(“The Longest Journey”, 2020, original encaustic)
Kumbaya Mylord
I am tired of the hate
I am tired of the divide
And so I do what I can
And begin the longest journey
With a single step, again.
(9/16/25)
Your love is the medicine
That healed my dying soul
From our first encounter
My broken heart felt whole
Your smile gave me a comfort
Taking away so many of my fears
When we shared our first embrace
I wanted it to last years
Your kiss removed the darkness
That I had been living in
The passion I saw in your eyes
Told me it's safe to love again
Before you came into my life
I'd given up on finding love
Then magically you appear
A precious gift from above
Bright star, shine far
Deep scar, leaves mar
Desperation, draw me not like magnets pull
But once again let saneness possess me in full
Do not ravage me like a loin upon its prey
Block not the seeds of thoughts that come to save the day
Like limbs of a tree in the presence of a gale force wind
The heavy weight of thy encumbrance makes me bend
As a cookie being crushed underneath a fisted hand
Sapping my power, I become a broken man
Hope beyond my greatest self, suddenly appears
Dashing all desperate thoughts, releasing all my fears
Focused like a camera’s lens, my eyes see a way
Attitude and mindful thought, must have their say
Ideals forming one by one, possibilities
Desperation lost this time, healed is my choice of realities
for Darkside Of Aquarius Poetry Contest-Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
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darkness rides out of brimstones flames,
upon wild horses numbering four,
bringing forth the horrors of their war,
the golden path all theirs to exploit and claim.
the promises rode in chariots of fears,
as the archer shot his arrows of ills and pain,
so man cried with a flood of acid tears,
burning his lost soul-strangled in a binding chain.
poison rained down on the angel's land,
as man's sins grow from embryos,
the dragon breathes his lustful demand,
from his mountain top-high plateau.
from the east-a cooling wind will blow,
and a lotus will grow out of the burning sands,
thus starting a change inside the embryo,
casting all from the darkness covering the angels' lands.
the dragon's breath will hold no fear,
when you open the recesses of your mind,
the wizard becomes the inner seer,
as you listen to the silence-and the kind.
darkness strength weakens as it heals,
when you turn the ancient-wheels.
A single pill rests on the counter--
quiet, small, almost polite.
I told myself it would stay that way.
But days grew thinner,
hours frayed at the edges
and the quiet promise began to hiss.
Friends laughed. I nodded.
My reflection wavered in the glass,
someone familiar yet gone.
The pull was slow - like water eroding stone,
soft at first, then urgent, unstoppable.
I chased the calm it offered,
unmindful of the shadows it left behind,
the nights pulsing with my heartbeat,
the mornings hollowed and quiet.
One day, I reached for air instead...
for the sharp taste of morning,
for voices that held me without judgment,
for a hand that said;
“You are not this. You are still you.”
Healing does not arrive in a flare.
It creeps softly, day by day
teaching the heart to see once more,
to taste the colors that were dimmed,
to carry the weight of the world
without letting it break the soul.
Time cures most everything
And helps to heal the breaks,
But shortages of resources
Tense and test the zeal,
Creating less of what time makes
And more for it to heal.
silent wounds turn stubborn into strength,
over broken earth, courage takes slow root,
under each scar, light relearns the language of living.
The poet knows that broken things
still catch and hold the light,
that even shattered verses
can illuminate the night.
We write our way through tangled thoughts,
untangle knots with rhyme,
transform the chaos in our minds
to music, line by line.
Each word a small rebellion
against the urge to hide,
each poem proof that even pain
can blossom into pride.
So let the ink flow freely
through the labyrinth of care—
for in the act of writing down,
we learn that we are there.
Not lost, not gone, not broken past
the power to create,
but human, whole, and worthy of
the stories we translate.????????????????
I remember! I recall how good– no,
how great it feels to feel so good!
I remember the bright colours
in the rainbows after a storm.
I remember the trees, the rivers, the critters,
the peace of our world.
I remember how to get excited,
to have goals and plans– fantastic dreams!
I remember the love I feel from my friends, family, pets,
loved ones, who I’m lucky to have.
I remember that I can be grateful for all of
the simple things that I am graced with in this life.
I remember to create, to write, and to draw,
to bring about something new.
I remember the stars as they twinkle overhead,
specks of light in the dark of night.
I remember that I can care for myself,
love myself as much as I do for others.
I remember the joy I find in a good book,
in getting dressed up, in delicious food.
I remember flowers and rocks and bees,
all of the tiny things I love to notice.
I finally remember how to live vicariously,
how to enjoy and embody the free spirit inside.
Tanka Triptych Poetry Contest // Sponsored by: John Andersen
( 1st Place )
Written: August 26, 2025
the waiting
beside the old chair
my guitar waits in stillness
strings asleep in dust
the moment my fingers reach
the silence bends into sound
the voice
a low trembling voice
rises from its wooden chest
shaping all my hours
midnight sorrow braided through
with the thread of restless hope
the afterglow
when the song drifts off
its breath remains inside me
soft as ember-glow
guiding me to start again
with a heart that learns to heal
Let The Flowers Grow Again Poetry Contest// Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 26, 2025
There are days the globe feels heavy,
when the garden does not answer back,
and every stem bows under the weight of rain.
I walk among the silence,
touching soil with trembling hands,
wondering if beauty remembers me
if blossoms still dream beneath the dark.
Yet even in the hushed, forgotten corners,
a pulse remains.
Hidden beneath the globe,
roots hold fast in quiet
keeping the echo
of a vanished sun.
I believe, when gentler winds arrive,
and grief begins to loosen its hold,
the earth will speak again.
Blooms will turn their faces upward,
not in rebellion.
So let them grow
not just for the season,
but for every heart that needs reminding-
love is never gone
it only waits to bloom.
Sage healing
Great properties
"holy herb"
LIFE IS A ROLLER COASTER
WITH EVERY TWIST AND TURNS
LIFE CAN HAVE ITS UPS AND DOWNS
LIFE IS A LESSON THAT CAN BE LEARNED.
LIFE IS NEVER PLAIN SAILING
AND ITS NOT MEANT TO BE
EVERY HUMAN IN THIS PLANET
HAVE GOT THEIR OWN PAST HISTORY.
ONE BAD DAY DOESN'T DESERVE ANOTHER
GRAB THE HAND OF A FELLOW MAN
GRAB THE HAND OF YOUR SISTER OR BROTHER
AND HUG EACH OTHER IF YOU CAN.
LIFE IS TOO SHORT
TO WORRY ABOUT WHAT IF AND WHY
BY THE TIME YOU'VE FIGURED LIFE OUT
YOUR LIFE HAS PASSED YOU BY.
The whole Cosmos delights in night dreaming,
Where Sun and Moon entwine in astral projection.
The Cosmos listens to the sky's calling,
Knowing we're part of this great connection.
The forest presents green variety,
For which Moonlight holds great reverence.
Each tree and leaf beckons true piety
As Sunlight shows its high benevolence.
Have you ever felt the Blue Moon's grace,
Or lain beneath the entranced Full Moon?
The sky smiles with Moonlight's magical face,
Shining through the soft trees aligned and tuned.
Healing oneself in nature's vast kingdom
Is to restore the self to wholesomeness.
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