William Kelii Kekaula Poet Rhyme

The Awakening

In the digital kitchen where metaphors boil,
I cast my rhymes into the simmering soup,
Hoping for gold in the luminous toil,
Watching the cursor in a silvery loop.

A notification blooms—a digital flower—
First place!  The screen turns into a glowing violet,
I am a giant for one shining hour,
Wearing a crown made of a pristine sonnet.
The poets applaud with binary applause,
My words are like pearls in a silken sack,
Suspended high above the gravity laws,
Without any intention of looking back.

Then comes the speechlessness—a vast, white void,
Another contest, another empty plate,
My rhyme is shattered, a paper humanoid,
Left in the digital vestibule of fate.
The soup is bitter, the pixels turn to grey,
I drown in the stanzas that nobody reads,
Watching my reputation drift away,
Among the respectable mentioned weeds.

I am climbing a ladder made of commas,
Falling into a valley of exclamation points,
Winning and losing, the constant dramas,
Where the screen aches in its digital joints.
The winner is a ghost in a tuxedo,
The loser is a shadow on the wall,
Yet both are feeding the same hungry ego,
In the soup that tastes like nothing at all.

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sara Etgen-Baker February 15, 2026 at 4:58 PM what a fun and delighful poem...I especially liked: I am climbing a ladder made of commas, Falling into a valley of exclamation points, Winning and losing, the constant dramas, Where the screen aches in its digital joints. The winner is a ghost in a tuxedo, faving William Kelii Kekaula February 15, 2026 at 5:26 PM I welcome your highlights and praise.