Sorry, friends, this isn't a poem. I just wanted to express how thankful I am to have the app back! Perhaps it will motivate me to write more...
Looking forward to reconnecting with old friends and making new ones!
Things have been crazy busy in my life since my last post. I have TWO grandsons who keep me on my toes, but who also have made this life so much more wondrous! I have also lost my maternal grandmother and my four-legged child, though, so I obviously have some grief to work through. This summer we drove 1200 miles to adopt a dog who is pure chaos. His name is Lewis. I'm cautiously optimistic about this new year. Cheers!
Tender seedling emerges through frost-hardened earth,
small sprout whose delicate leaves unfurl,
encouraged by willful, attentive sunbeams
and roborant, meandrous snowmelt streams.
Then, bolstered by nature's eternal tough love,
'mid storms and droughts, and plenty thereof,
supported by delicate suckling roots,
a daisy buds atop one shoot.
The stretching days leisurely court shy sepals,
thus unveiling ivory petals~
velvety slips encircling orbed yellow,
a commix of brilliant and mellow.
Resplendent blossom, fragrant and open wide,
standing tall awaiting summertime,
there's nothing to fear, so exhale your bound breath
such graceful pith will always abet.
Sorry I've been absent for a while...I needed some time to just be lazy. I gardened, kayaked, swam, played games, and enjoyed my family. Unfortunately, that means I forgot to screenshot the challenge from Prose last week...I still like to write for them even if I miss the deadline. Oh well. What I feel terrible about is missing all of your pieces, which I'll try to catch up on soon! Much love, everyone!❤️
Goodbye, a Heroic Sonnet
Baptisia cowered under autumn's ceaseless heat,
distressed and graying 'long the garden fence,
as rusty grass rove under gelid feet
at peace with recompensing cancer's debt.
Pellucid limbs reposed atop a squab,
assuaged by sun-baked warmth and downy fluff,
and once the lancinations dulled to throbs,
he addressed the doting boy aside his cuff:
"'My son, the quiet grows too loud to spurn;
like windless days that sap the stream bed dry
and unseen flames devour'ng bees and birds,
the stillness belays fear and prompts goodbye-
but know I'll still protect you from above
until the day our souls unite again,
'cause even death can't quell a father's love;
embrace me in your memories 'til then...'
and that, old friend, is what you must relay
when Junior holds your paw and cries my name."
Sippin', smokin', privately-
no filter needed here-
holding hands with liberty,
resplendent in our queer.
Judgements paused, no snide remarks-
defenses are relaxed-
shielded from the hate that lurks,
beyond the curtained glass,
guarding freedom, happiness,
and covenants of love
'gainst rainbow letters that address
White sunlight casts upon closed lids
a fi'ry sunset glow,
as 'neath me fledgling grasses chill-
a paradox bestowed.
Ripe lilac breezes punctuate
the pressing troposphere,
plush purple wisps that twist and skate
through winter-ravaged nares.
Stout aster stems doth hold aloft
with velvet tongues that seek the gloss
of nectar's sticky prize.
The plodding drone of laden bees
augments the brook's frore flux-
a limpid backyard symphony
'pon which my pith can sup.
Lady Rina de Laborde
I decamped Le Sphinx when curfew broke,
before sun's rays had dawned,
ensoddened by the German blokes
that haunted la maison.
Midst fetid fog of poverty,
I lugged my bones toward home
to pen tales of debauchery
with goss relayed in code.
'Cause high-born whores knew how to read,
but few could also write,
the SOE enlisted me
to help France in her plight.
Young soldiers bragged of strategies
when plied with alcohol;
spilled secrets faster than their seed
as I held them in thrall.
Their leaders then paid half a franc
per sex-enshrouded word,
which netted thrice my nightly bank
for stories thus conferred.
The Nazi presses pumped my vice
throughout the Paris streets,
out to the demarcation line
with unsuspecting speed.
For three long years I undermined
their tyrranous regime;
amassing wealth, I walked the line,
avenging the marquis.
Iron Sword (trigger warning- abuse)
The pungent froth of evening tide
caressed my weary toes
as golden sands of Surya's Pride
chafed restlessly below.
Soft footprints, fleeting, ebbed away,
dispatching mid-life strife,
alongside revelers that sang
a happy birthday rhyme.
Balloons on strings trailed merrily
behind the boist'rous girls,
whose cake-smeared smiles' ecstasy
outshone their baby pearls.
My green-eyed gaze burned through the crowd,
o'er presents piled high,
when sirens screeched like hawks on scout
within my wounded mind.
'Pon rubber legs besmote by wind,
compelled, I crossed the beach,
his scent exhumed from mem'ries dimmed
by time's succ'ring concrete.
My dinner roiled up my throat
and ghostly pain stabbed deep
as children blindly stood too close
to vice disguised as meek.
Fresh waves of filth crashed through my veins,
then streaked down crimson cheeks,
betraying the enduring shame
I earned when /I/ was three.
'Oh, Papa, come. You play with us,'
a guileless pixie begged;
her trusting dimples froze my pulse
and turned my vision red.
Resolved to save that precious soul
from deviant abuse,
I closed moist lids to wrest control
and bind the trauma bruise.
Between the space of heartbeats' whoosh,
revenge played out the scene
I'd dreamt of since I'd understood
the wrong he'd done to me:
~I melt his bloody, iron sword
right off its tarnished hilt,
then quench it in the ocean's roar
and watch him writhe with guilt.~
Profound regret blew through my lips
in lieu of vi'lent deeds
and fantasy was fast eclipsed
when opened eyes revealed
a withered monster, long past prime,
who paused and held my stare-
his look contrite for heinous crimes,
it pled for me to spare.
Protectiveness at war with hope,
like mountain trees fight storms,
I slid my finger 'cross my throat-
a gesture to forewarn.
The solace that my silence lent
eased furrows on his brow-
a conscience firmly on the mend
while /my/ hell was aroused.
Yet, as they passed, the blazing sun
was quenched by turquoise waves
and to forgiveness I succumbed
as moonlight took its place.
*critical feedback desired*
"Ten thousand moons have bloomed and wasted thin
since Homosap'ens sap'ens tempted fate,
ignoring Wise Ones' doleful climate cries
until The Scourge awoke to eat their brains:
'Neath molten skies that dripped with CO2,
all ancient ices melted from the poles
and carried novel viral threats that breached
the sandbags piled high to stanch the flow.
The humans brandished medicines and masks,
assuming brainy scientists would cure
all sicknesses their foes could curse them with-
and, for a time, the younger ones endured.
Alas! One monster proved too tough to beat,
for tiny as they were, their feasting spread
to ev'ry mountaintop upon the Earth;
within a year, most humanoids were dead.
With seven billion bodies strewn like leaves
and Scourge's bellies filled with neural mush,
they oozed through pores and huddled on the ground;
sleep swiftly tucked them back into the Earth.
The Chosen Ones survived The End of Days,
allowed to live in order to regale
how Mother Nature deals with harsh abuse:
her booby traps revengefully assail.
Remember, young Ones, never should you harm
this glor'ous ball of heaven we call home,
as hist'ry's foremost lesson I've extolled:
we all must be as one with nature's whole."
Beaneath the pounding surge,
they're swept and tossed about.
White-capped waters, violent,
drown the pleas that splutter.
Within a raw abyss,
no starlight can be seen.
They remain indentured,
kneeling on the seabed.
A seismic shift revolt
rode lava to the shore.
Rainstorms lash on exit,
hissing hate with fervor.
Their anguish burns the ground,