Good Sense Of Humour Blunts The Sharp Blades Of Reality Poetry
Contest //Sponsored by: Natasha L. Scragg
Contest Judged: 8/30/2025 4:27:00 AM
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 5, 2025
When life threw me a curveball,
I stumbled—then chuckled mid-fall.
Lumped knees, not pride, I wore like bent,
because sneering is something I've seen.
In chemo rooms and vestibules,
I frenzied dry jokes on aseptic walls.
Doctors simpered, nurses would beam—
a punch-line where the fear had been.
When agony thumped hard and sleep grew thin,
I let the silly light writhe in.
A meme, a whirl , a silly song—
made aching days feel less so long.
No, humour incurable or patch,
But it's the ally, not made to part.
It doesn't silence, hurt or truth,
but let me smirk with my aching tooth.
So here's my laugh, though life gushes beneath,
it's how I rise, not how I lament!
If I could change the world,
I’d get rid of alarm clocks,
eliminate the endless lines,
send mosquitoes packing, and transform Mondays
into something gentler.
If I could change the world,
sunbreaks would brighten up rainy mornings,
dogs would wander freely in all the parks,
and Wi-Fi would never fail.
If I could change the world,
there’d be no tears, no vestibules,
no “just deal with it” or “you’re being too sensitive”—
and traffic would become a thing of the past.
If I could change the world,
pizza would qualify as a cure,
weekends would become five days long,
and a laugh that is too loud
or sobs in poignant films
would be deemed strong enough
to make a real impact.
Seems nothing much changes
when you look out from vestibules;
The grass always looks greener
if the rich ones make all the rules.
You can walk many miles,
moving far from your precious youth,
Yet those men won't tell you
if you will ever find the truth.
Signs on the avenue
try to tell you which way to go
And yet it's always hard
when the arrow can't find the bow.
Even prints in the sand
will someday be washed out to sea;
Some may say they've been lost
while others swear they've been set free.
Age is just memory
that has carried you through the years,
Might serve you in good times
or leave you knee deep in arrears.
Daily dues will accrue,
each penny is to be repaid,
While all the plans of man
will not be accepted in trade.
When it comes to move
take only what it is you'll need;
Leave the baggage behind,
there's no need for the weight of greed.
Keep the contacts at hand,
those of your relatives and friends;
They are the keys of life
upon which your freedom depends.
Have I ever wasted words on lower-cases and capitals?
Laying beneath cool ground spring, waiting in its vestibules
Happiness can be found loving this Earth for its residuals
Toothpicks of this stand; reaching for heaven in tones, sepia
'Til they're filled with what's beneath me; green colors plethora
Flowers soon will be dancing on this bed; just as they have before
One cool soft rain from nature's mother; this landscape will live once more
Against sky-blue tapestry; worthy of a majuscule
A moment infrangible; in my record, no-way minuscule
In its grip,
each bone to chafe and grind
All joints,
regifted vestibules of pain
Motion stalls,
as swelling wraps each limb
Sleep the angry victim
—time’s revenge
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2020)
Seigh sint for the vestibules
of clost clast nine
Come chost for the chestevules
of ploast past fynne
Gorse rusts, brush burns its colors.
Time and it’s bustling creatures
curls now into pockets and vestibules.
Leaf doors open releasing sky to fall
as they flame.
Hawk-watching crows gather in drifts;
see-through hedges appear, yet twigs
are still olive and whittled raw.
Hawks fly beyond the rooftops.
The hedges rattle, we see through
to where the wind is barelegged.
Campfires smoke in cooling cavities.
Autumn flavors its dwindling stores.
Mist-warm velvet wombs seed the far unseen.
Groundhogs carry sparrow bones
from one naked shelf to another.
Aura Star
beneath the rubble throughout
tumble thimble want to bee
sought through of curtain wanna be
circle through the defiance years to see
pudding in the cup just wait and see
there look at parting vestibules in there distance
I exist as a vapor then I am no more
yesterday is a given day today we seek not be this way
chosen in the vast amber to the knowledge we need to gain
labor in the sun have a bit of fun...,
chose the distance begin to run
Aura star take you very far
the horse will explain,
such as the Willow tree
distant to believe
parting of the leaves
in every source to believe
shake dreams from your hair.my innocent one
chose the day to have a bit of fun
Aura Star...
ice with snow feelings swept you ought to know
today I stand as a merchant swept in the Tumble Bee
chase past the trees quest to believe
look to the beauty one last time
arm be with harmony given one last time
A tattered Calico traverses the crumbling corridor
dissecting a row of dilapidated sacred structures,
each uniquely indistinguishable from the next.
The wind carries an eerie refrain
as it whistles through the splintered stones,
white-washed to harbor their degeneration.
There's a fragrant stench of wilted petals
lying dormant in stagnant waste.
This potpourri of nature's compost
resonates from the marred receptacles
lining this mourning path.
Picket shadows serve no comfort
from the unbearable fervor
as it bakes these palaces of the deceased.
Irreverent voyagers marvel at its spectacle,
congregating within the blighted vestibules,
ignoring the pleas of sacrilege,
all to capture images for their own posterity.
Exit this city of the dead,
allow the mourners their serenity due.
Bestow the departed their wanted peace
and leave them to their gentle rest.
All I Ever Wanted
Words like violence
Break through the silence
whips, chains & blood
What is truth ?
columns of cement alabaster vestibules
to run in the distance,
a path at the opening of a forest
to bask in the vast expanse of the day
chosen to bow the knee to pray
along the path a dark figure rises
eyes with spots having holes in the side of head
a shallow pool is inside the walkways abode
I pause my head to think
Can't even wink to dismiss this earthly bliss
with a time well spent in thought
a bridge elapsed through the mirage of the moment
dark creatures manifest their heightened madness
I moved away to see another face
that of a maiden in waiting for her lover which was me
yet all I ever wanted was the truth to behold
onto another moment or that of episode
I know that I should not have looked
My eyes collect the movements
that do frighten to the core
I know that I should not have looked
I’m curious all the more
For there behind the thicket
where the beasties come to play
Lurking in the underbrush
and thorny mass decay
Drooling on the pathway
when the blood begins to seep
Eating pieces of your heart,
the fears they long to reap
Carving out a warning
in the dark archaic stone
Arches built of victim’s
empty vestibules of bone
Gathered neath the shadows
falling bleak the universe
Twisted, barely visible
the message fills the curse
Dare not seek what leads the eyes,
upon this sanctuary tread
None shall live to hear the cries,
echoes fall among the dead
Follow forth another way
lest death become your wandered path
Turn about this end of day
or face the heartless aftermath
There behind the thicket
where the beasties come to play
It’s best this evening to beware
and look the other way
For the I should not have looked Poetry contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose
5/31/17
It's Not Easy When The Road Is Your Driver
To want you to hold you to need you
We look for love in all the wrong places
Certain vestibules will leave a trace in
A challenge to be free is a question of time
With my shortness of breath makes me step in line
Shadows break through the piercing skin
A new day in which to begin again
A flood of emotions from my tavels on the road
The turning of a tide onto a new episode
The moments we used to share having so much fun
We look for cover now while were out on the run
I remember the touch of your hand & sweet romance
The soft music with a long drawn out bubble bath
We see a slight vision from the mirror at a glance
A love letter that was sent to your door lest I implore
It's not easy when the road is your driver
One hand to hold a heart will mend
A glance at the past will tell us of our future
Sweet kisses with perfume in the air
We dined in the comfort of a loving touch in the atmosphere
You were a stranger so long ago yet not anymore
Imploding organs whistle smaller that the day of crimes
That time recorded
PRISON RAT –
Reflect a moving shade.
Chimneys melt like wax imagined moonlight rooves
CRACK THE SKY –
Emulsion’s vestibules!
The theme dissolves a strip of light I lick
And trim the flights of high electric bulbs –
The word an insane caption each man traps:
Release one prisoner per line!
In words the choosing starts to loose
What rubbish I have hidden:
I am the pauses
In the yellow silken dust
Not sinking not swimming
Alive in the light
To my ears to my eyes
To my hands to my mind:
SIX MILLION TONS OF LOVE
Sperm a feast
While men who walk in circles through the stars
Blow passion
A bottle high upon the shelf
The bouncing summit floods inspire
The hanging man to take the moment
To the glass
AND NEVER TURN THE BACK
AUDIO VISUAL
What is a fight without a cause?
Is it just a hidden affair that has no voice?
Only knowledge that cannot be divulged and when discussed, the topic is irrelevant.
Mentality is a place of iniquity.
Mediums are designed by civil engineers to place mentally captured vestibules; those,
which will manifest identities.
You can hear their mundaneness in their conversation.
You do not want to speak to a naked wall.
As a result, they enter your vocal environment.
For that reason, you speak out.
___________________________________|
penned on october 24, 2014!
Wakeful dispensations....
Traveling down reproaches weaving road at the speed of mono sound!?
Disintegrations decay within the rearview mirrors fiery blow-by-blows
Smoke and debris transformations strewn about whirlwind trails of sins
Destructive tales to form this phenomenon through, vestibules cryptic....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....Crucible amid, assimilations abstract theory?!
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