The Realm Of Ignorance
A Sonnet For The Vocal "Instructions for a Feeling" Challenge
The Realm Of Ignorance
☠️✖️❌❓⁉❔❌✖️☠️
The Will Never See You
And That Will Surely Hurt
Know Your Worth That Is True
And Know They Are The Worst
❌❓⁉❔❌
In This Realm, Ignorance
It's Truly Guiding Light
But Your Words Still Can Dance
If You Ignore Their Hate
❌❓⁉❔❌
Stand Up Strong, Be Yourself
Repay Their Ignorance
With All Your Love And Skill
The Disdain Is Distanced
❌❓⁉❔❌
Now Is Your Turn To Shine
Fear Gone, This Is Your Time
☠️✖️❌❓⁉❔❌✖️☠️
About the Creator
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More stories from Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred and writers in Poets and other communities.
Seconds
Introduction This is the first challenge entry that I have written since Vocal has fixed my ability to publish. I woke during the night and came up with a hybrid poetry form, the terzareyu, a cross between terza rima and Senryū (川柳). Look them up for what the forms are.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 days ago in Poets
A Recipe for Nostalgia
Preheat the evening to dusk, when the light turns everything soft enough to forgive. Start with one smell you can't explain—strawberry fields rushing past as she pressed against your back, her arms around you a sign that you make her feel safe. Set your heart to high heat—to that night the security guard found you, his knuckles on glass like shouts in a cathedral, interrupting a sacred moment of worship. Bake with her simple joy until the air remembers how she pulled you onto that dance floor, her hips already fluent in a language your feet were still stuttering. At exactly half-past back when, press play on the song that made her throw her head back laughing when you made up your own words. Let the first chord open the trapdoor under your ribs. Find the old hoodie she borrowed and hold it like a saint's garment (Over-handling may cause her perfume to fade). If it still fits, that's how you know nostalgia is lying; if it doesn't, that's how you know it's working. Add the longing in slowly—enough to swell every memory of her groaning at your puns, but not so much it leaks into regret. Mix in the three words she finally said for the first time ever. Scatter Polaroids on the counter, shuffle hands until every card shows her mid-laugh at something terrible you said. Fold-in the way her body twinged in anticipation when you’d gently touch it. Beat the urge to call her. Decorate with her last name—the one she planned to leave behind for you. Prepare for the ache in your temples; remember, this is a side effect, not a symptom. Garnish with the voicemail she left on your birthday, that you saved to listen to when you wanted to think of her. Serve in porcelain chipped by other lives. Nostalgia is best when shared, but may also be consumed shamelessly, in the blue glow of the fridge at 2 am. Store leftovers in your chest cavity. Reheat as necessary.
By SUEDE the poet2 days ago in Poets
The Saddest Thing - The Billionaires Who Rule America Aren't Even Enjoying Themselves
This single post says more about our ruling class than a thousand policy papers. The saddest thing about today's system is that the men robbing the rest of us - sabotaging our economic prospects, our pensions, our access to affordable healthcare - are not even happy.
By Scott Christenson🌴5 days ago in The Swamp
Comments (3)
Great work and we all will have our time to shine in no matter what we do.
I like how the title sits in quite well with the poem. Thanks for this motivational piece.
Great motivational poem, Mike!