Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Aug 27 Renee C
Malcolm
Life is short, this is true
remember that.
Yet it’s the longest road
you will ever walk.
Find someone to walk beside you;
nobody is perfect,
but it is better to walk alone,
even in the wrong direction,
than with the wrong person.

Many lessons I’ve learnt,
some I’ve misplaced,
others I’ve forgotten.
But one remains,
like spirals in the sands of my mind,
like truth carved deep in my soul:
there is nothing more lonely
than spending your life
loving someone
who did not love you back,
or at all.
All the possibilities passed by
while you held their hand
and the lies you whispered to yourself,
“It will change,
there is time”
becoming a prison
you built with your own hope.

Time is not the enemy.
It never was.
It is the choices,
the unspoken ones,
the moments forgotten.
It is the blindness we wear,
the mask that hides
what mattered most.

Not knowing which seconds
to hold forever,
not knowing which to release,
like moments slipping
through weary hands.
I wish I had known then
which were the ones to cherish
not now,
digging through scattered thoughts,
scratching at shadows
to piece together
what was,
and what was not.

The people I saw,
the hands I shook,
the embraces I shared
had I known
this was the last time
we would stand together in a moment,
I might have held on longer.
I might have breathed it in deeper,
honored the minute
a little more.

I could craft a metaphor,
a clever disguise,
to polish this into poetry.
But these tears, this trembling,
falling as I let go
of what I carried too long

this is already a poem.
And it is more
than enough.
25 August 2025
Odd Thoughts and something
Copyright Malcolm Gladwin
 Aug 25 Renee C
Madeline Lee
Raindrop gliding down
to the nape of the neck,
through the valley of the bone,
climbing up the mountain’s peak
where the wave crash, rivers flow.

Heavy dews flood the estuary
steady up your dinghy—
the tide’s high, dive in deep.
Reach the shore, hear the siren’s call;
That’s the nature’s beauty… are you ready for more
I have smoked cigars in so many strange and improbable places that it would make a travel guide blush. Once, on a Mississippi riverboat, I shared a Havana with a man who claimed he had once dined with Napoleon—though I suspect he had only dined on Napoleon brand pastries.


The cigar, in such circumstances, became a confidant, for it listened without comment while my companion exaggerated his exploits. I puffed discreetly and wondered if smoke could mask fibs.


I once lit a fine cigar in a hotel lobby in New Orleans, only to have the clerk inform me that smoking indoors was forbidden. I protested that the cigar was innocent of any wrongdoing; he suggested I resign it to the street, where it might join the other tobacco exiles.


On another occasion, I shared a modest cigar with a pair of river pilots, who puffed vigorously and insisted that the smoke added flavor to their coffee. I suspect they were merely trying to intimidate the steamboat rats.


I have observed, with amusement, that some men smoke cigars to demonstrate wealth rather than taste. One such gentleman purchased a brand so expensive that I feared the cost would give him a coronary before the first puff.


To his surprise, the cigar was weak and watery, and he turned to me with a look of betrayal. I suggested, gently, that fortune sometimes errs in matters of tobacco.


There are, of course, men who should not smoke at all. I once shared a room with a fellow who coughed so violently that the smoke would have been lost in a hurricane. He persisted, convinced that effort alone conferred dignity.


I have smoked cigars while fishing, and found that the aroma mingles quite well with the Mississippi mud. One might even say the trout are flattered by the scent, though I suspect they would prefer bait over bouquet.


There is a story I must tell of a banquet in London, where I was seated next to a man who insisted on lighting cigars beneath the chandeliers. One spark descended upon the tablecloth, igniting a napkin in a most alarming fashion.


I managed to save the dessert, and the man saved face, though the waiters did not speak to him again for the rest of the evening.


I have smoked cigars in the company of poets, who muttered about “the divine inspiration of the leaf.” I do not doubt their devotion, though I suspect their verses would have been just as divine without the smoke.

In contrast, I have smoked with cardsharps who swore by cigars as tools of intimidation. They waved the stubs like sabers and puffed smoke in the eyes of opponents, which I consider a most ingenious form of distraction.

There is a kind of joy in observing a fine cigar struggle against a man’s clumsiness. I once handed a cigar to a friend who proceeded to drop it in his soup, to my enduring amusement.


The flavors of cigars are as varied as men themselves. There are earthy cigars, spicy cigars, sweet cigars, and those that taste of nothing but disappointment. One must experiment to discover which suits the moment.


I have learned that a cigar is best enjoyed slowly, with patience and reflection. Hasty smoking results in frustration, and one risks becoming a parody of sophistication rather than a participant in it.


I once attended a literary club where the smoke hung so thick that I could barely read the invitations. One member, a devout teetotaler and anti-smoker, claimed that my puffing was morally offensive. I replied that my moral offense was minimal compared to his opinions.


I have smoked in trains and in hotels, on stages and riverbanks, and have discovered that the cigar lends courage to the timid, patience to the hasty, and modesty to the overconfident.


I have known men who bought cigars with the hope of appearing sophisticated, only to cough themselves into humility before the first puff. A good cigar cannot be faked, though many try.


I have smoked cigars while dictating letters, and once nearly set my manuscript aflame when a spark leapt onto the paper. I learned then that cigars, like life, require vigilance.


There is a small delight in sharing a cigar with a stranger, for the tobacco is a universal language. I have conversed with men who spoke no English, yet the mutual respect for the cigar created understanding.


I have smoked cigars in the mountains of Virginia, where the air was thin and crisp. I noticed that the smoke curls differently in altitude, forming spirals that seem almost alive.


Once, I smoked with a man who insisted that the higher the price, the better the cigar. I allowed him to purchase the finest leaf in the shop; he promptly sneezed himself into obscurity, and I found greater pleasure in a modest, honest stub.


I have smoked in the company of women who enjoy the spectacle of a gentleman at leisure, though they seldom partake themselves. Their applause is often more gratifying than the cigar itself.


I once smoked a particularly pungent cigar in a crowded café in Paris. It was so potent that the waiter fainted, and the patrons fled. I alone remained, puffing serenely, and felt a certain pride in my endurance.


I have smoked with men who argue that cigars enhance intellect. I argue that they enhance reflection, patience, and occasionally courage, but never logic.

I have encountered cigars that are deceptively small, yet mighty in strength. They remind me that appearances can be misleading, both in tobacco and in life.


I have smoked with children observing from a distance, and I have smiled to see the awe in their eyes. I tell them, gently, that cigars are not toys, and some things are best left to maturity.


The ritual of cutting, lighting, and smoking is nearly as pleasurable as the cigar itself. A man who rushes this process is doomed to disappointment.


I once shared a cigar with a man who claimed he could smoke without inhaling. He coughed himself into a chair and learned humility, and I learned amusement.


I have known cigars to be companions in sorrow, celebrations, and quiet contemplation. They are remarkably adaptable to human emotion.


I have smoked in foreign lands where no man knew my name, yet the cigar allowed instant fraternity. There is a diplomacy in tobacco that surpasses many treaties.


I have seen men destroy a cigar by carelessness, and I have seen a man elevate a humble stub to artistry by patience and respect.


I have smoked cigars in libraries, where one must be discreet, and in smoky dens, where discretion is impossible. Both have their lessons.


I have argued with friends over which cigars are best, and concluded that argument is as futile as attempting to measure the Mississippi with a teacup.


In conclusion, let a man smoke wisely, moderately, and with reverence. Let him know the cigar is both pleasure and teacher, and let him remember that not all men—or all cigars—are fit for every occasion.
Fly away black bird, perhaps you'll encounter a carcass or someone kind will offer it to you.

You'll hide in the dry bushes with food, Your black feathers will flutter in the wind, satisfied and full, your body will heavily descend again to the ground.
 Aug 23 Renee C
Leo Barclay
Come on honey, let’s look at the flashing lights together

I wish I did this earlier
I can feel the squeeze,
I think of you in Brighton,
This city never puts me at ease

Give me soothers,
Don’t forget I think of you
I’m not gonna stop doing it
All the others can’t give me credit
They couldn’t know in lieu

February’s tides crashed louder
For that record you gave in apology
I don’t want to remember what it’s for
If you ever sought forgiveness
Needn’t try; I live now for you to recluse closely

We weren’t that good were we?
Yet I want to be better
Just find me soon
I’ve missed you forever

Blue eyes at breakfast,
Peach fuzz on my pillow
The hair in my jumpers,
Just to end in struggle

It all ended whilst we were both lying
Picture what I am no longer realising
I ****** it all off for a breath;
Just to collapse at your beautiful edge.
 Aug 23 Renee C
Jace Albine
Like all the coins

Tossed into a wishing well

Adding up

To all the belief

That went unfilled
I still like to think

That maybe someday

We are all listening

Not just to ourselves

But to every one else

That ever wished well
Films to keep you watching
pills to keep you in
alcohol to keep you doped up
where the hell do we begin?

Coshes are available

but self medication is the brute
that digs down to the root
and puts the cyanide deep inside
ain't that the frickin' truth.

Climbing out
what's that about?
when it's comforting to know
that down inside we're safe and warm
why the *** would we want to go?

easy come and get one set them free
no one understands what it is to be
someone just like you or me,

oh
sing that song
sad *******, but it won't be long
you
just got to wait a mile or two.

takes the statement
last testament
no win no fee
set me free
no one understands

and that
includes me.
 Aug 23 Renee C
Tyler
Untitled
 Aug 23 Renee C
Tyler
"I always wonder what the reward is for hard work
Until I get to the place
where I can tell
It always fascinates me
How different a revival can be

In my dreams we converse on some sort of magnitude in community

It's like we are all friends in a field
Slipping past eachother by accident

We all try to play by the rules but I could never understand it too consciously.

What I'm trying to say- errrr..
I guess I'm not 'trying' to say anything.

It's about as early in the morning as it can get and I've awoken too much now to see clearly.

I guess if there were a point to this it'd be that I think everyone's coming around, atleast to something good- I'd like to atleast think so.

Soooo I'm happy about that ! To say the least. It's nice to think some normalcy and goodness is being fostered.

To you and only you, I'm glad we are in a relationship- I think we are trying to understand eachother as best we can and I value and love that we trust eachother. I've enjoyed all these sides of you sweetheart and I think you are consciously allowing me the space to make my dreams a reality. I'm content. As much as its a fun challenge to understand eachother or even our own selves. I believe we come out on top; right in the end. I love you !

Thanks for reading my little poem after having some interesting dreams"
 Aug 13 Renee C
kevin
The Oxnard building I walk to
Mira says little
The milk of the city turns the dust all day at miras building
The food cart does not show

I walk back the vineyards to the thousand oaks building

Powdered milk prayers
We cannot enter the building
Complete in its abandon from duty, service and allegiance and labor everyway no calls, no lifeline tents in the thousand oaks eye soar.

My tio tells me no awuacates, awuacates!

This is not the internet homekey +

This is our apartment building examination of broken laws


This is our apartment building examination of broken laws
#lapdcentral #lapdhq #mikeytaylor #parisjackson #kendricklamar #kendalljenner #jennahaze #realdonaldtrump #cagovernor #meganhenderso

Lifeline FCC distribution violations in thousand oaks California

No competent

Tambien negra, empanadas in San Fernando valley today?
Palabra Casino
No competent sun rises in my pockets

I will not make it to the Argentina market today mi amor
Te amo

Igualamente street
State the street good to me shoes

The wayside? Mario Benedetti again!
No te salvo

Miguel Angel sola

Jenna better

Kendall, the way of hanging us in our day labors you

Chingon!
Chicana zen
I rest with my hat

Hispanic coalition Angeles los Angeles
Hud

Hispanic coalition Angeles los Angeles
Hud
#meganhenderson #nytimes #rupikaur

Not before the coalition rises to meet with me

Ventura basillica Jenna
These marsh lands I build for you

Catholic charities of Ventura los Angeles incorporated

Entity injury attorney at what law keyboard documents

No lobby no lobby
No home
Bueno

Strange fruit
Billie Holliday

One hour of labor to correct violations of federal law

Los Angeles nightlife
Show business over budget
Indolvent

The national guard cannot here the vocabulary building of corruption
Turn no profit
Push potatoes

Como,  no accent, no doing documents

Grass roots army water rights
Code violations
He will respond to
Are we able so and do this
So and so this
I can do this "engineering requisition area of speech for this inspection"

I am a NASA military engineering research assistant

You get one hour of our ear get engineering to these orders

What do you wanna know
You have to follow my orders or prison

My president has his engineering contractors license

I'm his antenna sat coms devs from japan

Vanderbilt Carnegie steel partners
Ship yards people not lawyers
Real estate recruitment
Piza is leaning

Tambien flash firmware  kits
Elementary os mod1
Don't call on click agency
.mil a quartermaster
Have a penny for Lou Adler boys

I ain't gonna bend again billie

First run at lovely
"It's quite a pretty hell,
quite a pretty hell,"

said the wilting woman
to her plastic window self,

a half-tint fetch, etched
in the eye of the weevil

threading the black dough
of the crosstown bus route.

The nightclubbers behind her
exchange glances and hold hands

as she begins to hum to herself,
but the unvarnished melody

lodges in an angle of odd brain
& soon I'm humming it too

as I step into 18th Street's maw,
already bristling neon sweet

with milkmaid dress hems
threshing ruptured doorsteps -

turning up my street I catch
a last sight of the shushed bus husk

crawling away northwards
with only a scratching hum inside

for its heartbeat, and a face lost
in the catacomb of its reflection.
Next page