#fixed verse

I climb the oak and hide from all For here I think not one will seek, Yet as I weigh my futures bleak She offers me her hand so small.

I keep on blinking both my eyes; She giggles at my disbelief, And when I blurt out hows and whys She offers me her hand so small.

Upon the pitfall of my grief She stands, nigh weightless and aglow. So small, yet strong; she lifts my palm, And if I want to, we can go.

I blink and come undone in calm; She offers me her hand.

if my wellbeing wasn’t at stake?

Do you really want me there

Or is that just for my sake?

It’s my feelings you try to spare

But it’s still some kind of ache

I know you do it because you care

But still here i lie awake

Wondering if i’m what you choose

Or what you have to partake

Does my presence add to your views

There are no dreams to bridge this fever

no visions and no words, no writing, no escape

exhausted hands' grip grows feebler

the more I try to capture thoughts before they dissipate

when you shed light in, this dark hole's painted with nail marks

from me trying to climb out so many times to no avail

half alive while the sun echoes children's cries

Choose one of the following options, or tackle all of them! Submissions will be accepted throughout the month of June 2021.

Option 1:

Subject: Orphic Form: Free verse Additional rules: Use the word “orphic” in your writing.

Option 2: 

Subject: Dream woven liaisons Form: Shakespearean sonnet Additional rules: Refrain from using the pronouns: I, Me, My, Mine, Myself.

Option 3:

Subject: Nature Form: Rondeau Additional rules: Write about nature in the purest sense. Refrain from staging humans, including yourself, or humanizing your subject matter.

In wine and thunder, we dismay the silence — As if unspoken sentiment could never be as true; Yet in such moments, the two are an alliance. Through tar and mortar, a molten-burnt defiance, Etched handprints bear a nostalgic hue; As in wine and thunder we dismay, the silence Instills a rather decrepit, still compliance That bludgeons a breath, turns sound blue, But in such moments, the two are an alliance. In echoes of distant, shattered violence We tarry, from wraiths and shades that we still rue; Yet, in wine and thunder, we dismay the silence. Dissidents of a crooked science Our voices are both silent and ring anew, And, in such moments, the two are an alliance. Upon a rather vague reliance On thoughts deemed lowly and untrue, In wine and thunder, we dismay the silence, Within such moments, the two are an alliance.

~~Shout out to my girl @highqueenofelfhame for helping me push through this rough patch as of late as inspiring me to write about things again. I miss you more than you know, dearie. ~~

Here is a Petrarchan Sonnet I wrote last night with no fixed meter. Hope you enjoy!

You enter my mind so often that it’s become a nuisance.

You’re constant rain inside my brain.

The eye of a hurricane.

Once a silver lining shiny with translucence-

You’re clouding everything up like pollution.

Spinning, confused, swinging to and fro like a broken weather vane,

I question what I can salvage of the old me; try to figure out how much of her remains.

I used umbrellas to shield me from your storm, but I know it’s just useless.

I’m always listening for your oncoming rumble now, like the sound of summer thunder.

I wait for you like counting on lightning to strike.

But through darkened clouds is the peeking promise of afterglow.

Puddles full of your murky mud begin to glitter with prisms of wonder.

Beams of moonlight paint their surface swirls of impressionist colors, like an artist’s palette brought to life.

Promising me the bright, hopeful breakthrough of a technicolor rainbow.

Stumble on the words you try to say Mumble over your voice at unease But do not let your thoughts fade away Or they might be captured at first catch No other words might be here to stay If they are held back by sand barriers Placed by the scarce remains of the day Weathered as time comes to pass and cease Yet, let your speeches may guide the way