cowboy can faultlessly eye cauldron of brandy
but carbocyclic camphorweed forgotten
his youthful kith unquietly loll in Kursk
to guard nefarious nightshade
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 13–19, 2026)
a rebel always drudge those unquietly ~ but not nefarious
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 13–19, 2026)
always
blotchy
crinkly
drudge
ensemble
faultlessly
godlike
hip
in
knitwear
louis
monterverdi
nympho
of
pimply
railing
smashing
tasteslessness
unquietly
viscous
was
your
zamang
Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 13–19, 2026)
It’s the leading ****
Of the film!”
“Jen, you are not
allowed to talk during movies!”
“Try breathing deeply.
I find that helpful.”
“Want to know
why you’re not my type?”
“No.”
It’s 2026
and time to rewatch
The film-
‘6 days and 7 nights’
I knew I was watching
a hilarious take
on dating, marriage,
strain and tug,
separation,
planes stuck in sand,
the lovey-dovey,
seriously funny
jokes.
This isn’t funny.
You are having divorce
for dessert.
“Some sort of creature,
has just swum up my pants.”
Everything can be funny
and “all good questions.”
You won’t catch
me smiling,
hunting peacocks,
or doing anything
boringly Orthodox, or
unquietly silly.
“Ha! I’ve flown with you
twice, and you crashed
half the time.”
“Stop!”
Something is crawling
in your hair. “Stop!”
I got it. I love you!
Walk.
What was that? What did she say?
Watch your words, erase them and
only write what is being viewed as
excepted for today.
Hold your thoughts and your feelings
bury. You may influence or insult some
body if your feelings you unquietly carry.
Open not your heart and truth give way
for what we feel as a society changes
from day to day, maybe because of the
way we are swayed.
Leaders use threats, violence and retaliation
today; When things they want are not going
their way. Forget we are one nation under God
for the real world doesn't want us to unite
here or abroad.
Speak from the heart I was told and never let
anyone tell you, you are to bold. If not a nation who
is strong in bond; Then what is there to be said
when our freedoms and future is gone.
You were starving the words
to commit the waves of hunger.
What I wanted was a patch of shade
under an olive grove.
No intrusion. It was a miscarriage
of justice. We were searching the –
missing links between the years
of misunderstandings.
We sell our gods and move on
unquietly to understand the-
lament of middle of the road, when
sun was nestling in the clouds.
It was Fall. Fall of vanity, fall of
integrity. Fall, fall-
my pride, my tears. The season
was changing.
Satish Verma
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