the red poppy is almost an orange-red
two of my favorite colors, reminding me of bravery
the red -blooded soldiers who are willing to sacrifice everything
a field of these blooms parade about in my mind’s eye
reminding me to be more patriotic not just on special days
I am not warmth denied.
I am clarity revealed.
You call me cold, as if that were a curse.
But cold is not cruelty.
Cold is precision.
Cold is the silence that listens longer than the noise ever could.
I was not born in comfort.
I was forged in exile—cast out by blood, by law, by the trembling hands of those who feared what they could not name.
They called me devil.
They called me waste.
They called me dangerous.
But I did not burn.
I crystallized.
I walk alone, not because I choose solitude,
but because the world chose to shut its doors.
And in that silence, I found my shape.
Not broken. Not bitter.
Just sharpened.
I am the frost that coats the edges of truth.
I do not flinch.
I do not beg.
I do not melt for comfort.
I am the one grain that stands apart.
I am the breath in the winter air that reminds you you’re alive.
I am the chill that wakes you from delusion.
I am the clarity that comes when the fire dies down and the lies stop burning.
You may fear me.
You may misjudge me.
But you will not erase me.
I am the frost.
And I endure.
I pressed my body
into gravel and oil,
the earth shuddered
like it knew my name.
Wind tore at my hair—
hot metal screamed above me,
the stink of burnt grease
and fear beside me.
Too late, I thought
of low-hung hoses,
of chains and things that could
pluck me straight out of the world.
I held my breath,
as if air alone might lift me
into the dreadful underside of things.
And the train— God, the train!—
roared on without mercy, gaining speed,
while I became smaller
than my own fear,
flatter than my pulse
beating against the gravel.
And in that grinding forever,
I wished I hadn’t been so brave,
hadn’t laid my young life down
for nothing more than a dare.
I wanted my mother.
I wanted out.
But all I could do
was keep still and pray
the sky would come back.
The train at last was gone
and I unscathed,
so I popped up like
jack-in-the-box
and scared the daylights
out of my friends,
laughing and triumphant
and unnerved
at what I’d done without thinking,
and wondered if I’d be more careful
next time.
And
We should not be here
in the first place:
in last place
in the worst space.
This Earth! The Disgrace!
But
should we be here
at the right time:
at due time
at the fine line.
This Life! The Great Race!
So
Save yourself: a piece
Of peace in one hand.
Still
Stick to what your gut
Would: want at one hand.
For
There is a proper place
for Everything:
A place to live,
And a place to die.
A place to love,
And a place to cry.
A place to borrow,
And a place to pay.
A place to day,
And a place to morrow.
A place to dance,
And a place to stand.
A place to fall,
And all and all is all the same!
A place to start,
And a place to step.
A place to stop,
And a place to stay.
A place to speak,
And a place to cease.
A place to be in
And a place to keep in.
A place to breathe,
And a place to beat.
A place to race
And place to place as all the same!
All
Is closer than you think.
Everything is there.
A proper place
for Everywhere.
Positive mindset satiates my hunger,
In dark clouds, it finds silver linings to see.
It carves out success, not as a warmonger,
And its bravery swirls like tides in the sea.
Walking its paths fuels daily ambition,
With it, no time again will my self-trust fade.
No setback can stir the winds of submission;
My will makes failure retreat, deep in dismay.
Struggles create success of long duration,
That spark is a flame that I hold to chest dear.
Lasting success will demand dedication,
I pray that God's favour will keep my path clear.
Their gatherings draw me, my footsteps align,
For there, their uplifting voices rend the air.
Their kindness and courage in harmony shine,
Building new bonds through the wisdom they all share.
The hope in their lives remains my guiding light,
Proof that all dreams can be within easy reach.
It isn’t just how long one groans through the night,
But how one learns from the lessons life can teach.
we rise
although gravity and time
may hold us in the cupping
of their hands
we rise in a plethora of dreams
escaping above the vents
of circumstance
we rise into the tent
of all embracing;
and as if, and but, and still
we rise into each contemplation
new as the reckoning
of togetherness
draws us to the breath
of our existence;
rising, always rising
to meet the air of every day
to stay through every
active play and to meet
what will become.
the beauty of this world so much,
that I must blink with astonishment
to hold back tears.
If I could not blink I fear,
sixty per cent of who I am,
would leave me, in abject eagerness,
to kiss the earth.
Being brave is
A character
Embed in love.
Bravery, a quality rare
the province of those who dare
say something most will object to
~ especially since it is true
The wind howls loudly,
And they parade proudly.
What is true?
How would I make something out of you?
Offer some resistance!
Take your stance!
Why would you increase your skill,
But to increase your will?
They won’t go with your flow,
So put on a fantastic show!
Priggish bravery
Is disguised as happiness
Life's dull savory.
On a busy Marescaux Road where
No one cared for an injured dog,
Where motorists do not come to a slow,
And honking horns hammer
As impatient traffic competes toe to toe,
There on the asphalted heat
The painful cry of a wounded creature
Pierced through the peak-hour hub of the street.
Out into the throbbing traffic
The Wolmarian girl stepped
Caring none except
for that injured dog– whimpering, pleading,
Fighting with its final breaths.
And the honking swelled and motorists yelled.
From their faces, I could discern
They were void of an iota of concern.
Above the chaos, I heard her whisper
Gentle reassurance to the timid creature.
The Wolmarian girl bent
and slowly lifted her casualty
And walked back to the sidewalk
With ceremonious dignity.
And I have always wished to be as brave as she
Who defied the odds to honour her humanity.
CHANGE
Change can be good or change can be bad
It can be the best experience you ever had
It can be in the way you think about it
Try something new and try not to doubt it
You could change your job or you could change your hair
Just go ahead and do what you dare
Change can be scary but you have to be brave
Change something small in the way you behave
Change can be as good as a holiday
Change can be as different as night and day
You can change your decision, you can change your mind
Just try to leave your cares behind
Go out there and do something bold, go out there and break the mould
Do something that you wouldn’t normally do
Try something completely new
Get off the lounge and just start slow
Where you might go nobody knows
At first you may feel trepidation
That could grow into inspiration
Change could turn into something good
Thoughts of could not might change into could.
In a home inside a farm,
There's a man who lives alone,
Shunned by everyone
For trying to stand for his own color once.
Thunders and lightnings,
Even the gods and the wind
Conspire to extinguish his flame everyday.
Lashes from every direction are thrown towards him
From armies of trolls and orcs.
Even the wind's own ears bleed from venomous songs
Sang against him with empty lyrics out of desperation.
And the mere fact that he's just alone makes him
As brave as the bravest man ever lived.
December 22, 2023, PST, APC
Speed. Like a blur of feathers across the asphalt.
Skimming, just inches higher than the busy road.
Formation. Not keeping any by choice default.
Sparrow. A bird born brave, a bird born to be bold.
With sun in my eyes, sparrow flies past my front wheels.
I swerve to the left as this wild one goes right.
The sound of my tires braking makes a loud squeal,
But rash, brave sparrow keeps flying, showing no fright.
In a tree is a nest of baby birds who parents tend to every demanding need.
The babies peep and peep when hungry, but are just helpless otherwise.
Home was made in an old tree with a nest within the crook of a branch.
But, one day a fire was burning their green forest. Soon, only the old tree
stood untouched but thick smoke was billowing all around. Most of the birds
had flown to safety already but the bird parents stayed trying to protect the
babies. Spreading wings over peeping head and tucking heads under wings,
for smoke was choking them. Soon, the tree refuge, shelter, and haven from
the storms was on fire. The birds knew the end was near for the family.
Until, God's hand reached down from heaven and lifted the nest of babies
and the terrified parents up from the flames, beyond the clouds and placed
the nest into one of Heaven's lush trees. He did this to reward the bravery
of the parents. The fire burned a path of destruction until the green forest oasis was gone from Earth ....
the birds sang sweet songs
fluttering about heaven ...
tweet tweet chirp peep peep
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