On the last day of the week
you were the first person to ask me
on a movie date
and this was the first time I refrained from hesitation
the first time in a long time I've loaned my bones expose
and as it plays on my unforgivable fidgeting
begins twisting in positions in my seat
trying to lay my head on your chest
without breaking my neck
and I’m sorry I couldn’t just
become comfortable
and I’m sorry it’s about more than
just the movie
and I’m sorry I was more focused
on what I wanted taken
than was capable of giving
and I’m sorry all I can do is sputter off
apologies after you've
long since stopped listening
.
FLOWERING :
In sequence.
A loop. Musical
Nests. A Visual
Order. Seeded
Hidden. Encryption
Like a secret. An algorithmic code
Harmony nesting in the seed
Awaiting release
Fibonacci
s
i
n
g
l
e
e
y
e
s N
t O
r I
a T
i A
n Y et fails if truth V
s T does not prevail L
I then deatH A
t N can only net E eyeS
o R L up
E L ift
s T
e E
I AM A MOVING SPIRIT OF WELL-BEING DANCING IN THE MELODY OF MY OWN SONG.
You are the light that fills my days,
the warmth that wraps around my soul.
In your eyes, I find a home, a place where
time stops and hearts speak in whispers only
we can hear. Love grows like roots beneath
us, deep and quiet, but strong enough to
lift us when we fall. In your touch, I feel
the pulse of the world, beating with the
promise of forever, tender and true.
Together, we are whole, as one, in love,
always.
Dark
shapes
twist and
crawl in the
corners of my
mind. Silent
whispers fill
the air, cold
and choking.
A breath
catches, then
slips away as
I reach for the
light that’s too
far to touch.
Eyes watch
from the
depths of the
void. I can’t
move, can’t
scream. I'm
trapped inside
the suffocating
storm of my
own fear, lost
in a place where
shadows never
leave and hope
fades to dark.
Tall
and
still as
the sun burns
high above, the
dry earth cracks
with thirst. A lone
cactus stands,
its arms raised
to the sky, seeking
the rain that
never comes.
Shadows stretch
long across the
sand, the wind
whispers soft
secrets,
and time stands
still in the heat
of the day.
happiness is F—R—E—E
when shared
t
h
r
o
u
g
h
loving h~e~a~r~t~s~~
a gift with no
e—n—d
love still f~~l~~o~~w~~s
t
h
r
o
u
g
h
s*u*n*b*u*r*s*t and rain F°A°L°L~
w~a~r~m, e
n
d
u•r•i•n•g,
p_u_r_e
W
O
R
D
S
Basho
Into the old pond
settling in. A cave
In eyes
sparkle of
butterflies
On
her
back
Wears
A shield
Tough as
That of
an aged
Turtle
.
.
Have attempted Haiku in Concrete
PAST refrain
I I I I I I I I I I
I I I I I I I I I I
I I I I I I I I I I
I I I I I I I I I I
I I I I I I I I I I
I I I I I I I I I I
I I I I I I I I I I
I I I I I I I I I I
I I I I I I I I I I
I I I I I I I I I I
FUTURE pain
like
shadows in
a slow-turning
waltz, they drift—
soft, unsummoned sighs
from corners of the mind
where dust forgets to settle,
and yesterday pirouettes silently.
dreams once bright now fade, tulle
trailing in twilight, ankles kissed by
cobwebs of sleep. Each step unwinds
the golden thread of almost-memory,
echoing rhythms never quite born,
never quite gone. They circle,
spiral, shimmer, vanish—
the dance of
forgotten
dreams.
.
* .
. *
* . *
. I lie still
under an ocean
of ink—each breath
a whisper rising
into a velvet hush.
My eyes sail
on silver threads
stitched across
this dark tapestry.
stars murmur
their stories slow,
unfurling like soft
lanterns in the black.
I vanish
into wonder,
beneath
the
canvas
of
night.
O I
am so
sad now
that she left
for up above.
Twenty years
is a long time
to love a cat,
this sweet.
A kitten came
that fit my hand
all fluffy and purring,
she loved to cuddle
all the long nights.
I held her in my arms
till her body was stone.
And now I go to the place
where I buried my beauty.
I told my friends- no, no,
more cats for this here girl.
They say just give it time!
Oh, oh my- days are empty,
sometimes, I hear her soft
meow call, calling for me,
and that breaks my heart.
Tears,
now
fall
fall
fall
like
rain
on
my
new
wee
cat.
Let's speak of numbers.
I’m a Kenyan 2.0,
With an ID to prove.
I own the code—254,
Been here since I was 0.
Gen Z did awaken,
Learning the art in math—
The topic on tax,
And the story of Zakayo.
Gen Z did awaken,
Learning history’s tale:
The beauty of freedom—independence,
Yet freedom fighters still fade.
And the Bill of Rights,
Freedom of speech,
To stand against the bill—
Its creator sickened the breach.
Gen Z did awaken,
To our new 'Leader,'
A master of language,
Crafting his best lies.
The world on hold,
Schools, hospitals, streets—
All in chaos, all closed,
Waiting for ‘Mr. President.’
To speak of numbers,
Of those lost in protests,
Lost in abductions,
And those gained in corruption.
Protests painted red with blood and tears.
A beacon of peace in pieces.
A home of 'hakuna matata'
Full of mournings,
Numbers adding in the statistics.
Specific Types of Concrete Poems
Read wonderful concrete poetry on the following sub-topics:
basketball, christmas, friends, funny, kids, love, music, nature, school, sports
and more.
Definition | What is Concrete in Poetry?