%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
| The fingers of this monster wet yank me so firmly off my board. That reef I'm on's my deep regret. "How will it go?" My final word? The roiling waves, the shake machine 'twould be a drink of greatest delight, but I into the drink so green will rue my latest surfing plight. "Stay Up! Stay Up!" Each muscle screams as grappling lines jettison my peace. My hope for life on Earth, my dreams full struggle against it to find release. As down and down I go, succumb to barnacles, that slice my skin. Such loss of blood as I grow numb. The hope for me now fades to grim. The screen goes dark as lungs inflamed cry out for fresh air for to breathe. I pop up from the waves untamed as breath can come before the grief. line count: 20 poetry form: quatrains of mostly iambic tetrameter prompt number: 8 (February 8th, 2026) by Jay O’Toole on February 26th, 2026      |
un: 
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Community Feed
Puzzle Hub
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
