Feathery white lines
cotton wool stretched across thin
folding and rolling
here I stand waiting
balanced on the edge of time
past draped at my back
the future creases forward
a bloom yet to be folded
creases cross the sheet
the past bends, then re-creases
future folds to match
both entwine though never meet
a puzzle time enlightens
like petals rising
origami takes its form
each wedge takes its place
a flower blooms in the room
unfurling in happenstance
paper remembers
each valley, each mountain path
trails of where I've been
ghosts of futures not yet lived
hidden in the pleated sedge
tilted polygons
wedges stacked in helical
time loops on itself
a structure both flat and vast—
endless bloom of folded space
each crease is a breath
a moment held in silence
each fold, a new path
unfolding from edge of time—
flowers blooming come alive
a blank page
when I awaken
and walk barefoot
across the carpet
and when I embrace
the song of nothingness
it wants more
a cool breeze through the window breathes new life
onto the page in front of me
and the sun peaks through the window
as I sit at my laptop
and slide my feet under the desk
I love my muse and learn to let go
the moment when I follow the path
where inspiration leads
(folding mirror poem)
If Not For
morning would be just morning
the sun would hide behind clouds
stillness would be without meaning
the road would lead to nowhere
the skies would be without promise
my life an empty page
Dreams
morning would be a life bursting forth
the sun would share its light
stillness would burst into chorus
the road would lead to stars
the skies would be an ocean
my life a book of poems
(folding mirror style)
I sure do wish I could fold space,
and quickly slip from place to place
like bending pages of a map,
and thus eliminate the gap,
connect a destination’s source,
arriving right on time, of course.
But if I tried that with a pad,
I’d snap the glass; that would be bad!
Perhaps an app with drag and drop
from where you are to where you stop.
You’d need a way to keep it clean
without a wipe down of the screen.
Imagine spilling pizza sauce;
you’d scrub away and end up lost.
Perhaps a special stylus pen:
confirm okay or start again.
But frankly I don’t have much luck;
I’d lose the pen and wind up stuck.
I guess we’ll leave things as they are;
I’ll stick to driving my old car.
On that day or night
I will lay myself down
somewhere between
the folding of the light.
Gone will be all thoughts
of metaphoric butterfly or phoenix,
nor any luminous tunnel.
I will not be better or worse
than I am now.
Just this,
mind will commence
to paint itself
with a far finer brush.
The preacher expounded on 2 Timothy 4:18
"The LORD will protect you from all evil"
As I sat on my couch contemplating clean socks
I recalled how I'd seen mothers fold laundry. Calmly;
O how calmly did they work at this simplest of chores
And I began to imitate some of their work and serenity
As I straightened each sock, then laid the companion over
Flat against the other member. Folding from bottom -
Thrice, my choice, then the elastic top secured the pair!
To avoid matrimonial metaphors, I did something odd:
Having folded a pair, I then tucked in another set
Twinning my folding exercise with socks, maybe creativity?
And a calm outbreath of satisfaction: mess gone, new poem!
One day or night I will lay
in the dark folding of the light.
One cool breath will be lilting
inside the hollow of my corpse,
another breath will be warming
one drop of nectar.
Gone will be all thoughts
of butterfly or phoenix,
nor any luminous tunnel.
I will not be better or worse
than I am now.
Just this,
Mind will then be painting itself
with a much finer brush.
I
My wife folds the towels.
She is the correct folder
as opposed to me.
II
I have learned many
ways of folding towels poorly
over porous years.
III
The other folders
would not agree about much
except about me.
napkin holder...
what an
easy job
folding wishes
origami
whispers
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Folding chairs
Folding sheets...napkins and
self
Tuck the ruffled edges...the creases
the bound corners deep
Hide them in the formation of perfect squares and
Straightforward lines
Slowly..carefully smooth out the visable top layers
till like a smooth as glass sea on a pale October morning
All remants and reminders of froth ...foam and fury
are forgotten in the haze and daze
of molten light reflecting only off the surface
One foot here and the other there
Celestial light shines down
on the folding fan
channeling the wind from North to East,
to South, and lastly West
Cherry blossom petals slowly rain
and scarlet petals of dying flowers
join the westward winds
Another step here and another there
This folding fan will guide the way
on the path of faith, patience, wisdom, humility, and elegance
in this sacred dance
Folding Flowers While Ironing Rocks in The Dark
I load the washing machine up with my dirty wishes
Found myself lost and broken in the kicthen
All the writing on the bathroom stalls
Surpasses the shoppers at the malls
And why must I write about you at all
You come before me and you think it a lark
it's circumstances Folding Flowers While Ironing Rocks in The Dark
Swimming in odd-houses while cutting class
Grown up thinking pew is a piece of church furniture
Watermelon basketball salmon crochet patties
Wring on the sidewalk with a broken bleeding thumb
Picking up harden day old chewing gum
You come before me and you think it a lark
it's circumstances Folding Flowers While Ironing Rocks in The Dark
Now while you are trying to comprehensive and make sense of my lines
Don't condemn me because my words don't make sense
I'm no more or less educated than a bowl of pink grapes
Bet you gonna try and fluctuate and define my lines of morphemes
And why must I worry about you at all
You come before me and you think I am lost
it's circumstances Folding Flowers While Ironing Rocks in The Dark
11/25/17
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Folding The Crease
Two ideas we do decree,
Heads or Tails, Steam or Sails.
Black or White, Dim or Bright.
Do we not allow, an option ‘C’?
Two just fits our life of rhythms,
Out or In, Her or Him.
Left or Right, Loose or Tight.
But we need more, for life’s tough decisions.
Binary choices seem quite clear,
But look beyond
The detail here.
That random devil just
Sits by deepest blue.
While a rock and a hard place,
These await for you.
War and Peace follow no rules.
Lifelines run
On random spools.
Some know War,
Some know Peace.
Somewhere between these two, lies that crease
That oh so easily, folds us into state of War,
Or allows us to unashamedly bask,
In that Peace, we should not ignore.
©Keith Murphy
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