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I have known you as far as my memory goes.
I have observed you, watched you grow—
As I did too.

But I wonder why we never talked,
’Cause we never talked before,
Was all I could think back then.

And even now,
I think it’s still the same—
’Cause we never talked before,
And maybe… we never will.
I've been an introvert for as long as I can remember. This poem reflects on what could have been—how many connections I might have made if I’d just smiled and started a conversation. But that moment never arrived.
The soft wind brings resurrection,
as seeds crack the Earth's waking shell,
and she shrugs off her pale complexion,
while spring's mystery is dispelled.

Cherry blossoms break their silence,
pink confetti pirouettes on the breeze.
After months of cold defiance,
new leaves grace once barren trees.

In murky ponds, frogspawn transforms,
and tadpoles emerge to the spring light.
The weather warms from winter storms,
as days bask in the sun's delight.

This is nature's revolution,
Death in reverse, life is reborn.
In April's retribution,
Faith is restored, and hope adorns all.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Seven minutes in heaven
A game kids use to play
I got my turn one warm summer day
It was meant as a joke
Just kids being mean
Sweet Susie Cooper
When I was only thirteen
I felt sorry for her, locked in a closet with me
The geek, the dork, full of anxiety
Six long minutes together
Alone in the dark
Then from out of nowhere I felt a spark
Just before the door opened
Sweet Susie, She kissed me
And broke my heart
https://youtu.be/wikqtyeCLMs?feature=shared
this has been added to my you tube channel
copy and paste the link or search @tsummerspoetry on you tube.
Thanks.
Of all my travails
Tryouts, dry runs, and run-ins
This one changed my path

Tension, danger, tears
escapes, hijinks, burns, and blood
Love in there somewhere

Detailed and hazy
True and unreliable
Funny and awful

My event record
Muddy origin story
Memory-flashed tale

Told and re-told to others
To learn more about myself
©2025

BLT Webster’s Word of the Day challenge (travail) date 26 April 2025. Travail is a formal word, usually used in plural, that refers to a difficult experience or situation.
Empty wine glass
Stale pizza
Cold naked toes
Sun left me lightless

Fridge is road-trip distance
Further to the sock drawer
Light switch is moons away
Remote earns its name

Where is my alacrity,
my willingness,
my zeal?

I’ve misplaced all my fervour,
ardour,
gusto,
warmth,
and spark

My promptness
and avidity
are now in
blue lividity

No relish,
bright celerity,
or genial rapidity

Just me
and stale pizza
--lamenting

Gone too soon
My lost sparkle
©2025

BLT Webster’s Word of the Day challenge (alacrity) date 28 April 2025. Alacrity refers to a quick and cheerful readiness to do something.
Would tonight be a good
night

to go?

Bare Spring, buds and
daffodils.  Hasta’s shoulders
peek and I and my
friend share the
evenings
braille messages.

Our heart's alert ,
fingers reach,
Maybe tonight?

after you leave?

The rain begins.
Shares the drops with

tears.

And I look at the
empty bed.

Night Lights hang on
neon signs,

And the guitar sings
of blue beaches.

I want to leave but

quietly.

Saturday erupts .

It won't hurt…



Caroline Shank
May 2, 2025
Bright as you can
Imagine again.
Its easy,  just move along,

Sometimes you feel alone,
Easy shaky willow in the wind.

Here we are,
Lover, roots deep,
Easy as the
Trees.
Used in hundreds of recipes,
Blends with many dishes,
But retains its own taste.
It is positive,
Believes in itself,
And knows it's own value.
2/5/2025
It's not because you want it to
but time moves on
what can you do?

but move with it.

We watch the clock
the clock watches too
time moves on
what can you do?
There are no more heroes
Unless you're what the media wants
No more Sylvia's or Emily's
Never another Edgar, Whitman, or Frost!

I am but a drop in an ocean
My heart will stay stuck in my throat
Fame will only come upon my end!
The plight of a natural born poet

All we know is write, write, write!
Words that wont reach until our last breath
Must we exist in this silence while forced to be alive?
We'll never know who was saved from our death!

How terribly embarrassing!
Those who sit in a fluorescent white room
Being taught what we were born to know
To love, and write, and lose!
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