my working parts
fingering is just the start
on the march
knees and legs take part
head and heart, with soul
The Blue Collar Poet
I am but a poet of simple, rigid mind,
With formal education, where hindsight isn't blind.
Sometimes I look at TRUE poets of education in the lits,
And wonder if it's true or if I'll ever fit.
For I look at other works of art and see that I'm quite plain;
I don't have the background to achieve the glory, fame.
But I am quite popular among my workers on the crew,
For my simple message just shines right on through.
I can speak in riddles, backward, or in rhymes,
But my simply worded message creates the best of times.
They are my blue-collar audience of hardworking men,
Soaking up the poetry as an honest clan.
I hope I've brought a little hope or introverted thought,
Something they can take with them that wasn't even bought.
Sometimes, when it hits with them, it's like water to and fro,
Wetting down the soil and planting seeds to grow.
Sometimes there's a snicker, sometimes there's a laugh,
But when they go quietly, I know they feel my path.
Yes, it's true I wish to master my art,
But the day my crew don't know me by my heart or my pen,
That's the day I wrap it up and truly say amen.
when you lose track of time and life starts slipping away
no time for fun, working my life away
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Contest: LIGHT A PENSEE Poetry Contest
Date:July 28, 2026
Seed Becomes Light
Candle tongue
small sun in ink
he burned twenty hours to wake dawn
darkness cracked like glass before him
night bowed to one man
Poet Note:
This pensee is inspired by Thomas Edison, who worked by candlelight to invent the light bulb.
Love's wide palette
starts with your heart's posture.
Our world like a working canvas
draws us among its scenes—
don't dare stand by.
My mind works wonders
thinking of you everyday
with love in my heart
some days feel heavier
than I ever admit out loud
and I wake already tired
before the morning has even settled
but there’s a part of me
that keeps going anyway
a small, stubborn spark
that refuses to go out
I’ve walked through things
that could have stopped me
yet here I am
still standing
still trying
still choosing to move forward
and I need to hear this clearly
from myself
to myself
I’m not stepping back
I’m not losing heart
I’m not letting the hard days
decide who I am
I’m not giving up on me
not now
not ever
because I deserve a life
that feels like living
not just getting through
and I’m already
on my way there
There was a lady named Kate
for her job she was too late
soon she was fired
soon she was hired
her old boss is now her mate!
Shabby chic was her decor.
She thrived in that old nostalgic aura.
Catered to her prolific muse.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
It's never enough
doing our best but for less
no thank yous
its no wonder many say he's strong
relaxing with his love didn’t feel wrong
but there was once a time
when Moose was in his prime
Working Man felt just like his theme song
working woman's hands
never stop for a minute
Or things wouldn't get done
I had a nibble of this
a teensy taste of that
beef like a dog
fish like a cat
dessert like the Dutch
diet pills from a hutch
a candy bar too
shake with berries blue
diet is not working
gums can’t stop twerking
a cookie might help
I am a hungry whelp
She was here the other day
She’s still here with her wooden cart, devoid of paint
She believed posies and periwinkle could feed her children
For a while, it was good
Not until the leaves fell off by the street
The cart was too heavy to push
And the newspaper used to wrap a bouquet had soaked
The lines on her face grew visible
And her hair lost its vibrant ebony hue
Her back against the ruined
Where big crabbed letters run across the dilapidated walls
The passersby in the city had become unfamiliar
Her head down,
Her arid eyes watching the parched petal
Of her sunflower
Till late evening, the flowers sit cold
Summer came, a young lad pushed the same cart
With the same sight of decorative flowers
And I never saw her again
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