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 Oct 12 Lux
Jill
Mimosa pudica retreat
Humid glasshouse, rainy day
Pane-separated from the world
Exhaling foggy vagueness
Colours run wet
World through window walls,
a distorted Monet reproduction
Morphing, mixing, mushy
Each canvas exists for a sliding second
Glass and breath
Collaborating through condensation
Our fuzzy-haze masterwork

Panoramic gossamer lens
Magically softens
spiky, scratchy, sharp, crispness
into a smudgy simulacrum
A kind deceit
Frowns, scowls, growls,
and bared-toothy rage,
all smeared
Gently redacted
Calm, dreamy, pillowscape broadcast
Impressionist buffer
In muted pastels

Reality in artful disguise
Remoulded for ease of consumption
Sugary spoonful of subterfuge
Sifting, sorting, selective
Incomplete and fragmentary
Blur-clouded brain-break
Intermittent extra distance
Breath-focused,
soupy-warm,
momentary masterpiece
Just for me
Until my leaves unfurl
©2024

BLT Webster’s Word of the Day challenge (gossamer) date 4th October 2024. Very light or delicate.

Mimosa pudica is a small shrub, often referred to as the Sensitive Plant, the Shameful Plant, or the Touch-me-not Plant. The leaves curl up when touched.
 Oct 12 Lux
Jill
We ask wild feats of writers
Unselfish word-bleeders
For work that is numinous
Words for joy, laughs, and weeping
Us hungry feel-feeders
Eat verses voluminous

We absorb works in moments
They divest force in phrase
Emotion frames numerous
Words for light, love, and darkness
Channels hours and days
Air-weightless and luminous

We call comedy writers
Carefully humorous
Use joking for distance
Words for howls, roars, and giggles
Sweet-flavours existence
From bitters that ruin us

We challenge dear writers
To capture the cumulous
Joyful, enlightening
Words for life, growth, and knowledge
Anxious, heart-tightening
Funny or humourless
Instructions in humanness
©2024

BLT Webster’s Word of the Day challenge (numinous) date 10th October 2024. Describes things that have a mysterious or spiritual quality.
 Oct 12 Lux
Jill
Travel free my inner scapegoat
You’re liberated, off this hook
No more shame-horned
Guilt-stomached dread,
       scarce enough to wrong-bare
Not startle-sneezed or tremble-shook

I excise redundant remnants
Bad wattle glands where crime hangs large
Not Billie-blame,
Nanny-regret
       or just a wrongless kid
No fair-trial felon, biased charge

Imagine dropping heavy torts
The solid clunk as fault hits floor
Past carried light
Kind compassion
       wide enough to weight-bare
Rich mixed plant pasture evermore
An end to serveless inner war
©2024

BLT Webster’s Word of the Day challenge (scapegoat) date 11th October 2024. A scapegoat is a person who is unfairly blamed for something others have done.
 Aug 2023 Lux
Lundy
I remember our first conversation. We talked about mermaids.  You made a joke about sea foam, I was intrigued.

I remember you asking me out the first time. And I remember telling you I didn't think you were ready.
You lashed out. I was freaked out.

I remember you leaving without any warning. You decided you needed a change, dropped out of all your classes and hit the road.  For 6 months you sent me pictures of campsites. Pictures of elk and bear you'd shared sunsets with. Pictures of you next to cliffs you'd scaled.  Via texts you recouned a story of how you'd climbed a mountain just to find reception to call your ex. I remember wondering why you would tell me that? I felt slightly jealous. It turned me off. I remember you complaining to me that she was a "feminist" I said "Good for her." We both should have known then.

I remember sending you Gloria Steinem quotes with every campsite picture you offered. On your way back to California,  you asked to see me again.

I remember our first date, and how you asked if you could kiss me. I offered you my cheek, and later that night I couldn't stop thinking of your lips. You texted me that you wanted more. I remember touching myself as I fell asleep.

I remember you telling me you would die for me.  Laughing I told you, "That's so dramatic." You smiled confidently and told me you loved me. I said it back. We were watching 28 Days Later. I remember thinking we were so lucky.  

I remember building a bed out of blankets and pillows on our empty apartment floor. I remember countless trips to the hardware store, we were determined to build our own furniture.  I remember planting a garden, and proudly harvesting the garden. I remember frequent candle lit dinners. I remember your hands traveling up my skirt as I poured you more wine. I remember I wasn't wearing underwear. I remember us spilling the wine.

I remember telling you that you were my bestfriend. I remember pretending to be okay when you told me you already had a bestfriend and a soulmate  but that I could be your wife.

I remember the first time you hurt me. You regretted it immediately. Held my face in your hands I remember you kissed my cheek, again.  I still trusted you.

I remember the first time I hurt you. My off-white satin dress reflecting the moon. My animosity verbal daggers, I was so ****** I forgot to be ashamed. Sometimes I still forget.

I remember you telling me that I will never be your priority. I remember transfering money into your bank account. Weekly. I remember working 12 hours and coming home to give you head. I remember falling asleep on your chest as you massaged my neck. I remember thinking that was love.

I remember finding women's underwear in our laundry. An earring in our bedroom, and butterly hair clips in your car. I remember not believing you when you told me they were your sisters. I remember letting it go.

I remember that time you threw me against the dresser. I remember you telling me it was my fault. I remember letting it go.

I remember with you I had found a sister and a mother. I remember realizing these women I loved were victims of abuse. Belittled and silenced. I remember realizing I was a  victum of abuse. Belittled and silenced. I remember being disgusted with myself. I still wanted you.

I remember you calling me abusive. And you were right, I had changed.  "A cornered dog may cower, or it may bite." Our therapist had said. Do you see any of that now? Do you see how bruised I was?


I remember almost getting murded. And how much I struggled to feel alive after. I remember asking you for help. You told me it's not your responsibility.  

I remember the anguish.  I remember thinking about suicide. I remember telling you I didn't know how to survive. I remember you telling me I was weak. I remember behaving, feeling, like my mother.

I remember you hovering over me. Intimidating me. I remember telling you to step back. I stood on my tippy toes to look big too. And when you didn't back down, I chest bumped you. I remember you weren't sure if you should laugh or fight. I remember you telling me you didn't love me anymore and you hadn't for some time. The next morning I woke you up with my mouth on you.

I remember you leaving me. I stood in the doorway and promised myself I would not beg. I let you walk away. An hour later you returned, but not for me. It was never me. You took your gun and video games and again I stood at the door. This time I begged you to stay. I remember you walking away. I remember our dreams. I remember understanding that I was ******* done.

I remember packing under a THC haze. I remember leaving my lingerie for you to find in our closet.  In your closet. The black one with the garter belt on display. I remember Bodie having diarrhea on the carpet. I left it there. I also left you with enough money for two months rent. I remember you texting me telling me I owed you more.

I remember the day I ran out of clean underwear. I was late for work and so I wore your sisters, or were they your ******? They fit comfortably. I felt sick. I ***** called my neighbor when I got off work. I remember opening wine at 3am and doing everything to him that you used to ask me to do to you.

I remember you reaching out to me over some ******* excuse. I told you that you had already lost me but that wasn't yet true. I just had absolutely no faith left in you.

I remember that none of it was ever worth having you.
 Mar 2015 Lux
Scarlet Niamh
The hourglass runs out of sand,
So I flip it and watch the sand fall like liquid again.

Time brings order
To the wretched chaos of our universe.
It coats all things with a thick film
And paints life onto blank canvases.
Such a beautiful little thing, time is.

Dandelion hours float away on the wind,
And the everlasting cycle of time
Brings all things to their inevitable death
With breathtaking, morbid beauty.
 Dec 2014 Lux
Taylor
I listen to different music
I read different books
I dress in different clothes
But I still love you

I have different friends
I write different poems
I date different people
But I still love you

I wear different cologne
I draw with different mediums
I play different instruments
But I still love you

I’ve tried everything I could
Everything to change who I am

But

I’m still

falling

for you

I’m still yours
And it’s not fair
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