she was panegyric about my poems
I smiled without mirth because I knew there would be
a question of financing, the publishing of a book I have
had high hopes for, but had been turned down too often
The woman was adamant about the manuscript
Intense Recall was art, she insisted, a mastery of art.
For one who has spent twenty years trying to become
A writer and poet can so easily fall for flattery
The woman, on the phone, said she loved me, that alone
rang warning bells, and I thought of the Fascist poet, who
lived in Italy all his life, a poet who expects to be paid
is not a real poet; I assume he, like so many other poets
had private means
The price for making me into a famous poet was not
excessive, quite reasonable, yet too much, so I have
to forgo being famous; that is ok, no one will sit down
and write lies about me
where
does
love go
with
the
lights
turned down low
when
the
heart
wants to know
where
the
heart
wants to go
young lovers
underneath
the
moonlight stars
In colors he bloomed, with a big red nose,
He chose the job where laughter grows.
There he stood in rounded boots,
With a grin of mischief and playful hoots.
Dressed like a child, his costume loose,
A floppy hat, a bright jumpsuit.
Then came the rain--it cleared the crowd,
While the magician watched, silent and proud.
And through the downpour, something broke through
A glimpse of the man, not masked, but true.
His smile turned down, a burdened frown,
Grief wrapped tight in his circus gown.
He vanished with no tear, no trace,
Just silence held in a painted face.
He ends his shift, no cheers, no song,
As a joker he smiled, as a joker he belonged
Barney Fife, the bumbler, is a joy to watch
Aunt Bea’s whining could be turned down a notch
Opie is grown, but not in these old shows, of course
Some days he sneaks carrots out to his found horse
Andy never gets married, but comes close a lot
Maybe this kept me watching, but I hope not….
Barney Fife’s eyes bugging out in fear is what gets me
His antics and expressions make me happy to have TV
I love that he never gets it until the very end
Everything fixed up by Andy, Barney’s true best friend.
Sub Categories
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