To Capture an Angel
by Frank Daub
My plan was based
On seeking proof
of Faith erased.
A search for truth.
A hook that could be thrown
to tear my doubting,
and fix on something grown
From love – Divine shouting?
An angel’s message could be so.
Thunder, light or such.
The Sweet of wine, a kindred soul
Or a Sacrificial Touch.
Shall I record every WORD
Dreams given in the night
Should I seek confirmation
From those who don't know the Light
Should I show prophecy
And attest to the TRUTH
Open books of warning
I've given since my youth
Will Kings and kingdoms
Rise up and claim allegiance
Approving of WISDOM
They act out in appalling grievance
.....against all evil
That is of Spirit is Spirit
No flesh can clothe LOVE
The purity of His heart
Cannot align with anything that matter is made of
The eternal record is finished
Recorded on the Spirit of man
When the soul arrives in the space
The resonance reveals the plan
Unchangeable, undiminished
The resilience rings forth His glory
What a privilege to be
A single WORD in the everlasting story
....grace has walked us through
Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-23-2026
Of its hot charge
Bedazzled mind's
Struck, as intensely a-quiver
With lightning's power.
If roomed; moon-glowed!
Of its full tear
A broken heart's
Soaked, with crystal vase's knock
On the head shock.
If dream-pillowed!
Today,
nothing terrible happened.
Suspicious.
I waited for the plot twist,
but the sun just sat there,
warm and stupid,
like it loved me.
How does one be happy?
Does it look like
not being snappy?
What is being glad
supposed to look like?
A little less mad?
A little less sad?
What does it look like
to be joyful?
Nothing rhymes with joyful.
That’s not helpful.
Maybe happiness
doesn’t need
to look like anything.
Maybe it doesn’t need
confetti,
a punchline,
or proof.
Maybe it just sits there,
warm and stupid,
until you stop
asking questions.
I didn’t.
It stayed anyway.
Proof I’m Alive
I am the ache behind my ribs,
the pulse that never learned to lie.
I am the storm beneath my skin,
the quiet scream I keep inside.
I am the proof in shaking hands,
in tired eyes that still don’t close,
in every breath I almost lost,
in every wound the silence knows.
I am the girl who bent, not broke,
the shadow stitched with stubborn light,
the echo of a thousand falls
that somehow still gets up to fight.
I am the tears I never showed,
the words I buried in my chest,
the way my heart still dares to beat
despite the weight, despite the mess.
So if you ask me how I know
I made it through what should have won—
I am still here, still standing now.
That is proof I’m alive.
Is A Simple
Concept
Deliberately.
Or Maybe Not.
Cross Your Fingers.
-Gray Squirrel
06-13-2026
call me at four o’clock she said
I have depression
I will not answer until four
but I am eager to hear from you
We need to catch up!
Sure, I think.
That is only seven hours from now.
I eat breakfast, lunch, take a nap.
Set the timer for 3:55.
Bathroom quickie.
At precisely four o’clock I dial.
4:01 dial
4:02 dial
4:03 dial.
in my phone it says call cancelled under each call
I am wondering if she is still eager to catch up?
Proof positive there's intelligent life in the galaxy
light years away in outer space
they know better than to contact us
and we call ourselves the human race.
I'm turned off by cupidity
and over the torpidity
I've had it to here with stupidity.
Every two hundred years or so
they do a fly-by analysing
investigating what lies down here below
without stopping it's not surprising.
Can't understand man's mentality
I'm done with the insanity
I've turned my back on humanity.
Grasping at straws in the back of a stack
we've lost the plot there's no needle to be found
in the wrong place at the wrong time flying 'round the moon
when the answer is here on the ground.
Can't unring the bell the world has gone to hell
there's no turning back
I'm waiting for the aliens to pick me up take me away
shooting for the stars one of these crazy days.
Sometimes I don’t know what to think
When I hear your story, I’m almost convinced
Because I don’t have extraordinary evidence for my claims
Just a hazy memory, a gnawing feeling, and a name
When I forget and when I doubt
I close my eyes and figure it out
Does God truly actually exist?
I see proof daily in the sky.
His essence we cannot comprehend.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
On snake’s mouth blood there’s none any,
Nor on a bitten one’s body.
Evil officials when prevail,
Ruler nor ruled would wealth avail.
_________________________
Sanskrit Translation | 21.01.2026 | blood, corruption, snake, government, quatrain
Note: Some quatrains called shlokas in Sanskrit are known as Subhaashhitams, words well-said. This one shows what happens when in a kingdom the administration officials are corrupt. A snake bites but leaves evidence of blood on its mouth nor on the person whom it bites. So do the corrupt leave any money trail. They not only drain the treasury of the ruler, of the ruled as well. Transliteration follows.
Na sarpasya mukhe raktam,
na dashtasya kalevare |
Na prajaasu na bhoopaale
dhanam dur-adhikaarini || Subhaashhitam ||
I treasure a calm environment.
I’ve worked hard to create this peace.
Not going to let you ruin it.
Get your act together then we’ll talk.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
I stuck by you through a lot.
More drama than I care to admit.
Time’s come to pull up your socks.
Show me it’s really all been worthwhile.
AP: 1st place 2026
Fear still threatens, but we are no longer controlled by it.
Sirens still sing, but we are no longer enticed by them.
Hurricanes still rage, but we are no longer swept away with them.
Enemies still approach; but we are no longer threatened by them.
We are bulletproof
How erring lives buried grace forever,
Makes crying eyes not sieve tears so clever...
Of unsung sins He forgives;
Human nature dare outlives
Either fearful or cheerful endeavour.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.