As I browsed this morning's science news,
what I read knocked off my shoes.
Now, the entire educated world reflects,
understanding now that FISH HAVE NECKS!
....and in the air, a million "What the heck!"s
In shadows where the lost
souls dwell,
Whispers weave through
the air, a spell.
Their eyes, like embers,
flicker bright,
Echoes of laughter, a
haunting night.
From depths of fire, they
rise and swell,
Strangers, yet kin, in this
darkened shell.
At that sacred hour when the light concedes,
And the sun, a tired monarch, slowly bleeds
Across the horizon's wide and waiting stage,
The world turns over a new, dimmer page.
The shadows, long and languid, start to creep,
And lull the noisy, waking world to sleep.
The sky, a bruise of amber, rose, and rust,
Surrenders all its certainties to dust.
A final, fleeting, fiercely golden flare,
Then softens to a hush in the evening air.
Our voices, once so bold, now fall away,
As thoughts too loud for daylight start to sway.
A loneliness, a quiet passenger,
Sits down with us, a familiar visitor.
And in its company, a ghost of romance
Waltzes on the air, a single, saddened glance
At love once held, now just a fading hue,
A part of day the night has swallowed too.
This is the sundowner, more than just a drink,
A ritual upon the mind's own brink.
A pause, a breath, a moment held in glass,
Where what has been and what will be both pass.
A reckoning with all the light has burned,
And all the truths the darkness has not learned.
A sweetness in the letting go, the fall,
Suspended, in the quiet, after all.
THE CABIN IN THE WOODS
Deep in the woods on a hot summer’s day,
where light dances through the trees,
slicing the air, a sublime ballet
of light inspired by a breeze.
Sultry, thick, musty, pine-scented air,
sweet ambrosia to my senses.
The trees are my tribe, consistent and safe,
unconstrained by family fences.
This grand oasis within itself
compels Eden’s garden to cry.
On the clearing’s edge, nestled in the brush,
a cabin with a creek nearby.
A makeshift shack, my labor’s reward,
my psyche’s favorite place to be.
When welcome is not where it should be found,
I’ve my paradise made for me.
Nutritious is Nancy’s diet, not nigh naughty
holistic homely ~ fruit, grains, coloured roots
she jogs, practices yoga daily, beautifully suits
knows body is Spirit’s temple, not high haughty
Into blue sea she dips frame, pure water sips
consciously serving cells new start unfolds
Sun shining vit D steady all right, light holds
temperance becomes her norm, chaos flips
Deep breathing clear air a habit to comely care
work play rest, due ratios for adventurous year
clarity, decisiveness with peace positive dear
Nancy will so attain desired plans fabulous fair
Surrender outcomes of goals in tantamount Trust
to God's Will ~ Reverence be holy Just
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Honorable Mention (Contest : Jan.26
New Start : Sponsor : Miranda Hurley)
The magic windmill of my mind
Turns spirals through space and time
Pumping out the soggy mush
Making furrowed fields green again and lush
Arborescent dendritic forms do grow
Producing flowers like plum blossoms
In the late winter snow
With increasing warmth, the fog does clear
And great billowing clouds now slowly appear
Out of the previous thick grey morning air
The sky above these fields again turns warm
In the blue virgin dome of heaven
Through which we now see home
The song birds sing what they have sung before
New trees grow up from the underworld stony floor
Breathing out into the air, a living thing
In preparation for a luminous and glittering Spring
An idea is an intake of air, a sudden gust of wind awakening
thoughts once dusty, suggestions hidden below cobwebs.
An idea is the putting on of glasses, clarified and cleansed,
cluttered less so now by the daze or malaise of time.
But the choice that follows the idea murmurs.
The choice balks, offering visions of ‘what if?’
and forks in the road. The choice sheds the skin
of the idea. It reveals consequences in bone,
in scale, in claw and print in the dried mud of no going back.
But what of the grey? The grey in between, the grey betwixt?
This sleeps soundly. It yawns and stretches in bed, then
curls around the contentment of that golden idea – yes! –
before the rabbit hole shadows and chasms of the definite.
Stay in that grey middle, this grey before an after, the grey twilight
bridge that holds an idea spawned here, and a choice made, there.
Written: December 06, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote "Winter's white tapestry invites us to pause, inhale the serenity, and take shelter in snowflakes". By Poet
*******************
The shiny trail sprawls forth at my feet,
in silk spike where snow and shade meet.
The world, a quilt of gems, shone bright.
as silence snow slides spumy, a fading flight.
Each flake, a spell, captivating to the eye.
A lover's caress, gentle yet daringly nigh.
I bide in tranquility, engulfed in his shine.
Gradually, nighttime is marred in a shrine
He strokes my hair and lingers upon my cheek.
His smooches are halcyon and meek
Peace hangs in the air, a whisper of light glow
His arms wrap me in the chill of winter's snow.
His rhythm melds with mine, serene and deep.
I had a sense of sweep that I had to reap
Snow is transformed into a beautiful tune.
A bond of love that fails to endure and swoon.
She whispers back, "I love you, stay with me,"
Yet I know her gift is a pure banshee.
For soon he fades, his memory will decay,
a spirit of winter melting fast away.
High up in the air, a kite -
the wind helps it take fun flight.
All the while, the sun shines bright.
Everything seems so right.
What could possibly go wrong?
From the East, Godzilla; from the West, King Kong.
under porch, acorn suspended in air, a spider web
In silhouette of fervor hovering
That meanders vivid upon the night
The hum of music from so long ago
Romances the air... a twirl, a lyric
While tunes of mist stir of rhapsody
Along the harbor to fling and gently play,
A rhythm of craving beats, as lips intone
love's silent quiver, still as secret whisper;
From this earnest heart deepened by time
When dulcet songs of wind now fondle
Breaths' charmed trails gushing on- and on--
And words become an impassioned call
Deepening my hymnal interludes;
As our mellow kiss jangles like chime of bells
Slithering like a windblown mantra
....Luring my beloved at sea to come home.
lizardly he slithers in
nursing his sloe glass of gin
lightning flashing from his eyes
functioning to disguise
who and what he really is
rolling pairs of snake-eyes
in the air a venomous hissing
is there something I am missing
Days Alone
Here I stayed
when the silence broke—
the air, a breath
that barely woke me.
Your name lit up my phone,
but the meaning felt long gone.
I cried alone
to feel the sorrow,
a night too dark
to hold tomorrow.
The rain stood still,
in borrowed time,
each drop a pause
in my decline.
Soft, endless,
unheard—I spoke.
The truth was raw,
my voice near broke.
No comfort came,
no hand to hold.
Just aching hours
growing cold.
My tears weren’t rage.
They weren’t despair.
They were the proof
that no one cared.
You never came.
You never tried.
And I, in silence,
sat and cried—
until the ache
became my guide.
Until I no longer
needed
anyone
to say they tried.
Thoubert Larus
COFFEE AND CROISSANTS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Coffee's rich scent, a drink at morning’s first light,
its aroma wafting through the air, a sweet delight.
The delicious croissant, flaky, buttery, and fine,
a pastry perfect in its semi-circular design.
Together they unite, such a splendid pair,
coffee's boldness and the croissant's international flair.
So, here's to coffee and the croissant's charm,
a morning ritual best consumed when both are warm.
A DOG'S LIFE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I reign as king in a sovereignty supreme.
I sit by your side gazing, the world whizzing by.
From a rolled down window, a kaleidoscope of colors mesmerize.
My ears flapping wildly, a joyful delight.
The rush of air, a thrill to my canine soul.
As we speed along, the highway our open road.
The engine purrs, a tranquil hum.
The sun beats down, a warm embrace.
The miles fly by, like autumn leaves dancing down a street.
I feel alive in this wild, open space.
The scent of freedom, a fragrance so sweet.
The thrill of adventure, a canine story to tell.
My tail wags freely, a happy beat.
The wind in my fur, a soothing caress.
Surely this canine has been blessed.
The sun begins to set, a fiery glow.
The stars appear, a twinkling show.
The engine slows, a gentle ease.
Our journey's come to an end.
I snuggle close, a contented sigh.
For it's a dog's life, and I am hypnotized.
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