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A seasoned poet realizes
Through embellished disguises
Marked by complexity
Driven by calculated uniformity
Filled with minute details
evaluate while riding the rails
The goal is to work hard to achieve
A story poem believably perceived

To exaggerate a structured process made
Is when vivid imagery fades
Interesting concepts inevitably played
Muddy clarification  pictures portrayed
Without stress comes blessed
Fantastic lines flourishes
As words nourishes our souls

We build organic sentence structure
from simple ingredients.
Adjectives provide ample sustenance.
As the art of the story is told
embellishments never grow old

Usually, a poet will know
When they’re on a roll
A smile concluded at the end
For a poet, it’s easy to pretend

When did embellishments become bigger than life?
Every subject kernels of nuggets of human strife
With twists and turns as the poet’s story jack knifes
Yet Never seems too deep as they grow old
A well planned story for told

A poet strives for elusive perfection ,
Avoiding at all cost negative rejection
Finding their self in their written word
Their true voice even IF the topic is absurd

Vivid imagery shows leaps and bounds
When a story read out loud has perfect sound
With a basic premise solid as the ground
Fluidity in motion can be found

Their poetry gift establishes imagination
Only limited by their lexicon, word creation 
power required to overcome friction
and the inertia of the moving parts proper diction 

Spy a girl cross the sea
Come sailing with me
Simply beautiful let it be
The love, we will create
Finding our soulmate

My sail boat
roams restless
upon the ocean
Smooth sailing
Poetry in motion

Inspired song
1) Come Sail Away
By Styx 1977

2) Sail Away
By The Oak Ridge Boys 1979
BLT Webster’s Word of the day challenge
August 13, 2025 calculated
Calculus refers to an advanced branch of mathematic that details, mostly the rates and changes of finding links area and volume
The age of 12
I made my first Afghan 276 squares.
Grannies taught me their wears
Gave me scraps and skeins
My Love of crochet remains

Crochet a single thread
A blanket Afghan to warm a bed
One of a kind originals custom made
Top grade yarn does not fade

They taught me a single stitch.
50 years later, I have found my niche.
Double crochet I’m on my way
All the other stitches were child’s play

Crochet a single stitch
Learn the tension know the pitch

I can look at any picture and make it
Original item sight unseen
Creative licensure if you know what I mean

Crochet matrix, I see in my dreams
Counting the stitches, blocking the seams
Crochet a single thread and hook
I taught myself how to read a pattern book

The vast Spectrum of colors to the naked eye
The beauty so vibrant it can make me cry
Passion is not skin deep
Much deeper into the psychic crochet creeps

Color dances in the light
Competing colors dual a fight
Those are the colors that don’t seem quite right
The color wheel never lies
Crazy color matches defy

Color never silent, has much to say
Always willing to explore convey
Weather in the light of day
Or in the shadows of mutate Gray


A ball of yarn socks to ****
Crochet A single thread,
From a concepts in your head
Creativity, leaps, and bounds
Every color can be found

A sweater made commercial grade
Pieces measured pattern devised
Errors Correcting stitches revised
Coming together  before my eyes

Yarn by color in bins to keep out the dust
sit in the yarn room for inspiration a must
When the colors speak to me
I can set the pattern free

I am the opposite of hidebound
I am willing to try new concepts and ideas
to keep me fresh and relevant
That flexibility is heaven sent

When I can see the finished product in my head
Time to set out the colors on my bed

Littler pieces, a crocheted beanie hat
I make up as I go along.
I can finish a hat in 20 minutes
Approximately four to five country songs
It’s as simple as that

I have 125 finished hats
preparing for the Christmas season
Crocheting I don’t need a reason
But it helps

A  lap throw sofa blanket made in three days
The finish pattern will amaze
Im fast and I make a product that will last.
My crocheted items are made with love
because my talent is a gift from up above



BLT Webster’s Word of the day challenge
August 10
Hidebound
Someone or something described as hidebound is inflexible and unwilling to accept new or different ideas


Inspired songs
Somewhere over the rainbow by Judy Garland




Footnotes
I use crocheting to help alleviate my pain. If I’m hurting, I focus everything on the crochet stitch the line whatever it is. I’m working on finish this row put it all into the crochet preoccupy myself. I’ve done that for many years. That’s why I’m so fast
dealing with the pain is a preoccupation.. If you’re gonna be hurting when you’re sitting down, you might as well be up and walking around preoccupy your time until the pain will let you go.
It really gets me going to have a finish item that I would like to keep for myself. That’s how much I like it then I know I have a good product. It’s really hard for me to finish an item that somebody wants that is really ugly lol but the customer is always right. It’s hard for me to get excited about somebody else’s creation. I keep coming up with something new something fresh something different. It might be the same pattern and different colors but every pattern I have is an original in mine. The trim from this blanket the center of that blanket. I’ve even used modified lace doilies pattern and made them into a blanket. It came out fantastic. A lot of work, but it was worth it. Some blankets are so intricate. I wouldn’t do them again. I like taking baby blankets and making them when you’re watching TV and you don’t need a whole heavy blanket. You just need a lap throw perfect.
I chose the song somewhere over the rainbow because of the rainbow of colors
be ever gentle to thy words
treat them, your tools, well,
cleansing and protecting,
wrapping them in cloths of chamois and moleskin
that they may be well conditioned and
pour forth with a temperament clear and viscous,
reflecting their high honors and a noble lineage,
they are well-intentioned to exist far longer
than your meager temporal life,
upon this ever hasty, ever perpetual, orbit

give them all respect, their fair due,
they are treasure immeasurable,
for which you have been granted guardianship,
custody received from others to be gifted onwards,
yours, but for the duration

so oft we trifle words,
expel them from the country of our body,
without passport and earnestness,
as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler,
day tourists, to be treated as leavings,
refuse for daily discardation,
barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance,
but leaving not, a mark of distinction

more truffle than trifle,
find them in the dark forest of your life,
use them sparingly, just for soaring,
take them from the roots of your trees,
shave them with a paring knife,
counts them in bites and measure them in grams,
even in grains,
for words are the seasoning of our lives,
agent provacateurs that can modify the moment,
bringing out to the fore
the flavor of the underlying

speak them slow and distinct,
for they arrive slow to you,
a trickling of refugees for your sheltering,
harbor them as full companions,
protected by natural law,
provision them well,
prepared and ever ready for a quick departure,
moor them at the embarcadero,
for the next restless leg of endlessness,
which they themselves will inform you
will last longer than eternity,
long after there are no humans to speak them
Oct. 6, 2015
4:30am
Manhattan Island
Yesterday
while walking my dog
At the park
I saw a tall drink of water
A Winsome man who put us at ease
He’s saying his music to the air in trees
A genuine cowboy
From head to toe,

A cowboy hat, boots,Wrangler jeans
a rodeo belt buckle
Gave me a chuckle he sat
in a chair under a yonder, shade tree,
I saw him before he saw me

I mention if he sat there long enough,
He just might see
Eagles, hawks and a vultures or two
His slow reply
“ all I’ve seen so far
is a dog I once knew”

Lean back in his chair,
relaxing there contemplating
the morning view 7:42 am
By the time we finish our walk,
he was gone his melody, his song
still linger from the tips of his fingers

Today, sitting on a picnic table
The cowboy young and able
guitar in hand singing his music, he took a stand
(sundown by Gordon Lightfoot 1974)
“Strumming my face with his fingers
Singing in my whole life with this song”
like he was part of a country band

The minute we got out of the car he stopped,
Pulled his guitar down
I smiled when I spoke half in a joke
I had hoped  for a serenader or two
He looked up
Tipped his hat with a gleam in his eye
You were were you
as we walked by

Halfway down the trail,
I can hear him
strumming his guitar had much to say
Not singing just playing away

The soothing country, music,
gracefully in the air
birds, squirrels,  deer
Far and near
animals big and small everywhere paused
Ears went up twitching animals in awe
for a moment
to take in the one man band
As more people arrived for their daily walkabout

Simply honest, not to deceive
The cowboy quietly got up to leave
A Solitary man


Inspired song

1)Solitary man  (April 1966)
By Neil Diamond

2)Killing me softly 1973
By Roberta Flack

BLT Webster’s Word of the day challenge
Winsome  8-8-25
Windsome describes people and things that are cheerful, pleasant, and appealing
I started this poem  July 7 2025
It sat in my draft mode until tonight‘s word of the day challenge

There are all types of people at this park. It’s tucked away and just away out of the main thoroughfare with a forest of trees surrounding the grassy knoll, a large soccer field has a pathway around it for dogs and people to stretch their legs.
  Aug 7 CJ Sutherland
Asuka
Under the sunlight, I am only a candle,
shaking in the arms of the slightest breeze.
It’s pretty—like youth they speak of in poems,
but it never lands the same on me.

Anger, comparison, insecurity—my heavy breath.
Tears and these headphones
are the only air I know how to breathe.

Loving myself—
harder than teaching fire to bow to the earth.
Gravity feels kinder than grace.

Yet in the caves where no one remembers the way,
I can still paint the dark in gold.
I can still make the cold feel warm.

I am needed.
I am loved.
Sometimes.

So tell me—
do I give my light to this moment,
spill every flame into the night,
or keep it sleeping in my chest,
fearing the day when morning arrives
with a sun too cruel to touch,
and a rain too tender to notice
when it drowns me?
"some lights aren’t afraid of darkness — just of running out."
do you
Wonder Why
it’s the negative things
we tend to believe
When people practice
to deceive

Nine people say
Something good
Yet we glam onto
The one negative
Whether we
Should

I’m a daft
Old cow
A fat sough
Plain Jane
Implications
Of a name

I never
Thought
I was
Something
I was
Not

Brow beat from
Head to my feet
I could never
Measure up
The pedestal
Is too steep

We are the worst critics
In a cynic world we create
We never give  
Ourselves a break
Go easy
For goodness sake

I was never one of the pretty people
Gilded Castle, Golden steeple
People in glass houses should never throw stones
Far Too much to atone
He who is without sin,
Cast the first stone

I’m A rough ragged Rock
With intentional purposeful refinement
Even while blemishes are detected
My inner self starting to show with no objective
Patient polish purposeful perfection
I became a brilliant diamond

Now I shine

I have grown in my reflection
No more negative rejection
Without stern objection
I’m No longer a whipping post
Live love, laugh Father Son Holy Ghost
Journey to self be a loving host

Inspired Songs;

1) Dream by Aerosmith 1973

2) I got a name by Jim Croce 1973

3) Be good to yourself by Frankie Miller 1977

4) Shining star by Earth, wind and fire 1975
This is one of the areas of grief I’m not sure which one. I’m just going with the flow working out the emotions best I know dealing with my brother’s death. He died July 15. We haven’t buried him yet. I haven’t let go. I think that shows. I’m going along having an OK day and a break out in tears not sure why the song I thought no reason at all really but every reason under the sun my emotional roller coaster has just begun I fear this might take a while I’ll put on a fake smile and Sam OK when it’s really not that way
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