Photo Challenge #302

Machine Innocence
– Shichigoro Shingo

A sign of friendship,
a dose of humanity.
Machine innocence.

Sorry for the brevity stressful day!


Photo Challenge #295

Flying Tree.jpg

– Sarolta Bán


My roots catch behind your sealed lids.
Your blue eyes are the firmament,
your pupils two defunct satellites.
Dissected and withheld I huddle
in your sightless sclera/apogee.

The mask most worn becomes a cage.
I am neither effigy nor disciple.
Must you assign all your misgivings to me?
Must you curse my name as if I were
a murder of crows come to pluck
your righteous harvest?

The clouds are my flesh,
my bones, the dreams
into which I situate my organs.
I am no better than you,
only different.

Photo Challenge #154 and Wordle #144


My blood caramelizes
under the swelter
of an implausible embrace.
Drenched in tears
as wide and iridescent
as dragonfly wings
I blunder without collapse.

Will you enter me thus,
flawed and apotropaic?
I have abandoned the war,
the constant need
to justify my difference.
I am good enough.

My sceleras curdle
under the intensity
of a protracted gaze.
The lucida beckons
from beneath a welling
of lovesick clouds
and among them
I count not a single sheep.

My feathers droop
mired in my own
intransigent and primordial urges.
The shadows grind and grimace
against a backdrop of emaciated trees.
Where is my annus mirabilis
my bald and unsubstantiated truth?


Can Pekdemir

Photo Challenge #137


I cannot abide your wickedness
presumed or otherwise.
Starving children
held captive behind four walls
and a vindictive sneer.

I do not remember you
for we have never met
but I have feared you,
the intimations of abuse.

Against what sins does her hysteria preach?
She never recovered from her childhood,
she never spoke of it, only to say
that the scars were fresh and deep
and that no amount of stitching or simulating
would ever render her complete.

3 Prompts

A Red Shoes Adventure by Zvaella


She moves like winter

With kisses that burn as an open flame

And eyes like untempered strips of lighting.

She pauses to adjust the strap

Of her red Mary Janes, a cloud tucked

Into her right back pocket like a memo.

Her cold escapes me whenever she smiles.

The sun riven over a cup of tea

I watch her rise up on her toes

Drawing sparks from my grey eyes,

Sparks governed by rain,

Sparks that slash without remorse

My faltering pretensions of joy.

She stood a long time

On my shoulders, jaded

Self-satisfying, demolishing

Passageways and intersections

My beloved and besieged

My uncompromising mistress

Delilah or Evangeline

Whatever her name

The dilemma remains.





Photo Challenge #55, Storm, April 07, 2015

Storm By Kimeajam1

Photo Credits: Kimerajam

Deliver me from these

Self-aggrandizing hormones

From the oneiric waves

Of what might have been

If only you had been

A different sort of man.

Fairytales are not only

For the meek

They’re for anyone

Who has the temerity

Of their failings.


Defiant despite the storm

I won’t be measured

By your ideals.

Another shallow refrain

I won’t be held hostage

By the weather-vane

Inside your chest.

I never wept so hard

That I broke my ribs.

Hell is always deeper

Than our darkest days.


Only a virgin could

Fall so hard

That they could never be

Dug out again.

When there’s no paper left

I’ll carve directly into my spine

My voice is the storm

And you my hapless sparrow

Will never know

How this story ends.


I went for an adolescent approach on this one even listened to a song from the key time to try to recreate what is a fictional poem in the end lol


Photo Challenge #54, March 31, 2015

Escape Childhood Holunda

Image Credits: Holunder @

A swaddling of paper cranes

Drenched in motes

Of ineffable dust and radiation.

She waits, a song flexing

Between pursed lips.


Sadness is hard to fathom

On days such as this

And yet tentative screams

Still peel from her eyes

Whenever he anoints her.


I am not a child she chides

The curtains billowing

Around her as an ineffectual mother.

I have mendings to make,

Fugitive scars that grasp

For furtive straws.


I know what I ought to do

But the others are so impertinent

Their questions are a barrier

That I cannot breach.

So long as love is erstwhile

Where am I to being?


A transparent radius,

A single tear can encapsulate

Infinite totalities

Madness cannot recognize itself

For its acquisition bends,

Inextricably, all incoming light.



I really love this picture, I looked at this morning before leaving and then in the library I tried to recall the impression in this poem.

Photo Challenge #18 “Strings Attached”


Kiyo Murakami

I wanted then to be

Tongue-less, finger-less

That I could not speak

That you’d be left

With only my eyes

For company

And my smile swinging

Off the hinges

Like a thrown door


I don’t have youth

As an excuse anymore

The freedom to fail

Without collateral

The luxury of spare parts

Now I wait behind mirrors

Collecting reservations

Wondering if today

I’ll unravel entirely


longWalkDetailsTom Bagshaw

When I was a child

My eyes saw only

That which my heart

Could freely replicate

A truth tenaciously insular

In each wound divinity

Every soul amendable

Salt fell freely

In the excavation

Of pearls

Even when downtrodden

Hope gathered unseen


When I was an adolescent

I thought myself an expert

On human nature

I knew the misgivings of saints

The black mask of the hero

Who craves blood and nepenthe

In equivalent measure

I paraded myself as a sage

Eyes a platform

For causes unknown


As a woman I lose at times

My confidence in humanity

I find conspiracies burgeoning

From the most inane protests

There’s too much death within

A stars ejaculate for my dreams

To ignite on wishes alone

And I resent most of all

My profound cowardice


Today I found it very challenging to write