A BUSY DAY IN NATURE
Spiders building webs…
Maggots metamorphosing…
Free flies flip flopping…
PONDERING LABORING DAYS AHEAD
In the laboring days ahead,
Dawning with continuous trials,
And subsequent tribulations,
Let’s not be like sheep
In a slaughtering pen;
Rather, let’s be as lambs
In the garden of God:-
Armed with faith and hope,
And God’s divine guidance,
Let us, as the Psalms remind us,
Journey onwards to overcoming:
“Defending truth, humility, and justice”:-
For indeed, our God is a God of justice;
Justice indeed, being, “His royal scepter.”
Thus, as Summer is waning,
And leave falling Fall preludes
The vicious coming of Winter,
Let us realize resurrecting Spring
Will likewise return with healing grace:-
Thus, let us continue in our resurrecting
Labors of love, sowing reaping justice:-
lone parasol stroll
leaves and lady dressed in red—
grayed man misses youth
A whimsical melody.
Or a ghostly one. It's always one.
On a hill. In the woodlands. Among
Oaks and birch trees wind
Twinkles in between layers of
The moment.
Moment - seems like something
Unequivocal
Yet the truth of it can never be fully
grasped. I get lost in the
Labirynths of understanding to find only
Misunderstandings. The rare clarity.
What makes a moment:
Colours, textures, scents, sounds
A world within or beyond
Me?
My mind. My past. My understanding of the past.
My sure
misunderstanding of the past. And the fact
That perhaps I just said 'I love you' or simply
'shall we grab a coffe'.
Or when I say nothing at all.
The Now
With infinite potentials.
Like a piece of clay I yet need to dare
To grasp. I think I need more courage.
Then I see that it comes to me
regardless.
30.08.25
iconic sunrise
I wear no disguise,
really.
as do butterflies,
earth, I colorize
freely.
golden moon full-size
lulls school bus allies
briefly.
Pick-A-Title, Vol 54 Poetry Contest // Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 13, 2025
It stalks in silent corners of the mind.
A whisper, jagged, dark, and undefined.
Its claws creeps walls we dare not show,
eyes ecstatic where our hearts should glow.
It scoff on mistrust, on every hidden fear,
gnawing at the edges of what we hold dear,
A silent growl underneath the laughing sound.
A truth too fierce to face the day unbound.
Yet deep down inside the marrow of this fight.
A spark ignites a flutter of quiet light.
We don’t meet the beast with sword or shield
but with the quiet courage the heart alone can hold
It howls, it rampage, yet we will not fall,
it's shadow recoils before our inner call.
The beast is vicious, but we are more vicious still--
Adepts of the darkness by our iron will.
In moonlight's hush, beneath the elm,
A masked marauder stalks his realm.
With paws like whispers, eyes like coal,
He seeks the prize that fills his soul.
But lo! The bin—his ancient foe—
Stands smug, unyielding, sealed in woe.
Its lid, a tyrant, cold and tight,
Dares mock his hunger in the night.
"Have you forgotten?" he snarls with grace,
"The feast we shared, the sacred place?
You fed me once, you knew my name,
Now plastic locks deny my claim."
He leaps! He claws! A ballet grim,
A pirouette on garbage rim.
Banana peels and coffee grounds
Rain down like war drums' hollow sounds.
Neighbors wake to chaos born,
A furry tempest, rage and scorn.
Yet in his heart, a deeper ache—
Not trash, but trust, was theirs to break.
So if you see him, tail askew,
A poet wrapped in dumpster dew,
Know vengeance drives his nightly plan—
The raccoon scorned by a trash can.
tadpoles in the stream
swimming zigzag everywhere
frogs are soon to be
I whisper like the burbles of the stream.
Though, in my interiors, there's a scream.
I have composed my song. Shouldn't I sing?
Between nodules of clouds of doubts I swing.
Aesthetics and passions amalgamate.
Love and warmth, like lake ripples, escalate.
Arduous desires break like waves of seas.
Could my peaceless soul ever feel at ease?
You're the soulful singer. You are the song.
I'm a song too. But do we flow along?
There's, between us, a common logarithm.
Should we not unite with nature's rhythm?
The bloom starts no repentance,
it is not afraid of the slip just yet.
each gentle wind is a sigh from the sky.
be scented now, then learn to die.
It is the fleeting we become.
in how we glow before we've gone.
river,
flow by my feet~
as waters of my mind
do overtake and wet the page
and droplets step-dance to create, backstage.
for manufactured, processed verse
could never pulse with life,
the rhythm of a
river.
[On AI]
When nature touches my soul
The soft winds sing to my heart
Sun’s energy fills my body
I again have balance in my life
in vibrant colors
shades of green on a hillside -
where wildflowers grow
~
a glass of red wine
hot tub and barrel sauna -
summer enjoyment
in the wind the bubbles float
the effect impacts your mood
a freshly mown lawn
the clippings become new mulch
the grass will thrive now
They’re killing innocence because that’s what they do. Bullets are made to fly and bombs to fall too. The animal is alive and disguised by a soft smile. But it will rip out and eat your heart and then politely say thank you.
The animal lives a cultured life, educated and true. The animal exists in your life and walks, breathes, sleeps and talks around you. The animal disguised may indeed show concern for your pain. But it would happily end your life if living came down to a choice of it or you only to remain.
The animal inside is ferocious and true.
living behind the disguise of a face with soft eyes just like me or you.
For no matter how polite and peaceful you are finding your truth in nature and the sun. If your animal had to fight for its life it would destroy by hand, by foot, by tooth, by blade or by gun.
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