Stream of Consciousness
Blub, Blub, Cheer Up!
I entered the house, closing the door behind me. The summer heat wave was too much—glad I’d taken a cab home. Mom wasn’t there to greet me. Slipping on my house slippers, I headed to the kitchen and found her baking up a storm. Just looking at the sweets gave me a sugar rush. After waving hello, I went to my room to freshen up. When I returned, I gave Mom a hug and grabbed a plate of spaghetti. Sitting at the table, I enjoyed my lunch while watching her cook. Are we having guests? I wondered. After putting my clean plate on the rack, I walked into the living room—and there was the reason for Mom’s cooking spree: my nephew. He sat there, surrounded by gloomy clouds. I gave him a hug and asked what was wrong. Turns out, his friend had moved away, and he was pretty upset. Knowing words wouldn’t help much, I grabbed my wallet and told Mom we were going to the nearby convenience store. Hoping ice cream would cheer him up, I ordered a scoop for each of us. As we sat eating, something else caught my attention. Finishing quickly, I led my nephew over to it—a mini goldfish-catching game. I let him try. After several failed attempts, he finally caught one. Proudly holding up a bowl with his new goldfish, he beamed at me. We bought some pet food and brought the fish home. I watched as my nephew played with it, giggling as the goldfish followed his finger, bubbles softly "blubbing" in the water. The gloomy clouds had vanished. Once again, he was a happy little boy. It’s amazing how a pet can bring so much life into ours.
By Staringaleabout a year ago in Poets
When the Mind Breaks Free
Unshackled now from doubt and fear, It soars where stars and dreams appear. No longer tied to earthly thread, It drifts where only thought has tread. Through veils of time, through silent space, It moves with neither form nor face. A breath, a flash, a lightning call— It rises far beyond the wall. The wall of “must,” the gate of “should,” The cage of “never,” made of wood Carved by hands not ours alone— Tradition’s voice in hardened stone. But now that voice begins to fade, As sunrise cuts through twilight’s shade. The mind, once bound in rigid schemes, Explodes in fragments, birthing dreams. And dreams give wings to deepest thought, To truths long hidden, truths not taught. A single spark becomes a stream, A flood, a fire, a pulsing beam. It travels through the soul’s domain, Where wonder walks and breaks the chain. It dares to ask, it dares to see What lies beyond what “ought to be.” No longer does it shrink or bow To limits shaped by then and now. Instead, it leaps from edge to sky, Unfolding self, refusing why. Imagination takes the wheel, While reason learns again to feel. Logic hums in harmony With wonder’s soft epiphany. The body still, the mind takes flight, Through caverns carved in sacred light. It journeys into quiet lands, Where thought is shaped by unseen hands. There, oceans swell with silent lore, And stars are doors, not myths of yore. Each atom hums a secret song, And time itself flows not along. Instead, it spirals, bends, and weaves Through memories and fallen leaves. It forms a path from thought to flame, From spoken word to hidden name. The mind, once trapped in narrow frame, Now dances, wild and without shame. It paints in colors never seen, It sings where silence once had been. The rules dissolve, replaced with flow— With questions only depth can know. What is the self? The soul? The spark? What lights the candle in the dark? And who decides what’s true, what’s not, If all we are is mind and thought? The mind unleashed begins to see That truth is shaped by how we're free. Free to wonder, free to stray, Free to find another way. To speak in metaphors and flame, To strip the world of name and claim. To see a tree and feel its soul, To touch the wind and be made whole. To look within and find the stars, No longer bound by wounds or scars. It asks not “can I?” but “why not?” It reclaims all that time forgot. The myths, the dreams, the silent signs— The sacred voice between the lines. With every breath, it climbs anew, From ancient depths to skies of blue. Each thought becomes a stepping stone To places thought can go alone. And yet, it is not lost in air— It finds new ground, it plants with care. For breaking free does not mean gone, But finding where you once belonged. The mind that breaks does not destroy, But clears the dust to find its joy. It does not burn the past away, But builds with light a clearer way. So let it rise, this boundless fire, This quiet force, this deep desire. Let thought be free, let questions live, Let wonder take, and wonder give. For when the mind breaks free at last, It claims the future and the past. It weaves them both into a thread That guides the soul where it is led. A lighthouse glowing in the sea Of all that was and yet may be. A beacon to the world inside— The mind, once bound, now opened wide. So if you feel the stir within, A whisper soft beneath your skin, Don’t fear the call, don’t close the door— You are your mind, and so much more.
By Wasif islamabout a year ago in Poets
Tire Streaks
Another go at D.K.'s challenge. Huge thanks to her once again for creating it, and warmest congratulations on making an impact. We wouldn’t have seen the recent Leaderboard announcements from Vocal without her efforts.Readers: be sure to check out the Vocalite Manifesto series and see the legacy she’s left behind!
By Dalma Ubitzabout a year ago in Poets
Angelique's Repose. Top Story - May 2025.
Angelique hides quietly in a shrub as bees and birds flit around her. A ladybug climbs up her arm to rest on her shoulder. As she watches clouds, a napping, curled cat floats in the sky, followed by a strand of pearls spreading vertically and horizontally. There are many cloud shapes: eagles, mountains, a sleeping baby, and a canoe drifting along the sky river. Leaves brush against Angelique's immobile and ageless form, a concrete maiden frozen in time.
By Andrea Corwin about a year ago in Poets
