Cento Confusion

triumph Are sinew
winnings are much
Twisted is doubt
wait your head touch

blaming in keep
doubting and too
yourself all theirs
make you hurt you

tired on can
waiting for lies
master when lied
when talk don’t wise

build ’em you give
again you gone
hated you breathe
men make “Hold on”

about make friends
losing you spoken
knaves But good Earth
virtue their broken

If If If If
If If If If
If If If If
And If my son!


I don’t think it makes much sense either. You can try it, for the Terrible Poetry Contest this week. You’re to craft a cento on the subject of compassion. …Mine has compassion in that I didn’t continue mixing up the rest of the words to Rudyard Kipling’s “If” into more stanzas…

©2022 Chel Owens

Photo by alleksana on Pexels.com

A Choir Concert to Remember, Pantoum for the Terrible Poetry Contest

All I wanted was to sing
I didn’t know I’d be puking
For, songs are usu’lly not sick’ning
Unless you’re nervous and lock your legs

I didn’t know I’d be puking
From the back row, on an upswing
Unless you’re nervous and lock your legs
My peers were angry and dripping

From the back row, on an upswing
For, songs are usu’lly not sick’ning
My peers were angry and dripping
All I wanted was to sing

©2022 Chel Owens

Yes, this happened. Fifth grade. I still don’t know if I was sick or simply locked my knees. At least I didn’t hit the audience.

This was the least sickening gif I found…

Pantoum is a fun form to try. Go on; write one up and submit it for this week’s Terrible Poetry Contest.

I’ve Found My Feet

I’ve found my feet
way down, below.
My life’s complete
with my big toe

And, pinky, too
…and all the rest –
the names of who(m)
I’ve only guessed.

The point, you see,
is they’re all there;
standing, waiting:
my feet, a pair.

-At least, I thought,
as in I sucked,
a glimpse I caught
past tummy, tucked.

©2022 Chel Owens

Photo by Kat Smith from Pexels

A follow-up, just for Willow, of “I Cannot See My Feet No More.

Me reading it!

I held time today

I held time today.

It felt all sifty, like new-cast snow

parts of it were not.

…Like clay.

-or gravy-

Yes! Time is gravy, I decided, as I rubbed its siftiness between my hands and tried to keep it

-grasp it-

It both thickened and dissolved

leaving behind half-finished projects
…well-meant regrets.

I held time today, and wished for mashed potatoes.

Photo by Spadethief on Pixabay.

©2021 Chel Owens

Import Important, by JulesPaige

Import Important
(99 syllables, Double Ennead Ekphrastic Acrostic
of the split words of Import Important)

I employ the rake to
manage the fall leaves
piling them high at the curb for picking up
or some are for my trees
raked round their bases

tender protection for
inclement weather
might damage the roots that are near the surface
perhaps when snow piles high
over the back yard…

rest well with slow sap, my
trees that shed their leaves
and know that I look for budding health come spring
now though brace for winter;
time for dreamings’ nigh


If I too could sleep the winter through,
could I would I sleep thusly
under warm leaf quilts

©2021 JulesPaige

Jules is a poetmaster, weaving words expertly whenever she wishes.

Playground Rules

The class all took the lesson of Hamilton too well;

For, Tom and Brucie vowed to meet -outside- after the bell.

Yet on the way past Foursquare, Sue and Pete each swung a limb;

Tommy had to knock them out before they knocked out him.

Then, at the place of meeting, Bruce deloped and hit the tree;

Tommy cried, “He meant to strike!” and punched him in the spleen.


While Sue and Pete and Brucie all sat in with the nurse;

The other kids were singing tales, each with a diff’rent verse.

Said Principal, “These playground fights are such a mixed-up mess.

“Our outside cam’ra’s blurry and the fighters won’t confess.”

All went home to fam’lies, and those fam’lies up and called:

Singing like the children, diff’rent verses one and all.

Photo from Unsplash.

©2021 Chel Owens

Friendship — Hobbo’s Poems

I always love a good Hobbo poem. If you’re not enjoying his works, head over there now!

Photo by George Pak on Pexels.com
My imaginary friend
and I both parted, at the end
she never paid her round in bars
or took her turn at doing chores.
She put on airs and took the Mick
but what was really rather sick
and turned our friendship to a joke was when she […]

Friendship — Hobbo’s Poems