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Rated: 18+ · Book · Writing · #1236257
A log of the magnificent journey across the vast sea of my imagination.
A sig awarded for winning "The Anything Goes Poetry Contest"

A log of our magnificent journey.

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November 28, 2023 at 3:11pm
November 28, 2023 at 3:11pm
#1060262
“Gratitude is the inward feeling of kindness received. Thankfulness is the natural impulse to express that feeling. Thanksgiving is the following of that impulse.”
— Henry Van Dyke


I am thankful for
my full belly after dinner,
shared with all my family,
finally together again
following quarantine decree.

I am thankful that
we survived the scourge
and lived to celebrate
another Thanksgiving
where traditions dominate.

I am thankful for
the smell of Grammy's turkey dressing,
the feel of all those hugs around the room,
and the glow on all these faces,
not achieved through lens of Zoom.


Notes
November 20, 2023 at 3:21pm
November 20, 2023 at 3:21pm
#1059832
Aromas from the kitchen feed
the bonds of family,
as Mama starts to blend and knead
the dough for baking spree.

When stench of baby's diaper
alerts her in the night,
she soothes her cranky customer
without a speck of spite.

When our creative spirits bloom,
the sticky fingerprints
adorn the walls of ev'ry room
with hue of peppermints.

We thank the Lord for all of these
and many more fond memories.


Notes on the Hymnal Measure form of poetry
October 29, 2023 at 1:44pm
October 29, 2023 at 1:44pm
#1058251
Shrill echoes reverberate across the haunted plain, as ghouls gather outside the cemetery gate. Once summoned to atone for their dastardly deeds, they seek revenge on innocent townsfolk, as payment for their unfortunate fate. Finally free to satiate that long-standing lust for redemption, their voodoo chants, raucous rants, and evil oaths shake you to the core.

Miasmic vapors billow forth, and ancient blasphemies emerge, as the mausolean hate campaign erupts from the Gates of Hell. The caterwauling lords of chaos will bury a hatchet in your cranium, as they choreograph their undying vengeance. A plan to eat your brains and guzzle all that blood is also on the agenda. Slicing and dicing are their grotesque delight while they wander here and there throughout the night.

The ghouls continue their monstrous celebration, until the early dawn begins to bring some light and disperse the darkness covering the madness. As you clear the cobwebs from your dreamy brain, the ghouls no longer celebrate.



161 words
October 17, 2023 at 2:46pm
October 17, 2023 at 2:46pm
#1057574
The military tradition--
Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines--
all work to fulfill their mission
and guide their lives by what it means.

From Sergeant's greeting at boot camp,
intended to get your attention,
to the confined foxholes so damp,
beyond civilian comprehension.

From the battle of Bunker Hill
to Fallujah and beyond,
we continue to fill the bill
and never fail to respond.
October 3, 2023 at 3:29pm
October 3, 2023 at 3:29pm
#1056684
I am dancing with a moonbeam
on joyful spree
of reverie,
where wishful thinking reigns supreme.

So many possibilities
to fly away
without delay
upon enchanted summer breeze.


Notes on Onda Mel form of poetry
September 26, 2023 at 3:38pm
September 26, 2023 at 3:38pm
#1056251
Something in the wind takes me to
another time, another place,
where tides seduced and skies were blue.
Something in the wind takes me to
the sandy shore where seagulls flew
and ocean breeze caressed my face.
Something in the wind takes me to
another time, another place.



Notes

September 26, 2023 at 2:57pm
September 26, 2023 at 2:57pm
#1056248
He served his country with honor
on military mission
to defend our values.

Today, he fights arthritis
instead of Viet Cong.

Bouncing grandson Toby on his knee,
he tells alluring tales
of where he has been,
from Sicily to Singapore.

On Sunday, he goes to church
and prays
for successors' safe return.
Then, he watches football on TV
and sips a beer or two.

Although he spends a lot of time
sitting on the couch
with his constant companion
Arthritis,
his thoughts are always with
those on the front line.
August 25, 2023 at 1:48pm
August 25, 2023 at 1:48pm
#1054587
As the shadows of nightfall crept across the meadow, Rebecca rose from the rocking chair on her porch and prepared to retire for the night. Suddenly, an eerie sound coming from the nearby forest caught her attention. She knew hearing music in the woods at night was a bad sign, but it was such a pretty tune. Stepping down from the porch, she tried to identify the source.

Just like the Pied Piper did in Hamelin with his magic flute, this mystic melody entranced her and led her deeper into the wilderness.

As she traversed through the evening mist settling over the trail, she was accosted by a cordon of ghouls, each with the visage of a wolf and talons for hands. They enshrouded her with a tarp and carried her farther along the forest trail.

Eventually, they removed the tarp when they arrived at the perimeter of an enclosure, where a group of spectral waifs danced in a circle around a huge vat. The stench of burning sulfur emanating from the bubbling substance in the vat permeated the entire enclosure. Presently, the circle was broken by two of the ghouls carrying a young man writhing and screaming in the grip of their talons. The screaming intensified as they dropped their victim into that vat of boiling fluid.

Suddenly, a tall figure cloaked in black appeared beside Rebecca and asked, "Are you ready, my dear? Your turn is next." Quickly, the ghouls' talons tightened against her arms until they pierced the skin.


********************************************


252 words
Prompt: She knew hearing music in the woods at night was a bad sign, but it was such a pretty tune.
August 22, 2023 at 10:40am
August 22, 2023 at 10:40am
#1054436
They say,
"The best things in life are free,"
but that is not true.

Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines
willingly sacrifice
and pay the price

so that we may enjoy
all those "free" pleasures.
August 1, 2023 at 11:19am
August 1, 2023 at 11:19am
#1053427
It's the little things
with which we can relate--

the way a robin sings
upon the garden gate,
the creases in your hand,
the pebble in your shoe--

with vision to expand
and make poetic stew.

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