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      FlatDaddy wrote a new post

      Dead Poet

      © 2026  Dead Poet   dirty crimson winterpoet takes an icy lane   more slippery than most   greybound skies soon splinterwith the echoes of her pain   the screaming of her ghost   we  could only watch thismany miles from where she lay ...

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      • This is a beautiful tribute, and I will follow your lead and write one in honor of her.

      • I’m sure Renee would approve of any kind word through verse from another poet. Nice tribute.

      • I think I see the changes. It’s a beautiful, yet powerful poem.

        • Thank you, Tim. I must say, with all that’s happening, I am exhausted. That’s not a complaint, just the effect of all this on my mind as much as my body; I’m getting too old to be even a word warrior, especially when I must be concerned for the safety of my family. I’ve been to several protests here in Austin, though it’s hard to get around even with a battery powered wheelchair. I don’t relish doing that when ice (water ice) comes to cover streets and sidewalks. And yes, that does happen here — snow sometimes, too. But ice of any kind is not welcome here. With Texas having a very large border that is NOT fenced off, and our very large migrant community, it’s a bit odd we’ve not been swamped by ICE or Border Control. But then, we’ve got a Republican governor. However, that may change soon, I think. And then what?

          • Getting old is no fun. I’m sorry to hear you’re confined to a wheel chair. That can’t be easy. As I’m getting older my eyes aren’t as good as they used to be, and these aches and pains in my feet are no fun either. I have this weird feeling like Trump is not going to finish his term. We’ll see if I’m right.

            • You are not the first to suggest Trump may not finish his lterm. . Not only have I heard that by some one else, I’ve said it, too. He’s one year older than me, and surely under much more stress., so it wouldn’t surprise me if he doesn’t finish the job.

              And I’m not confined to a wheelchair, But I can’t be on my feet for more than about three minutes, max, so I have the wheelchair. It helps a lot.

      • Great tribute dude, as we said this is just starting here in America. There is more than two more years of of rights lost, invasions, and lies. Prepare

      • I felt the need to honor her myself this morning. I’m glad to see you arrived first. When they’ve silenced a poet, we must step up and carry on. I am…overwhelmed by the atrocity. And bracing myself for what’s to come from the hit squad next. Beautiful memorial

      • Cold, stark, and unforgiving—this grips the chest and won’t let go. You feel the frost, the loss, the helplessness. A bleak landscape carved from grief. Raw, precise, and brutal.

        • Thank you, Thomas. I didn’t even know you were here. I’m just now preparing to do an audio version and will ost it in the Spoken Word category when I’m finished.

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      kesnerfreds wrote a new post

      between the leaves

      “between the leaves”Midday.A shaded path beside the stream.The grass glows in the heat.Damp earth rises — sharp, clean —with a faint scent of wet bark.A first gustturns.A curl of dust rises at my feet.The air carries a metal tang.The...

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      FlatDaddy wrote a new post

      Mirror

      © 2025It shiversat my approach,each step toward reflectionwrinkles my arrival,distorting is to was 'tilyesterme falls like bits of anvilsthudding in the sinkto break and curl and disappear,sucked awayto lie on piles of yesterskinbeached upon some yestershore of me.

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      • What an interesting opening. The mirror shivers upon your approach. I like this.

      • Thank you, Fia. And Happy Holidays!

      • Some days I glance at the mirror and can’t figure out who the stranger is. Like the mirror has ripples. But it’s no funhouse. I felt this one

      • Mirrors don’t lie! It’s the cold hard truth when it comes to appearances.
        I enjoyed the piles of yesterskin!

        Merry Christmas!

        • Thanks, Addy (hope you don’t mind the short moniker). Hang on to some of that yesterskin, it could be worth something some day! Happy holidays!

      • Okay. I didn’t know the mechanics of it, but now I do. My ex wife couldn’t walk past a mirror without stopping to admire herself, but she might run past them now, what with all that yesterskin pilled up. You’re hittin’ on all eight, old man.

        • Ah, I think you, Sam, whoever you are. Where am I, anyway? What’s wrong with this TV? It’s got words all over it. Where the hell’s the game? Why am I typing the thing’s I’m thinking? Whzzzzxxrzpzzzz …

    • Profile picture of kesnerfreds

      kesnerfreds wrote a new post

      hills to climb

      "hills to climb"     A figure counted once,standing where the verge breaks open.Word intact, meaning thinned,a marker left upright by habit alone.   Grass leans in, listening.Its tilt becomes direction,though the ground beneath itslides in its own quiet argument.   Your craft appears sideways—a pattern...

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      • Nice.
        I was told ages ago that it’s a flaw in writing to give inanimate things the ability to do conscious things, like the grass leaning to listen, as if it knew to.
        Yet, I argued that in creative writing, comes a creative freedom to paint things in a different light. To give it that “as if”.
        That’s what makes it more interesting and even unpredictable.
        Well done poem here. I truly enjoyed it.

        • Took out the “as if” during the edit to tighten the line. It’s like jumping into coloured chalk floor paintings and let Mary Poppins take care of the rest. And yes, I was told that too. But then again poetic licence, freedom of speech and creative expression all say otherwise. Thanks for your much valued visit. Truly grateful for the word you left here as well. 🙏🕊️

      • Dear K,

        Even your summary waxes poetic. I enjoyed this piece because the inanimate had something to offer. It was a lovely image seeing and feeling the energy transfer from one thing to another throughout the write. Lovely piece. H🌷

        • Thank you, dear Honoria, for keeping that energy in transfer-flow. Now, even after the poem has rested from its reading a work it began continues on. Most appreciatively, K.

    • Profile picture of kesnerfreds

      kesnerfreds wrote a new post

      our old stretch

      We gather with the year still warmfrom all the hands that shaped it,passing cups across the tableas if the work might start againthe moment someone nods,each of us carrying this stretch of our yearin pockets, boots, and notebooks.A creak...

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