The squirrel stood before the jack-o'-lantern
as though attending a lecture.
Light spilled through the carved grin,
goldening his whiskers,
his paws,
the small gray fur of his chest.
The pumpkin gazed outward
with its permanent astonishment.
The squirrel gazed inward.
Neither moved.
For a moment,
the evening seemed to contain
two different kinds of mystery:
one illuminated from within,
the other asking why.
( extended sonnet )
o there's a twilight magic midst the mist
it floats between the eventide and dawn
attending winds of fancy, heaven-kissed
that billow with sweet breaths of Avalon
so waiting on a hope 'til gloaming's gone
a sea of suns to cast your dreams upon
o there is an enchantment thru the night
that dances with dark charm and reverie
it holds all yearnings in its bosom, bright
and waits for your desire to set them free
to plumb the inky depths of midnight sea
and loose your sleep's imaginings-to-be
o there are wonders in the evening’s air
thus brought to full fruition in your sleep
all spun to threads of artfulness and care
and woven into wishes, grand and deep
a tapestry of moonbeams meant to keep
the secrets of the twilight in its creep …
and ev’ry soul who tends that great expanse
obliges your sweet dreaming … as they dance.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
Words can serve to soften an unintended offense by
engaging attention, admitting fault and displaying selflessness.
"My bad", or more commonly, "I'm sorry" and "Forgive me"
In any language, they are a means to discovery, détente and delight-
Je suis desole, Es tut mir Leid, Lo lamento
Choosing to be heard honestly, the right words are crucial to
lightening the load, bandaging broken-ness as well as harboring hope.
And in addition, the voice tone, facial expression and body stance
are worth attending to in order to establish a sincere apology.
Attending a Greyhound Dog race
Blowing dust in my face
Placing a bet
Hoping no regret
The race was about to start
Soon it will be a race of determination as a depart
The gates will soon hound’s maneuver
It will be swift and quick
Chasing an electronic rabbit encouraging them on
Those Hound’s never catch
They are kicking up dust in the wind
The speed using their legs
Every ounce of endurance
The Hound’s going around bends with assurance
Mustering who is the winner to be
Keen eyes like an eagle and wise like an owl
The race will soon come to an end
The victor will be announced
The last stretch
The winner is “BOUNTY”
Best of the best
Champion in cheers
Won my bet
Right choice having no regret.
Lower mind is in head, soul’s seat in heart
but making bilocation as the norm,
employing both together, a learnt art,
positions us in a benign bliss storm,
yet to call of life too we do conform,
illumined by rays of the central sun,
attending to chores that need to be done.
Fairest flamingo friend
lithe and lovely
answering to no one
motionless and beautiful
inviting the sun to set in the same color of pink
nestled in a corner of a refreshing waterway
gracefully attending the needs of the lake
outrageously gorgeous in the twilight of day
When she entered a room
To visit with her folks
Rather than ask about well-being
Her immediate labor they invoked
He brought them a gift
One he had labored for so long
Rather than be grateful and amazed
They asked him to go mow the lawn
She acquired accommodation
Through a connection by chance
Rather than rejoicing for independence
They worked on without a second glance
He was awarded a professional prize
Requiring a community feast
Rather than attending with pride
They saw him as feeding the beast
This is the end of obscurity
Where identity has no respect or seat
We choose to know and love self
As we release all the dirt caked on our feet
Written by Trudy Schrader on 06-29-2026
When I look at myself
in the mirror, I see an
18-year-old teen who
grew up too young.
10 years before 18,
I was an 8-year-old
girl living off food
stamps and strangers.
10 years before 8,
my mom was 27
and my brother
was born.
10 years before 27,
my mom was 17
and attending a
tailoring school
her uncle had paid.
10 years before 17,
my mom was 7 and
had her first comm-
union. 6 years later,
she would lose
an arm.
50 years later,
I am 28 years old,
and when I look
in the mirror,
I'm still 18 years.
It's been 10 years
since then,
nothing has changed,
not for the better,
not for the worse.
10 years of continuous
time loop and I stay
stranded in my thoughts.
My brother left,
My sisters are still kids,
my parents needing help,
I stay stranded along
the way.
Has God left me since then?
I wish I knew his thoughts,
I wish I knew his plans,
I wish I knew what comes
after this life if at all
I make it.
Sometimes I wonder
if I followed a different
path back then,
would 10 years ago
made a difference?
The Sun rises in a flash of enthusiasm,
as birds flock in delicate swirls.
The lake lets loose its solemn mists,
to enchant the finely dressed trees.
It's springtime in the Rockies,
with its tumultuous pantheon.
Those towering Majestics,
that burst with excitement.
The train of moving images,
signing Gods greatest works.
The tell of beautiful obelisks,
that rule the attending fields.
and whose shadows point,
to the path of potentialities.
Where brave men stand...
with their Towering Dreams!
Every dreamer born may
an escapist become.
When emotional survival
is bad weather stifled
fantasy arrival is
vital as heart and head
weapons that reckon
with false hitting bits of
regrets spittled resin.
Escapists have naive
need beliefs that seek
relief lacking clues.
Not intuitively glued,
they flare prime illusions
then meet blues intrusion.
Rue immersions disburse
layered bruises into
their fantasy threads.
Escapists do not pencil
lists to assist their trips.
Without practice or
attending lessons, an
escapist will maximize an
ideal conception from
foggy appeals and provide
their own transportation
to vaguely arrive in a bog.
Soon dizzy from the tizzy
of too little information,
they’ll deny hearing
reality’s jeering cry.
Easier and freer to eat
it all down for soon
the bog ball will end
and only they need to know
the why in the what that they did.
Phoenix-like I found the morning sky
and ascended into my natural self
which was busy attending to silence
and energies unaccountable, always
waiting to meet the new expectations
of life and earth and stream of time
bringing along new visions
of what might be, has been,
is and ever unfolds itself
to the expectant, waiting
heart and mind.
Christopher M. Swan 2009
o bright lives twilight’s magic in the mist
it floats between the eventide and dawn
attending winds of fancy, heaven-kissed
that billow with sweet breaths of Avalon
awaiting on a hope that gloaming's gone -
the sea of suns to cast your dreams upon
o there is veiled enchantment in the night
that dances thru dark charms and reverie
it holds your yearnings in its bosom, bright
and waits for your desires to set them free
to plumb the murky depth of midnight sea
then loose your sleep's imaginings-to-be
o there are wonders bound the evening air
thus brought to full fruition with your sleep
then spun to threads of artfulness and care
and woven soft to wishes, grand and deep
the tapestry of moonbeams meant to keep
those secrets that a dusk holds in its creep
o all the souls who tend that great expanse …
will see to your sweet dreaming …
as they dance.
79.
Wrong Turn
On the time I left the straight path
Unfathomed anxiety teemed my heart
Ever doubted the resolve of my brain
If it would delight or harness some pain
The only sure thing was that
I only earned another's wrath
When from discontent
Formed I blemish intent
I became a speck
On the eyes of the meek
Abnormal fantasy
Drained all sanity
Filled with derision
To a righteous person
Worshipped childhood idol
Whom I thought would heed my call
Thought I'd found a savior
Who would do me a favor
Upon turning away
From his opponent's way
Onwards orange avenue
Belching fumes towards yellow hue
Traffic disturbed
Many eyes to me turned
On wrong turn entrapped
By stupid mishap
Was towed from the highway
After causing disarray
In proper seclusion
The transgressor was thrown
Behind the shadows anguishing
No orange attending
In the end it was yellow
Who ransomed ex-fellow.
-11/20/2011
(Dumarao)
*Yellow Poems Collection
At ten til two, some lie awake,
Attending too sighs we ruminate;
Ten and two, love drives to where sunlight hides and waits,
Yet in pursuit, nights erode of what chance may make.
Amending truths our tomorrows wake,
And then the soon borrows the hours late.
Despite red moons raising tides like fate,
Attentive proof reminds of the coming breaks.
We can never know of what tomorrow craves.
Certainty can speak with gentle lips, for words to slate;
What more can 2026 be other than its falling flake?
Rationality adores the harvests they slickly take,
And arrogantly still, I feel tomorrow's grip ought to be sold a bit too late.
’Tis but another tomorrow that hides among many tricks, where ideas apprehend our stakes.
It’s with hope that follows the light that empties their mix, so plans can lessen the opaque.
While tending to sleep to grow the want to wake,
Let this be proof to find of what I may create; I can shape.
The new year is all but a day, and with love I plague every chance I’m given to make new mistakes,
And of the new choices yet to decay.
2026, I have hope for your ache.
He once through a party 35 million dollars I'm told
Today worth 220 million dollars Spent by Kristi Nome
Never mention the current famine, with 80,000 deaths
Because he wanted a party, a Ballroom to empress
They call it Annexation the taking of one's land
Just like The Gulf of Mexico originally in the plan.
He traveled trips around the world
Shaking hands his etiquette unfurled
Attending funerals of high degree
Charles de Gaulle, John F. Kennedy
Calling himself king of kings
And his kingdom once again seen
But to reality was different scene
Punishing Coups and Plotters
With violence against democracy
Poverty was forgot
Disguised with Peace Conferences
Silence is preferred
Human rights, Economic Progress, Civil Liberties
Though listed they go deferred
The signing of a contract called a Treaty
A nation at war a nation of the needy
Two different languages hiding the facts
What kind of men would do such an act
Some say to others why did they hide the facts
The comparison of each shows a picture to me
What we see coming and what things will be
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