Majestic lighthouse you still stand
Foundations deep beneath the sand.
Of granite blocks and tapered tower
Uniquely structures staying power.
At dusk, the keeper walked the stairs
Along the way each window checks.
With watchful eyes, the ocean scanned
The routes for those who crossed he planned.
From dusk to dawn, bright signals send
This light shone through optic lens.
Then through the day this lens was cleaned
So, through the night the lighthouse beamed.
The sailors would on him depend
For them, their lives he would defend.
But modern days have seen decline
And rarely now do keepers climb.
But stories; many could be told
From memories lighthouses hold.
Of battles won and lost at sea
That only keeper’s eyes could see.
When the light returns...
A lighthouse never takes you home
its beam circles, then vanishes,
spins, returns, and vanishes again;
reminding the lost, stray, stranded
that light beamed out there can awaken
the lamp readied for your return
moored to the pier within your ribs,
with a heavy hauser belayed to ride
the surging pulse of choppy seas
prowling the wharf, inside a safe harbour,
behind the rocks of an old sea wall,
where the tide ebbs and flows, in and out,
rocking the kerosene ship lantern,
swinging on a wooden ship's beam
waiting for the message in the bottle
to return to sender, assured.
Great sunrise this morning
This time I was able to snag
A few rays, put them in my
Upper shirt pocket, to carry
About. Right off, a driver
Cut me off...reached in, withdrew
And smiled. Boss canceled
My day off – a rush job that
Had to be completed, I withdrew
Another. By the end of the day
They were all gone – Ah, moon-
Light, another opportunity! We
Met~ and the night beamed!
I walked down a hallway
To busy
To angry
To stressed
At the front of the hall was a father
Picking up his little daughter
She couldnt have been older than 5
Blabbering on about a duck she saw
She laughed and he followed
She danced and he followed
And I stood there
Time itself froze on me
Trasported back into younger me
Standing in a room alone
Surrounded by all the fathers and daughters
Laughing, dancing, talking
I was trapped in the center of it all
I stared at that little girl
If skin could turn different colors I would be the darkest green
Ha
How funny is that
To be jealous of a little girl
Who has no control over who her dad is
Just like I have no control over who mine is
I walked past them
She didnt just smile she beamed at me
And I gave the best smile I could
As jealous as I was she got what i wanted
As I was glad she got what I wanted
Cause no one deserves what I got
The sun beamed through her window, and brightened up the air
When the mornings dim moon faded, she saw stardust everywhere
Her little nose softly whistled, and her eyelids gave a wink
When the lampposts in the garden, had all begun to blink
The sunflowers all popped up their heads, looking tall in all their poses
While the tulips and the daffodils, were mingling with the roses
My child woke up from her sleep, and fed water to the plants
Then she sprinkled stardust on them all, to watch them all wake up and dance
Peeking through my bedroom window, and watching my daughter having so much fun
I had to smile when I saw my child, laughing and waving to the sun
Good-bye she spoke in her meek-quiet voice, I'll see you again, Mr. Sun, real soon
But I have to go to school right now, so please come back this afternoon
So, when schooltime was over, and she was skipping her way back home
The sun popped out to stay with her, so she would not skip back alone
The game was cotton, corn, and beans.
But I was never really on that team.
I was never a good fit for work on the farm.
Indeed, that is why it never was a charm.
My heart and mind were never there.
Indeed, that is why I never gave a care.
Such hard and hot labor in those days.
Indeed, intensive labor in the microwave.
Sun beamed down, and sweat poured out.
Indeed, both body and soul were tossed about.
But without agriculture, where would we be?
Indeed, it's simply that it wasn't for me.
For farmers, I have much respect and love.
Indeed, they are more than 'a cut above'.
Starker for the contrast
Despair; what's beamed down on
Than a night-fog under Day's smiled
Burning resolution.
Love story blooms like a rose,
And your the romeo I chose,
I planned on friends to lovers.
Beauty as the tail slowly uncovers,
Turns out we didn´t even last as friends,
guess this is wear the love story ends.
I am gonna blame it on my stupid heart.
Oh if falling inlove was a work of art.
Maybe I am delusional,
Maybe cupid had a cruel goal.
Whatever I will cherish the love story that will never take place,
and I will remember the look on your face.
But maybe someday I will find a real love story,
And my heart will have a victory,
But till then I will try to make it through,
missing you...
Your eyes that beamed with light
And your smile so bright,
Oh goodbye my never-happened-lover
just no my heart may not recover
From this never-will-happen love story.
Those familiar faces of the days far bygone,
The curious, eager looks and the mind blank,
Sometimes, nay ,often haunt and then dawn
On one ,when casual life plays a wont prank ;
And capricious events and happenings drive
The credence ,faith and the sanity to deprive .
The tears in those little gleaming,narrowed eyes
Meant nothing, yet something of pain for sure ,
While the plain empty smiles beamed otherwise
Of retreat or return to the shell and to endure;
The feel of relieving content being just denied
To the little ones who morph as they are pined
To cry and groan till the wail stretches and yond,
And settle with the helpless sigh of exhaustion ;
With some toy or sign for a change ,or a fond
Apt relation to regain the realm of lost caution;
To self-console and revive ,the in drawn shy one
Transforms its own existence to keep up the run
Possessions and life secure centred in the core
Of fear infinite and abstract ,ever trying to aver
And to drive the hurt tender soul to slyly abhor ,
Not knowing the upright from the unjust fervour,
Picking up random values,seeking things sugary,
The stern phase of childhood slinks in to memory
Cosmic alien robot cowboys fly
Life is so hard that my horse is a star
High to escape the Earth in the big sky
We play our robotic songs to comply
Our chrome hearts branded with a neon star
Cosmic alien robot cowboys fly
Stars pulse to charge our glowing circuitry
We race the dark horses to realms afar
High to escape the Earth in the big sky
Our cowboy robots rise and amplify
Star songs beamed out from a spinning pulsar
Cosmic Alien robot cowboys fly
We ride dark horses onward to defy
These handsome cowboys born as superstars
High to escape the Earth in the big sky
Women ride free; they have no fear to die
They reach to hold their bodies from afar
Cosmic Alien robot cowboys fly
High to escape the Earth in the big sky
Her eyes, blue pearls that soothed my soul,
Held me fast and bejeweled maternity.
By her gaze of love, my worth took hold
And a bond was born for eternity.
The light when she smiled, oh the glow
And the stern, loving look of correction.
These led me through highs and lows
And gave my life strength and direction.
Dear mother, you beamed sincerity
In little shrugs or when you waved.
In joy, happiness, grieving and piety
Your eyes, in honest expressions played.
Something transcendent in me raves
And longs for the vision of when
In heaven, revived to see your gaze
My life will be whole again.
Precious few eyes have looked at me
With the God-given sparkle as yours
That could vaporize all despondency
And inspire the greatest of metaphors.
Friend, if you can, gaze again in her eyes
And embrace the moments you're left with.
Too soon her eyes will close where she lies
And the gift of her gaze, will exit.
The autumn sun beamed bright.
It cast its spell upon the land.
Transforming hearts to mush & glitter.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Knowing we are spirit, not body-mind,
constant remembrance holds the key,
focus at all times, with bliss beats aligned,
that our presence may remain free.
With ego at play, we may oscillate,
time and again entering trance,
yet befriending silence, thought forms abate
and we soon straighten our soul’s stance.
We may liken this play as but a game,
wherein as both dreamer and dreamed,
mood and mode tranquil, we fulfil our aim,
our consciousness to heaven beamed.
The air was wet
When they met
Docile clouds: puffs of grey and white
Sparkling light rained from the streetlight
His umbrella kept them dry
At least above the thigh
Her eyes beamed to his
A last goodbye
Their well of love
Had run dry
And yet the skies
Found compromise
As tears well'd in his eyes,
"E'en the skies reminisce
When we would kiss,
Here, on rainy nights like this"
Two hearts aglow
Would stop the show
As the noise and the street
Fell still, "In our antiquity,
Was it really so long ago,
Our hearts, for one another, beat?"
A daughter grabbed the hand of her mother
As they watched the scene unfold
said, the busker, painted gold,
"Oh, brother!",
Joining the hopeful fold
The dam of tears, that would damn her
Crumbled
Her fortressed heart humbled
She always knew deep inside her
He, beside her made her comlpete
Watching her falling tears disappear
on the wet concrete
“I was not born nor have I death. I have no action, good or evil. I am Brahman, stainless, without qualities. How can there be bondage or liberation for me?”
Self or God, both being the same
and manifestation a game,
where freedom is by God-sparks sought,
thought is the tempest to be tamed.
The sense of ego is the blot,
since the seeker who seeks is not
body-mind but in fact the all,
though for now in a mind web caught.
Kundalini births a bliss squall,
within which presence standing tall,
recognises itself as light,
beyond space-time where there’s no wall.
Breath by breath, by day and by night,
in life’s dream where fancy takes flight,
as both the dreamer and the dreamed,
here and now we garner clear sight.
Light of Self in silence redeemed,
nonchalant to illusions streamed,
boundaries blur, we disappear,
as the source wherefrom life is beamed.
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