I step outside as the day thins beyond the balcony,
noticing how the wind nudges the empty ,chairs,
and how the last warmth fades from our cups.
A sparrow startles somewhere beyond the balcony,
its small flutter drifting between the chairs,
as if it, too, recalled the hands that once lifted these cups.
I breathe in that faint sweetness hovering near the balcony,
thinking of the conversations that lived inside these chairs,
the way morning warmth once rose from our cups.
Evening drifts onto the balcony, touching the stillness of the chairs and glancing off the cups.
In purpose to uplift the spirit
I got up and said hey ho
I thought, if you could hear it
You’d likely say, hello
I heard your muffled cough
Through the ajar kitchen door
I dashed to see you, love
I passed the corridor
I popped into the sitting room
And checked the bedroom too
I smelled no Gatineau perfume
I saw no sign of you
It wasn’t a trick of tired mind
I’ve heard your cough, I swear
But you were out of sight
Just when I thought you’re there
Inside a room, or maybe
Out in the pretty wild
My garden on the balcony
It could’ve made you smile.
outside the bedroom
of my old, old, old apartment
is a cozy small balcony I created for
relaxing my mind can rest and go
where it will to places unexpected
I can spend hours in the shade of day
at my little table with plants here and there
perhaps with a cup of tea
or petting the cat or maybe reading a book
often in the evening I light candles
to create a mood . . . cozy
My balcony called to me.
The sun came out for afternoon tea.
We bonded in quiet harmony.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Under your balcony
I sing for you an aria
and hereby do profess my love to you
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Romeo and Juliet were fiction
as if that's not enough
her balcony in Verona
originally a medieval sarcophagus
no more than a tourist attraction
may also have been a water trough
and the Dal Capello family building
where he posed 'through yonder window?'
'but soft' and completely off-the-cuff
to which it's now attached
was once a 13th-century inn
but as stories go really quite unmatched
With apologies to William Shakespeare
On a balcony high
Soft breeze cuddles my cheeks
Sparkling stars seize my eyes
Peace flutters in the air
Sweet thoughts invade my mind
There`s no space for a sigh.
by my balcony~
snowflakes peeped in cold embrace
dawn breeze bit like rime
it freshened my rose~
a gift in a china vase
held tight in my heart
a treasure of love~
a balm for recent heartache
in winter's cold stare
I thought it'd decay~
since its flowers looked wilted
yet it glowed in blooms
the cold air its friend~
its frozen stalk bore fresh buds
that blossomed in frost
its fresh fragrance flowed~
bees traveled in snow disguise
to sip its pollen
but one afternoon~
petals vanished in a bleat—
winter claimed its own
I still dreamt of it~
dried petals on my front yard
whispering in snow
From such a place, I view
The sea of life for a few
And then and now I drew —
Charting maps for a crew.
Oh, how i wish you could see,
The view from my balcony,
That is amassed with gentle swaying trees,
And the occasional hum of honey bees.
Down the long winding path,
Little children playfully dance,
Practicing their form and stance,
Far from their mothers protective glance.
Young lovers absent-mindedly clasp hands,
Strolling along with their heavy school bags,
Looking out at the great green expanse,
Forgetting the rest of their day's plans.
As the sun shifts and begins to set
The birds squawk and screech as they begin to fret,
Pleading to their light “no not yet!”
“The day's needs have still not been met!”
Oh how I wish you could see the view from this height,
It's vastness and colours are truly a sight,
Being forever drenched in all its abundant light,
It is my joyful respite.
1 o'clock morning morning moonrise shining, poetry in my mind. Is it a sign of a masterpiece? What will I ever be besides a poet. I write to right the songs. I am a poet. I think I know I show it. Nothing more than expert experience and exceptionality in my reality. Aah! Chilly out here in the brisk night atmosphere
Distant noises in the morning
Distant morning spread its flair
Got no learning from the yearning
Boys are riding boards out there
Something metal knocks on metal
Birds are flapping down and up
I take off the whistling kettle
For the instant coffee cup
Comes a rare span of silence
And among the flowers I
Sit and gaze at floating islands,
Formless islands in the sky.
Ocean view is gift
Few steps to balcony
Immersed the blue sea.
It was covered by a blanket of moss
with a wood fence that looked as sturdy as
a young child’s craft project, stretching across
a patio, the memory of jazz.
It had a tower on the balcony,
reaching towards the moon in the midnight sky.
A witches’ tower made with alchemy
in which a kidnapped girl, hostage, would cry.
It has a fierce lean, rivaling that of
the famous Piza ruin, so extreme
it looks it will fall if you give a shove.
The castle, the image, must be a dream.
An old green forest, decaying behind
the stone castle, which I’m sure you can find.
Roses spread with lace garter;
Boutonnière and charter.
Green meadow eyes clung to lass.
Juliet was upper class.
A shepherd was he, with crook.
All gentle men, she forsook.
Under the willow, the wind
Warmed petals with no rescind.
Tempo was slow with his bride
Deep smile, a groom could not hide.
Underneath his ruddy beard,
“Reverie,” the garden cheered.
How lucky was a poor man
To find a robust woman.
Off the balcony she came.
Her shepherd, never the same.
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