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drunk with pollen intoxicated honeybees stagger happily back to the hive © 2025 Bruno Talerico Stafford challenge day 15/365
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land where sun and shadow dance, symphony of extremes. harsh desiccated air softly scented by sage and creosote. armored sentinels, prickly green monoliths pierce sapphire sky while lily-white moonflower whispers dark secrets of divine femininity. migrants exotic souls merge with native-born, fiery spices tempered by smooth guacamole. howling canines,…
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quiet yellow of autumn afternoon, kitten curled upon lap, soft sweet rebel. whiskers twitch, absurd dreams of flight, humming, purring gentle, rhythmic thrills. asparagus fern stands by attentively, feathery fronds swaying, delicately green, tranquility base. gentle breezes whisper secrets loud and clear. atop distant yellowing cottonwood, raven caw-caws. voice shadowy, deep, wise, gleaming, dark sentinel…
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i take you to the room, or rather, i take you by the hand to the red door. i open the door and gesture you forward. i say “this is the room”. i don’t show you around. i don’t say “this is the chair, that is the table”. my poem is in the space between…
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they call a lot ‘vacant’ when it is not occupied by something manmade. no house, no factory, no strip mall. however, that ‘vacant’ lot is alive with plants, ants, grasshoppers and microorganisms, not to mention the birds and transient cat, fox or coyote. like the ‘vacant’ lot, when filled with vacancy, we overlook our internal…
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give or take a decade or two, barring accidents, on average, we each get about seventy years. do we exist simply as products of society and culture, or do we exist under a mysterious sky full of planets, stars and galaxies? perhaps we could do something more valuable with our allotted time than worrying…
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empires follow a natural cycle: they begin, grow, over-extend, and disintegrate. empires transgress against limits, employing violence to amass wealth and power. signs of a dying empire: class distinctions, racism, hatred religious fanaticism, hubris, arrogance, lack of manners and kindness. america’s perennial choice: to be or not to be an empire. to overextend and collapse…
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do not dwell. sin has no substance, no particle of being, undetectable except by the pain it causes. do not dwell. pain only has substance for a while, purifying us, teaching us about ourselves. suffering we cause ourselves through acts of greed and unconsciousness is the only punishment. do not dwell. on failings and transgressions…
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when i made dinosaurs, castles, flying motorcars or volcanos from my mashed potatoes, Mom said, ”don’t play with your food!” she never said a thing about idioms, similes, aphorisms or metaphors. so, good boy that i am, i play only with my words. Stafford challenge day six. © 2025 Bruno Talerico
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why are some poor souls compelled to leave enchanted sleep of daily life to carve into the psyche? clairvoyant poets, balladeers spewing tales and allegories aphorisms, similes, metaphors randomly regurgitating phrases, strands of words sometimes sweet, sometimes crude, often vague recording thoughts and feelings, threads so hard to convey, most don’t attempt to understand. …
Desert Dweller 