Is it strange
That I saw a bit of flapping curtain
And thought of you?
These rainy days do go on,
And the soft pitter-patter outside
Reminds me of your warmth.
Oh to be enveloped by you again.
The chilly breeze is ever so cold,
But my heart's not out there.
It's with you.
You keep me warm.
And safe.
You're a broken mirror
That sits in the trash can I live,
Reflecting the sky
And giving me hope.
I miss you.
So much.
I hope to see you soon.
Mirror,
You betray me with your cruel precision.
You hold my face hostage in your glass prison,
shattering me into reflections that no longer recognize themselves.
I have begged you for honesty,
yet you pour hallucinations across my skin—
a thousand mouths whispering,
a thousand eyes unblinking.
Once, I thought you were truth.
Now I know you are only a stage,
where light rehearses the trick of permanence.
When you break,
I will gather your shards and drink them like bitter wine.
Night carried him to me;
longing to stay near
a little while more,
to walk with him,
to feel him within reach.
But the dream ended.
Morning came
and I woke alone.
He has his own life.
People who need him,
laughter and love around him.
I walk alone,
rooms empty, nights quiet,
my heart missing him.
I keep that dream with me…
his hand close to mine,
our hearts threading together
for the smallest of moments.
If the dream must end,
let it end with him close,
two shadows side by side,
a love that lived
though only for a whisper of hours.
Violins tuned in distant dark
heartstrings strummed calmly wait for warmer moonlight
~ melodies conjuring the sweetest memories
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
I step beyond my front door, shoes brushing dew
And the air is crisp, familiar-something old, something new.
The sky unfolds in pale gold, the sparrows sing the same tune,
And I swear, I've wandered here before, beneath the waking moon.
Sunlight dapples over lawns just as it always does,
Neighbors wave, dogs bark, the world's gentle hum abuzz.
Every scent, each rustle, is a whisper from the past:
The rustling trees greet me-echoes that forever last.
My feet trace the sidewalk cracks, memory's soft parade,
I know the way the breeze feels, the shifting light and shade.
Deja vu in every heartbeat, in every glance I steal-
It seems, like yesterday, this day was wholly real.
Yet, as I wander outward, with wonder and with grace,
I find new meaning hidden in every time-worn place.
Perhaps I've lived this day before, or dreamed it in the night,
But outside, in the morning sun, the world feels just as right.
There will aways be ruins
Love and pain are tangible
theres scars to be felt by our fingertips , maps to our sacred innermost places
the altars we built there
There will always be ruins, remnants of life
Pictures become vessels to transport those left behind ,small houses for memories
A time before the collapse
Where we all become drunk on Nostalgia
There will always be ruins
In Hungary
On the train. It’s night. Late at night. I got a late train
Rushing from the airport, then closed one of the central
Train station. Get the metro and bus to the next available
train station. The idea worked. The way to my parents
Thank you for the idea, dear security man at Keleti Railway Station
Home, to my parents’ home, where I come from. Grandparents
Memory, tradition, more, good to arrive at this house, Memory
Unforgettable childhood, laughing with my grandfather, I see him
Fantastic, his garden, and the memory of his life. He taught me to be strong
He was a famous sportsman and revolutionary. And a poet. I love his memory.
He sleeping
Living
In the Light
I wrote these words from his earthly home. 08:14 the time. Early sun is yellow. Shiny
He knows my room here. Thank you. My grandfather. I respect you.
I am following you. Your life. Your philosophy. Your guardian angel
But my one is better
Because you are that
Thank you, my life
Good to arrive in your land, house
I keep your memory
In my heart
Seems like yesterday I heard your voice
floating through the window,
calling me in from the street
where childhood games stretched into forever.
Seems like yesterday the seasons felt endless,
summers of bare feet on hot pavement,
winters of breath drawn white against the dark.
We thought the days would never learn how to end.
Seems like yesterday
You were by my side,
steady in the quiet moments.
your eyes full of hope,
Your laugh pulled me forward,
steady and warm.
But life twisted the path
and I lost you
somewhere along the way.
Still…
when the wind brushes the trees.
I swear I hear you…
a part of yesterday
laced into today
reminding me love never leaves,
it only changes shape.
It was not yesterday
I felt a salt mist on my face
nor tomorrow
for now, I am far from the sea
and running free.
It was not today
the brambles
tore my rushing feet,
nor yesterday
for now, I am long past coursing free.
It is not tomorrow
that I will feel the arrows dart,
nor past
for now, others I knew will feel for me.
After all the agonizing years when I drifted,
a day dawns from the debris of hope
with the sunrise aura of the future,
my appetency rises from the dust of dream.
The bursting beams of the rising sun,
slicing through the ether of my emptiness,
carry your essence to my mind I configure
as an urn to contain my universe of memory.
The allure of the affable contours of your face,
assures me I could tone down
my bitter feeling and absolve myself of
the abysmal attribution of dismal discontent.
The flicker of your sparkling smile like a flower,
caressed by the jasmine ripples of zephyr,
flows with your fragrance with whisper of the past,
fills my psyche I craft as a crystalline time capsule.
When floral lattice designs the motif of my longing,
the buds emit the aroma of your redolence.
As the bottle of emotion I open time and again
the perfume of memory suffuses my heart.
1.
Everything happens for a reason
Despite some happenings of chaos
In the changing of the seasons
When the autumn comes to play us
Songs about the withered leaves
That fall down to make a carpet
We can walk beneath the trees
To the local farmers market
But there’s something unassailable
That remains in memory
Though it might be unavailable
Like an access to the tree
You considered mine, and showed me
How it towers by the road
Where I never meant to be
For the reason, still untold
2.
What’s the reason, when it’s gone?
Let’s excuse the reasons if
They’re not evident or strong
Not the points we did achieve
How on earth we met each other
I shall never know, you said
Neither would I, but I rather
Feel our meeting was preset
Darkly through the glass I see
What my memory unfolds
Your sweet smile, your vapes and tea
Macke’s painting on the wall
Why we had to disappear
And this room has lost its view?
What exactly did we miss here?
You can’t tell, and I’ve no clue.
His wedding band: a lifespan archived
AP: 1st place 2025
I sat this morning by the sea,
just some seagulls in my company,
as I stared into the blue infinity.
Once, I would swim and splash and ride
the waves with sea nymphs and nereids.
Now, I can only watch the spray,
but it seems like yesterday.
In those days, though I was small
I could hit a curve or a fastball
in a beautiful arc over the wall.
Once, it sailed beyond the grass
and broke the neighbor's window glass.
Oh, how we would run and play,
on the fields of yesterday.
Like every youth, I soon grew,
and discovered something new,
her laughing eyes I would pursue.
Once, there was a first.
I thought my heart would burst.
Oh, to feel that way today,
ah, but that was yesterday.
As life's repeating cycles spun,
and what had ended had again begun,
I would have a healthy son.
Once, he saw his first butterfly in awe,
and now he practices the law,
while I am old and grey,
as I long for yesterday.
In a hundred years, in the early dawn,
another man will stare upon
the sea, but we will all be gone.
Once, when the future is like the past,
and precious life, folks hold onto fast,
all new people will say,
"It seems like yesterday."
Living close by the Coryndon Museum
(Nairobi National Museum, ca. 1960)
on Forest Road, Museum Hill,
(where The Queen Mother, she once waved to me)
entrance for kids was free
how well I remember it still.
There I met Mary Leakey
and where Louis Leakey
(unpaid curator)
requested reptiles of me as a lark
and they were soon to be
(ca. 1961)
denizens of the Nairobi Snake Park.
I stalked colourful chameleons,
several species even walked our washing line,
but that's not all
I collected and contributed anything and everything
that hopped, skipped, jumped or crawled.
September sunshine is a blessing
we treasure each day of summer lingering
golden honey lavishes candied memories
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2025
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