I walked down the old, sandy wooden steps to the beach I had been here decades before everything looked different but the smell was the same a salt that cleared the nose and spits in your face time and time again
I remembered the flashing lights reflected on the water all the good cheer the dream that this day will never end up before the sun patiently impatient the horizons are soon to reveal the truth
…but this Christmas I wanna die I’ve seen Satan and Jesus in a crimson-bloodied sky angel wings pummeling the city to dust
Shared with an AllPoetry.com contest by Bad Jonny, who gave us the italicised lines as starters. I decided to use both and link them. 30th Jan 2026 – Shared with dVerse OLN #400
Airs punctured by gasoline, a perfume of our cancers; shout out, the suffering scream louder than any answers.
Once unseen, I will surprise; smash me, I will not succumb; bitter salts anaesthetise, remaining forever numb.
Stagnant water starts to clear passing through old time’s filter; endlessly, year after year, re-righting the Earth’s kilter.
I meditate in silence, breathing calmly, taking stock; to counteract the violence, I am an island, a rock.
Submitted for a final AllPoetry assignment. I tried to incorporate the senses into this poem more than I would normally do. This whole poem is also inspired by an Alan Watts quote:
“As muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone, it could be argued that those who sit quietly and do nothing are making one of the best possible contributions to a world in turmoil.”
For the last line – apologies to Simon and Garfunkel.
Syllable count per line – quatrain : 7 Rhyme scheme: Quatrain – alternating rhyme and Cinquain Rhyme types: mostly perfect rhyme Personification: I am a rock! Senses: smell (gasoline/perfume), sound (shout/scream), sight (unseen) touch (smash me/numb), taste (bitter salts) Alliteration: shout/suffering/scream, any/answers, unseen/surprise/smash/succumb Assonance: shout out/louder, unseen/surprise/succumb, stagnant/starts, I/silence, meditate/in, counteract/the, am/an/a Consonance: salts anaesthetise, re-righting Metaphor/simile: The first stanza is a metaphor for the chaos of the world. ‘Once unseen’ – rocks are not something noticed but always there. ‘Bitter salts’ – lick a rock, it tastes salty. ‘Numb’ – rocks have no feelings. “passing through old time’s filter” – mineral water cleaned as it passes through rocks. “re-righting the Earth’s kilter” – no matter what mankind does, the Earth will sort itself out.
*Let’s gather our friends and make a storm, to a circle of dreams, surrendered. Our silhouettes in firelight perform; Are the dead glad to be remembered?
We live again in celebration, barreling through centuries of secrets. The rites of our reincarnation will render us forever sleepless.
We are the dragons of the mountains; we may be sleeping one thousand years, yet once drunk on youth from the fountains, we all become willing volunteers.
The dead are glad to be remembered by those of us creating the storm, when to all our dreams we surrendered; so they live on within us; reborn.
*I don’t think I wrote this line but, yet again, I forget where it came from. I often take notes of lines I like and come back to them much later. Sometimes I remember to put the source too. Sometimes not!
This poem was submitted to an AllPoetry assignment and was actually a bit of a struggle to write despite the assignment being based on rhyme, which is what am I most used to writing. Trying to include all the elements learned in the course so far sometimes makes me think too much about it and so I don’t get the flow that I would like.
I haven’t got feedback on this assignment as I write this but I’m guessing that they will respond that it’s not exactly clear what this poem is about, and that’s a fair enough assessment. To be honest, I had the first and fourth lines jotted down and then tried to write rhymes around them and see what came out of that as the subject.
It seems to be about remembrance and celebration of those who came before us. I was imagining tribal dances around fires at night and the myths we make in remembrance of our elders. Hopefully, that came through before you read this section!
Poetry is perfect for cliche It’s a better way To say what I want to say!
Sometimes a synonym will do It’s true! At least it’s been thought through
Rewriting what’s previously written I’m smitten With the hand already bitten!
No poems of autumn or spring So please bring Me less cliched words to sing!
Written for a task at AllPoetry.com in connection with cliche. Cliches are often useful, so long as they are not overused, and often express exactly what is required. For me though, I really don’t like cliched poetic topics like seasons or flowers, unless done really well and bringing a new dimension to the subject. I have a pet peeve with some words too but I can’t remember them now because as soon as I see them I click away from reading and forget about them immediately. Next time I see one, I want to try and understand why it is that I dislike it so much! I looked up synonyms of cliche to find bromide! Haha! Never used that word in my life.
Here’s the one perfecting the eight-liner Though some things must be said in twelve Only enjoying writing the rhymer And philosophy is the place to delve
Sometimes perfection is found in four The idea sublimely surmised Yet feeling obliged to write some more Until the eight lines are realised
Submitted as a task for AllPoetry’s ‘An Expression of Yourself’ course.
Don’t be Ordinary
This assignment is going to take you beyond your reaches. I want something that you can’t even fathom writing. Go beyond what you think is normal.
Write to be remembered. Don’t write like anyone else… Don’t blend in! It’s okay to be original and shocking. To stir the pot and to poke the balloon and deflate it. Shake things up. Make a name for yourself.
Write a poem that you would want to define your ability. A poem that is read and the person is like… that is “your name here”.
Don’t write a poem where it could be stirred into water and blended in with everyone else.
This was an interesting task. I can look at a couple of other poets who follow their own rules and can be identified by their poetry.
As I’ve been writing for 40 years or so I don’t feel that I have a particularly identifiable style, though now I’m thinking more about it.
I do have a preference of style for my own writing though so I submit the following for now.
I could break my preference (and do sometimes force myself with different forms) but not sure that I could ever reach writing something that I can’t myself fathom…..
Today I’m feeling:
A little sleep-in this morning was good, setting me up for the day.
After a simple yet delicious lunch, I dropped Amy off at the airport as she goes off to Bangkok for a couple of days to meet Fern and Pim.
I decided to take Baipad to practice driving a car, rather than a motorbike, as it’s too hot in the afternoon and she called Fahmai to come too.
We drove around near her house and then up at the Uni and they both did well for never having done it before.
Health:
Physical: 7 Mental: 8
Today I’m grateful for:
Finding old reviews of 2000AD issues that I’m reading now, which help me to understand some of the weirder stories. Excellent!
The best thing about today was:
Teaching the kids a little driving, because I could see the confidence in them both growing as they were learning.
Something I learned today?
The CIA posted on Twitter and Facebook, asking for Chinese citizens to become their spies. This was met with a lot of laughter on Chinese social media platforms.
Review your acts, Good and bad.
I messaged Baipad to ask how she felt after she did so well with driving and she replied, ‘I feel proud, I think.’ It’s a good start.
Baipad’s cat, Inky. He’s a very chatty cat when he’s awake.
1994ever 