The Sunday Whirl: Story of Horror

Brenda hosts The Sunday Whirl:

leaping halo twig serene face killing sighs page quiver numb voice mind

With a halo on her head and a voice inside her mind
The face of evil shot back numbing words she couldn’t find
The quiver of her lips replace serene thoughts and calmness
Like twigs that scratch on window sills, it is no warm caress
She turned the page with a long sigh to see what else it’d bring
But nothing could prepare her for deplorable killing
Leaping to her feet and throwing pages to the floor
She knew that was a vile world she would visit nevermore.

©2023 CBialczak

Little Creature Surprise: Compilation 01/29/2023

The shriek slowly faded as I walked away
Ruining my exercise that precipitates my day
The drumming continued and the peacefulness topped
Like vines along barns grown too thick to be cropped
I clung to my sweater spread right ‘cross my back
I was flummoxed to see the cement had a crack
Was it water in there hunting for a space to hide?
Like a natural trowel I impulsively tried
To look in the crack, a real tight place to see
If this was the place the cacophony might be
I employed all my senses, visions coming right back
Like the floods and the blooms of springtime’s attack
When all of a sudden I saw in that space
All the creatures were having a chummy embrace
There was music and balloons like tiny small dots
There were young little creatures banging on pots
They were celebrating something, I’d never know
But back to my exercising I had to go.

©2023 CBialczak

barns thick clung topped blooms walked spread drumming faded hunt peace floods
trowel, cement, water

Realization: Compilation 01/15/2023

Despite the manifestations
To determine a moment or two
Where gratitude is not held down
Where a strong stand is taken by you

The silence is suddenly broken
When gossip is shuffled around
People around shilly-shally
You shoulder the words and the sound

You wrap your arms around slowly
An afable look on your face
And find that the truth is the one thing
That can fill nearly all of the space

Your guard is suddenly broken
A powdery dust no longer seen
Like the blade of a knife that is bent
All severe feelings is how it has been

The situation is fine now
The look on your face shows a smile
The sweet minty taste on the pallet
Once again you have gone the whole mile.

©2023 CBialczak Poetry

determine, strong, mint
manifestations shoulder powdery wraps broken shuffle blade stand moment again nearly silence

The Sunday Whirl: 01/01/2023

Join in here each Sunday!

boat preserve speak resist oil fire drive fly shoot matter close right

Taking a break

It was just a matter of fact
A way to preserve my soul
Speaking with honest resolve
A way to close a hole

A hole like in a boat
With oil on its hull
Flying through the night
The cabin stocked up full

The cabin full of stuff
Mostly for the drive
Shooting across the glass
How the water seems alive

The water seeming hot
I get caught by a surprise
No fire and no match around
But it kept away the flies. 

The flies resist the temptation
To land upon our food
Sitting right in front of us
Which elevates my mood. 

My mood is calming down
the boat is slowing too
Now I feel like I’m renewed
It’s what I like to do.

©2023 CBialczak Poetry

The Sunday Whirl: Monday’s version!

With the holidays I haven’t done much writing so I will take this time to catch up. Join in here if you’d like:

star scan body dust follow grow stroke stony moonshine goddess song slip

Sitting under the moonshine the goddess strokes the lean body of her cat
Her gaze following a shooting star while a soft song grows out of her soft lips
She sings of the forest and all of its men who are stony and stoic and cold
Dust slips through the cracks in the canopy and she scans the sky for a sign. 

Mystical Visions: Compilation 11/20/2022

With all intent and purposes I crack the curtains quick
I try to get a glimpse of who might loom and play a trick.
I grip the curtain with my hand, creeped out by a large stain
I wonder if it’s part of the man’s now exploded brain.
I hear a noise and whirl around, more of a clumsy spin
To see through light left by the moon and then I leaned right in.
I saw my Lord in my garden of colored tulip blooms
He is my favorite man of law, mixed in like smokey fumes
I backed right up and curled my fingers ’round the slack fabric
And tried to think of why I’m here, I’d figure something quick
My mind erased the memories of seeing him that day
But every night when I lay down, to him I like to pray
I pray that he comes back around to see me at my best
And go to sleep with joyous vibes inclined to take a rest.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

A Silly Mistake: Compilation 11/06/2022

At the end of the hall of the building I owned

Was a big open window and a playground disowned.

In spite of it all, I was stunned by the site

Of a newly grown willow leaning ‘way from the light

I sucked in a breath as I guarded my eyes

Fearing bites of an insect or the no-see-um flies

For a moment I thought it was a hallucination

Or maybe a high from my pot solution

I focused real hard and decided to go

Down the kind of tall stairway, I’d have to trust my ego

I let down my guard and descended the stairs

Like driving downhill where nobody cares

When I got to the tree I saw you and sighed

You said “Forgive yourself now” but I wanted to hide

Now I felt so embarrassed the tree’s lit by a lamp

And I laughed at my mistake till my cheeks were all damp.

Only Happiness: Compilation 10/23/2022

‘As ancestors go, mine are pretty unique
From the depths of the oceans to tall mountain peaks
The grief from their passing is replaced with a smile
The sadness is lifted, depths of loss reconcile
Pretty bright blooms rise right out of the ice
Rain melts the snow, it is really quite nice
Mud seems to grovel in crevices bare
While salt from the ocean’s like crystals of air
The bruises of sorrow on the skin of the soul
Replace what the heart wants and what it still knows
From the edge of a field to the top of a peak
No words heard murmuring, no sounds here to seek
Keep moving on ’til your cup runneth dry
And remember the happiness each time you cry.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry