We ride the shimmer, stardust spun/
Between the birth of dying suns/
A groove of galaxies unwinds/
The pulse of silence, vast, sublime/
Nebulae breathe, in violet streams/
We waltz on waves of astral dreams/
Comet tails curl, a cosmic tune/
Our shadows cast by fractured moons/
Through veils of gas and drifting light,
We pass from day into the night/
Where gravity’s embrace is loose
We dance, unanchored, star-induced/
Electric hearts, in sync, align
With every ancient, pulsing sign/
We cross the nebula, become
A groove eternal, endless drum/
And when the universe exhales
Its secrets, stardust, cosmic tales/
We’ll still be moving, you and I,
Across the nebula-lit sky/
Galveston beach and its gentle mornings
glimmered through my girlhood,
warm waves wrapping my ankles
as I searched the sand for treasures~
smooth shells and shy sand dollars,
.
In the distance, my parents’ voice drifted~
the sea breeze carrying them
easy and unhurried,
as if time itself was
softened by the sea.
the salt-sweet air carried a type of comfort,
the quiet kind that
settled softly into my childhood bones~
a warmth brushed with sea-spray
and sun-soaked breezes,
the kind that tasted of tide-mist
and felt like home on my skin.
in a way, Galveston is home~
its tide once touching
my great-grandfather’s boots
as he arrived in America,
hopeful and unanchored
fresh from the old world,
finding his first foothold
in the new world.
and I carry him with me still~
his courage like a quiet current
beneath my days,
his journey echoing
in every shoreline breath,
reminding me that I, too,
am shaped by the sea
that welcomed him.
Much like the emptying of womb
Each time a mother gives birth
Increase in disasters and violence
Act as catalysts to cleanse the Earth
Many want to cling to safety
The smooth rhythm of waters around
Provision offered in waves
Without abrupt noise of unanchored sound
Along around the seventh month
Warning signals tense and flex
Preparing through unwanted movement
That strengthens muscles to pass the test
Resistance is futile against tide
Yet the unaligned will pull and resist
When birthing time arrives
The baby is found in an emergency twist
Many worlds have come and gone
The survivors are the lining of the wall
Memories are wiped each time
But new waters have helped them recall
...we are not from here
Written by Trudy Schrader on 04-16-2026
SUBMERSED*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
submersed
under cerulean layers of sleep
I drift, like plankton, unanchored…
GloFish, protists,
underwater atolls,
sea dragons, shipwrecks
moving with the undercurrent
of water drenched in sapphire moonlight
far above the waves,
a single fixed eye, unblinking,
whirls with the horizon’s arc
a glimmer, an omen, or a target glimpsed
disappeared in a moment~
and the undulating, briny sea,
the murkiness of an unfamiliar shore,
and
the beautiful luster of a sleep-darkened sky.
I thought at your fiftieth we would make up,
I saved every drop to buy you a new Ford.
Your Royce is still sweet, but it needs a backup—
Not a Lincoln, a Mustang I could afford.
But you threw the keys back at me in fury,
You let your friends mock me with horrid laughter.
On our disputes, you turned them to our jury—
They reveled, munching on our private matter.
You called me names you'd never used before them,
You left me unanchored in a wave of shame—
An abyss where you left my pleasance's scum,
Then heaped on me a full load of scorn and blame.
Is dating a prettier lady a sin?
Drown me in more shame—it quenches not the flame.
The more you dump me in your emotive bin,
The more she lifts me back into her love-frame.
-
Contest: Pick-A-Title, Vol 52
Contest Judged: June 14th, 2025 4:11:00 PM
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Placement: Third
“When life traverses the path of pathos the beguiled birds fly to
show the course out of the feeling of being abandoned”
– Quote by Poet
If in the flushing garden path you walk entranced forlorn,
the scarlet sun of the dawn’s seraphic sky embraces you,
you’ll see my heart in the lilac lines of cloud up above,
there you won’t be lonely, for I won’t ever leave you.
If on the waves of the desert dunes you trudge desolate,
trace the melting mirage to the sundown hazy horizon,
you’ll reach the verdant oasis sprawling in my olive heart,
there you won’t be lonesome, for I won’t ever desert you.
If on the golden sands of the satin beach you pace alone,
the rolling waves adorn pearly lattice on your ivory feet,
you’ll feel my heart’s cadence in the cascade of moonbeam,
there you won’t be lost, for I won’t ever forsake you.
If on the surging stream of boundless love you float adrift,
meander the unanchored life on the plateau of yearning,
you’ll hear in murmuring ripples the symphony of my heart,
there you won’t be dismayed, for I won’t ever abandon you.
In a world woven with wires,
I stand still,
a stranger in the hum of voices,
the glow of screens reflecting
a pale loneliness against my skin.
Friendships flicker like dying flames,
texts sent into the void,
echoes of laughter lost
in the thrum of busy signals,
each notification a reminder,
of the spaces that grow deeper,
instead of filling with warmth.
How fragile the bridge of connection,
laid across the chasms of silence,
where hearts beat out of sync,
and the faces we see
are mere pixels,
floating just beyond our reach.
I reach for you,
but my fingers touch only
the cool glass of a phone,
a promise of something genuine,
shattered by the speed of life,
like leaves swept in a gust,
unanchored, unbound.
Yet in this disarray,
I yearn for the days
when laughter rolled,
unfiltered and free,
and eyes met without barriers,
in the sun’s embrace,
where distance was simply
a flat horizon,
and warmth was felt,
not imagined.
But the world keeps spinning,
tethered by threads of technology,
as I stand here yearning,
a spirit adrift,
seeking the shores
of connection once more.
Disconnected
In a world woven with wires,
I stand still,
a stranger in the hum of voices,
the glow of screens reflecting
a pale loneliness against my skin.
Friendships flicker like dying flames,
texts sent into the void,
echoes of laughter lost
in the thrum of busy signals,
each notification a reminder,
of the spaces that grow deeper,
instead of filling with warmth.
How fragile the bridge of connection,
laid across the chasms of silence,
where hearts beat out of sync,
and the faces we see
are mere pixels,
floating just beyond our reach.
I reach for you,
but my fingers touch only
the cool glass of a phone,
a promise of something genuine,
shattered by the speed of life,
like leaves swept in a gust,
unanchored, unbound.
Yet in this disarray,
I yearn for the days
when laughter rolled,
unfiltered and free,
and eyes met without barriers,
in the sun’s embrace,
where distance was simply
a flat horizon,
and warmth was felt,
not imagined.
But the world keeps spinning,
tethered by threads of technology,
as I stand here yearning,
a spirit adrift,
seeking the shores
of connection once more.
A hand untouched by destiny
A journey uncharted, no lines to trace
No fate impacted, poised for its take
A narrative of choices awaiting to prevail.
Fingers quiver, wrist dance
As the unknown calls in a whimsical trance
Lacking direction, no routes defined
A quest of self-discovery, uniquely designed.
A hand untamed, an enigmatic find
A life unanchored, free from the bind
Weight an endless expanse of choices
For which there is no mate.
Yet, amidst the ambiguity, a beauty emerges
A realm of self-forging where creativity surges
The hand devoid of fate, a riddle to retrace
A voyage of self-discovery, a limitless space.
On this pristine canvas, a narrative aches to ignite
A life of endless options, yearning to take flight
A palm without fate, an artist delight
A universe of possibilities, forever to ignite.
A childhood summer
leaks away, taking with it
its raft of unanchored memories.
Thoughts grasps at the cold hands
of the never-was.
Time and age question.
The long buried emerge,
a would-be history
exposed as a replacement fiction;
one stolen from an imagined life.
A borrowed sunshine -
yet still preferable to the head-dreams
that deny both fact and fairytales,
and open doors long nailed shut.
The sandy beach and the ocean
obviously do not understand each other.
Each wave falls upon the shore,
as if it had never met that shore before.
The sand attempts to flow away,
yet scuttled crab legs
and the weight of empty shells
slows it to a shackled crawl.
Eventually,
the unstable edge of that feathering lip
tumbles into the sea.
Then the salty, always thirsty water,
turns away to flow more swiftly
through the open gills and mouths
of the unanchored
and free.
The child allowed to have their way,
And do whatsoever they may,
Who is not taught to have restraint,
Develops traits that their life taint.
The rule of appetite destroys,
And undermines life’s lasting joys.
It makes the human being a slave,
To whatever his passions crave.
Instead of reason taming urge,
Unruly urges reason scourge.
The man becomes a boorish brute,
Unanchored from his soulish root.
The home should be a training ground,
Where order reigns and love abounds.
Here children learn how they should live,
As parents sound instructions give.
When parents fail their job to do,
Society pays a high price too,
with citizens who lack the traits
That makes a nation truly great.
So many lives are ruined wastes,
Destroyed by drugs that make minds race.
Because of lack of self-control,
Men wreck their lives and lose their souls.
The quest for power, wealth, and fame,
Becomes for some a raging flame.
They live their life to make a name,
But often their life ends in shame.
Don’t let your body rule your brain,
let brain over your passions reign.
Make it your goal to become good,
To be the best a human could.
One hundred years on
Our Waste Land we celebrate
Desiccated and dry as a desert
Within our dehumanised souls
Where the tumbleweed of untruth
Sits with such disconnection
From reality,
Myriad voices peddling the myths of the madhouse
Your untruth is not mine
So far apart are we
Secure yet blinded by our own beliefs
Unanchored and ill- founded
Estranged from the truth
And dead to fact
Our refusal to recognise the denatured race
Of our reckless rush
Towards the day of judgment
Destruction and damnation.
False narratives to gullible audiences play,
Such siren songs solipsistically
Softly sing us to our graves,
Fragmentation our final fate
Emotion eclipsing reason.
dinner dark
like blackened corn on a husk
mother hits me with the blunt force of leftover liver
frying pan bled
densely knotted
unanchored from Julia Child cuisine
mother's radical rejection of normal kid food
that punches through my faith in parenting
meal of grievance
tough liver that dents gravity
that requires self sacrifice
unsettling
like imperishable grief
do I let go of my aversion
for a factory-floor meal?
gone to the dogs
(if only I had one!)
Poem composed July 17/2022
I wake in a memoryless room
unlabeled and unanchored,
a floating proprioception unhinged
from time and place.
The bathroom has moved beyond the present
it is where it was once maybe.
This room is homeless.
Who walks now out of a past
thought?
Is she this other person
who haunts another me?
Who am I to gather up her reality,
to piece her together
or to deny her to sit next to me now
here at the edge of this unmade bed?
Enigma's holding hands,
children seeking comfort
in a Delphian land.
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