Through lenses cold and ground from mountain glass,
We watched the dying worlds of iron pass.
For generations, every spark we found
Was tethered to a bleeding, broken ground—
The sudden flash of silo doors undone,
The brief, horrific birthing of a sun,
Then ash that drifted like a heavy shroud
To lock a planet in a toxic cloud.
We turned our mirrors to the northern sky,
Expecting just another world to die,
To see Vaeloria’s final signature
Be etched in fire, black and premature.
We braced for the familiar, sudden glare
Of empires burning down their final air.
But what we found across the cosmic deep
Was not the final, static-riddled sleep.
The planet did not burn; it started glowing,
A quiet, silver respiration growing,
As if a willow made of starlight grew
And drank the poison till the sky turned blue.
No high radiation tore the night,
But pulses of a deep, organic light.
A lonely mind had stitched the broken spheres,
And washed away a century of fears.
We leaned into our sights, amazed to see
A world redeemed by a single tree.
The male Hine’s Emerald patrols his cattail fen
low through sedge and seepage
his compound eyes pluck gnats from the air
two yellow bars flash along his thorax
hindwings catch the morning
Chimanimani Mountain mist beads over quartz
the female Rock Threadtail
six black feet braced on the edge
her wing tilted toward the sun
eyes—black
He misses the gnat
darts, veers, halts midair, pivots
his ommatidia fixed on her raised wing
smitten, his heading shifts
the female Rock Threadtail rests above her stream
=======
Black isn't my choice,
But the fearful beats of my voice,
That trains the pure course of my worth,
Which curls out painted soul I was birth.
If being drunk isn't true,
Nothing would be blue.
When sense isn't a black dove,
The soul no doubt lacks love.
Every sense been played a game,
Do sponsor other's fears aflame.
No one is ever wise,
Until thy foolishness is in loves baptize.
Truly, no foolishness is a waste,
Naked are thy knowledge not braced.
Black is beauty,
In its abuse, I've adopted my duty.
I took your name
And held it between my hands
Thumbs on the soft vowels
Fingers braced against the hard consonants
At first it resisted…
A word is trained to stand upright
To behave…to mean
But grief is stronger than meaning
I squeezed
The letters bent
The silent spaces gave way
From the seams of the syllables
Tears slipped free…
Clear and unpunctuated
Too honest for grammar
They fell onto the page
Where dates usually go
Where facts pretend they can hold a life
I kept pressing
Until your name was no longer pronounceable
Until it was only wet and warm
And shaped like remembering
What was left in my hands
Couldn’t be spoken
But it could be kept
I set it down gently
And let the page dry around it
That’s how I learned…
Some names don’t survive being said
But they live forever
In how they made us weep
Morning
finds my window
still open to birdsong,
lets the sunlight in through your void,
softly.
Hallway
holds old echoes
of your vanished footsteps,
I count while I remember you,
walking.
Sorrow
breathes in the void,
exhales your hushed absence.
I learn to hold blankness in heart,
always.
My mind
rakes memory
where you reverberate.
The echo hums inside my chest,
alive.
Time’s stride
doesn’t trample you,
it teaches me new pace
to walk braced with reminiscence,
forlorn.
My body braced my brain
as Nature
replaced that rain.
Ping! Pang! THWACK!
I trembled from each teasing
of those deep pops
that smacked the supermarket’s roof
and pounded the parking lot.
I gazed out the glass door
and eyeballed the glitter
of cold and bald hail.
The opaque ice
littered the concrete lot,
disturbing me with
oddball beauty.
CRASH!
Thunder threatened
my inner calm,
ringing my ears with rage.
CRASH! WOOSH!
Wind joined the thunder,
sweeping past the entrance
and slamming filthy rain
into the ground.
Peace of heart
reigns, braced upon truth
midst fake news
showing hope
radiating compassion
while sharing God's grace.
Rudolph, the leader of Santa's reindeer,
adjusted his nose and gave the all clear
to steer Santa well with his braced flashlight.
But one Christmas Eve, he sneezed during flight!
My Aunt Ruby was a bingo fanatic.
Every Friday she'd get her hair done ~
a visit to the 'Strands To Go' salon.
She left feeling like a graceful queen.
Friday nights were sacred at the bingo hall.
She'd pull out her money from her purse
and buy as many bingo cards as possible
then head to her favourite table to wait.
She'd light a cigarette to calm the nerves
and say a little prayer hoping to win big.
Someone had to win the jackpot ~ why not her.
She prepared her dabber and braced herself.
The bingo caller was always right on time.
Her cards always ready and perfectly aligned.
She waited with bated breath for numbers called
loud and clear as they possibly could be.
And so it was that every week on Friday,
Aunt Ruby spent her time doing what she loved best:
smoking, dabbing, and chatting among other devotees
... even coming home odd times with some cash winnings.
AP: 1st place 2025
I don’t recognize this container I’m in.
Where did it come from and when?
It happened overnight, I thought I had time.
I thought I had braced myself for this inevitable transition.
But when the obvious became real
I was still caught off guard
Not willing now to sanction this transmutation.
It’s frustrating being forced to accept these changes.
I never agreed, show me where and when I signed up for it!
My mind tricked me.
The way I think is childlike and silly.
But the other day I went to scratch my head, and what I saw on my arms,
Made me feel scammed and caused me dread!
The fish scale, wrinkles and hanging muscles.
These can’t be my arms they’re my grandmothers.
I looked closer at this organism
And was astonished to find so many areas falling behind.
Where are the protocols in place to prevent this?
Where are the protocolist, The manufacturers warranties,
And general implements and installments.
I paid in all my life
And this is the assurance my insurance gives me.
Damn, I wish I would have read the small print.
Satin darkness on silent flight
in blank concave cauldron in sight,
condensed onyx film of dense night,
floating in cosmic grandeur high,
shapes the lattice of seamless sky.
Silk tapestry spreads in space slow
from halcyon horizon’s glow,
fading away in deep hollow
where silver plasma glitters bright,
exuding deep celestial light.
Stars sprout one by one far away
where echoes of flush silence sway,
melodies the soul strings replay
in space concert of the supreme,
the symphony of sequined dream.
Eternal time’s facets glide
in ether of space inside,
where consciousness sparks reside
with glow of divinity
in field of infinity.
Through seamless emotive space,
the flashes of essence race,
braced by dazzling cosmic grace
in waves of verve sequins pure
of glowing heavenly lure…
arcane.
The hands of the clock do not tick,
they tremble.
Every second feels like a warning,
a drumbeat pulling us closer
to something we pretend not to see.
The air is heavy with omens.
The sky bleeds strange colors at dusk,
as if it knows
our arrogance has reached its peak.
We build towers higher,
we burn the ground hotter,
we pray to machines
and call it progress.
But deep down,
we hear it,
the grinding of gears behind the universe,
the slow unraveling
of a world stretched too thin.
This is the dark side of belief:
when prophecy becomes memory,
when chaos is not coming,
but already here.
And yet,
there is still a choice.
To turn away from the fire
or walk straight into it.
To keep our heads bowed in sleep
or lift them,
eyes open,
hearts braced,
ready to face the storm we made.
The clock burns.
The shadows lengthen.
And in this fragile moment,
I wonder,
are we doomed,
or are we finally awake?
I braced my heart
The moment I found you
Too risky, perhaps
But what’s riskier still
Than never daring at all?
Woodland to saunter
Braced up across hilltops,
Tendrils of leaves curl like locks
Fresh the mist sprinkling my face.
An airspray of radiant mist
Flows on her grasses evergreen
Till birdland stirs and whistles..
Joy in her field's embrace.
Velvet lays on ground
My dream-like eyes twinkle,
While blooms come dancing
A raucous merry-go-around;
The light tap on the skin,
Curious heart so ravenous
Through every magical whim.
Somewhere to surrender,
Melting down my cheeks
Upon the forest floor
The nature of my inner beast
Drips from thrill of wonder
From rare absence of reason,
A moment where innocence drifts
In wilderness ' arms blessing seasons,
The childlike creature in me
Soars into ladders of bliss!
“The silence fades with a soft embrace”
in the undulating landscape with swerving life stream.
The concert of murmur cascades with mesmeric melody
in the rapture ripples of the whispering breeze,
the sound of music flies past me, braced by spell of silence.
My aloneness walks me in the desolate wasteland
with my serrated shadow trailing your fading footprints
through the quietude of the sequined moonbeam,
until you see me as a spellbound quintessence,
configured in the silhouetted contours of silence.
Touched by faint flow of silence your face glows vibrant,
the radiant beauty flows with charming trance
through my enthralled still senses.
My gleaming heart dances to the tune of music,
as you make the serenading silence within me so unique.
As the rising sun tints your charismatic calmness
with the patina of hued tide in the sea of tranquility,
I swim blissfully in its amorous waters
with my dreams dancing in the rhythm of aureate yearning
in the shimmering shore of swathing golden silence.
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