A firm ground and a distilled lake separate two rulers.
One, an explosive demonstration of color.
The other, a quiet expression of luxury.
The Sunflower, vibrant, high on life.
Amidst the tall patches of grass and unruly rodents,
a bed of amber glows dominates the wastelands.
The Lotus, elegant, tales of traditions.
Shallow walls, empty palace halls.
Anchored, confined to mud covered ideals.
Forced to reap the benefits of those who sowed.
Unbeknownst to them, a presence reveals itself.
Slowly infiltrating both defenses, a calculated strike.
It survived its injuries, now it must break even.
Deep within the chokehold of roots,
forces ravaging a wasteland,
releasing toxins under water.
Erosion, spreading this contamination.
How unfortunate,
you are attempting to deceive us.
Remember, the first and only reality of the kingdoms.
There can only be two,
And you, are a part of neither.
You have become,
a rival.
Left, right, forward, back.
An endless cycle, lost in time.
Wondering what’s wrong,
asking what’s wrong.
When glass breaks, it doesn’t break even.
Shards of time, emotions, and hope are scattered.
They broke the glass,
this stagnant soul is left with the mess.
With a withering broom and dirty dust pan in hand,
all that was salvaged ended with mourning.
But when the pieces were collected out of the trench of rage,
a new foundation was created.
This light emerging from the abyss below,
beautiful as the death of a star.
Melting the glass, cursing all who dare damage true art.
Screeching with light that burns the sky.
A broken sword can be fixed,
there will be a new Excalibur.
A soul for a soul, a heart for a heart.
Lasting forever, in a land apart.
Beneath the dusk-lit sky, the Karthigai flower trembles,
its petals catching firelight like whispered courage—
born from the quiet earth yet rising, rising,
as though it remembers every ancestor
who refused to break, even when the wind screamed.
There is a strength in its softness, a fierce kind of bloom,
the kind that grows after storms have torn the world open.
It stands alone but never lonely,
carrying the weight of forgotten prayers,
burning with a tenderness too bright to hide.
And when night deepens, the flower does not close—
it keeps its vigil, glowing like an ember,
a promise made in silence, trembling yet unbroken,
as though it is waiting for something…
someone…
A flower that holds history and legacy,
Petals sing like a flowing melody.
Karthigai blooms fragrance in the air,
It's beauty, it's worth to stare.
A sacred flame, where it rises with gentle grace,
A reminder that shining light has place.
Karthigai, small yet grand,
You shine like stars upon the land.
From ancient lands of Tamil lore,
It's presence marks tradition's core.
Karthigai, ruby red and golden hue,
The dance of light in every view.
I met a girl,
She's a beauty,
Looking expensive in looks,
Bet she's incredibly rich,
Then she dances through the crowd,
Swaying slowly,
Stripping off, showing off,
Leaving on a pair of heels,
I see where it started,
with the abuse and torment,
the trauma and her pain,
It all started there,
Now see how she sways,
How she give herself away,
To break even to pieces,
Oh how worthless!,
She's way beyond saving,
No man can ever will,
In depth of the hollow,
She will always be there,
dnmd????
Dear America,
We're doing fine without you up here.
We're relaxing, drinking our superior beer.
We're vacationing in our beautiful backyard.
Life without you really isn't that hard.
We're following the latest international trends
by looking elsewhere to make new friends.
Our economy's outpacing the entire G7
and our trade surplus is way ahead of break-even.
So, feel free to inform your president moron,
there's no hard feelings - we've just moved on.
Sincerely,
Canada
Some days are good
some days are bad
some may be OK
while the rest could be
the very best you ever had
tho' there are those
who go
with what they know
always stay the same
consistency may be the key
but I prefer to up my game
some hands you win
some hands you lose
sometimes you break even
then there's when you have to pay your dues
but when the peculiar becomes the familiar
on the slow road to nowhere
the trick is knowing when to call
rearrange the chips
see where they all fall
it's time to make a change
The things I paid for…
Like the feeling of swinging on my swingset.
It only cost a dandelion.
With seeds so harmless.
I was in high school.
I could have been happy.
If I played baseball, I would run from base to base.
But I prefer home.
I could have finished that essay.
But they say Wednesdays are a time for rest.
I still managed to graduate high school.
These days, I don't think I’d be able to tell you how.
I remember driving for the first time.
The tank was full.
Art class would have been 200 dollars.
If I had taken them.
If someone offered to pay for my vacation?
I would say it was too late.
At 25, there’s nothing that will help depression.
I’ll sit on the couch, trying to break even.
I think that kid in third grade still owes me five dollars.
I get mad about those things sometimes.
The things I paid for.
Mean nothing.
#3: Tis Twilight Time
Goal hour is here ... the spirit joins the soul,
ephemeral or twilight ... or two worlds,
dreams; exchange facts for fiction ... a black hole,
furtherance, lying on a bed of pearls.
The Ancient Mariner, sailed all seven,
--but know that all of creation matters,
Jules Verne starts your voyage, you'll break even,
the journey will seem endless ... but crackers!
The choices lay at your feet, just explore,
"Around...," "Center...," "Under...," "Mysterious...,"
most productive voyager--go ashore.
This would be the trice of time, serious,
for the twinkling has arrived, tis Twilight,
Time, inspired, now expired, on-site, sit tight.
Across the bridge, unto the clear path
silence waits as time takes a slow count
with her void beckoning loudly and
whispering to the lurking shadows
When will it all end?
As all spun lightly for a short stop
Toils and Sweats are lost before Dawn
gracefully dancing to the blowing breeze
over meadow at Dusk
Is Eternity a break Even?
or a new chapter of a new beginning
or is it just a Shadow of the Previous One
Trailing behind the traveling One
Beyond the bridge ,through and through
An answer lies covered in mystery
Will eternity be a beginning of a new End
Or an End to all we've ever known?
I swear you’re haunting me even in death, I can feel your breath, breathing down my neck, I can’t catch a break even for a sec, you’re under my skin like some sort of insect, your hatred pours out in some of my sentences, so I’m asking what my sentence is, am I doomed to a hellish existence? What are my chances, of stepping out of your shadow and making real advancements, when every corner I turn I find another one of your abandonments, I just want to start again, get out of the pen, that you turned into a cage, I realized the bars existed at a young age, you never wanted me to escape, didn’t expect me to end up being brave, but I broke your mold, happiness isn’t bought or sold, it’s created through experiences both had and told, but lies only turn a young hopeful soul, into something bitter and old.
For what is a man that he do not live
His journey be only vain,unreal
Struggle out deepest woods his steps
Journey through time never ending
Walk wisely chosen,his steps unfold
Wages of Life,we pay its sacrifice
One must believe even in darkness
Fear isn't what's there but what isn't
To conquer is to achieve initiative
Demons of your soul, your making
Your killing,your bleeding
Wages of Life break even the strongest
Even in dark we take a breathe
Even our last breath we take stand
The struggle real, smoke laid cloud
We give it all even if we fall
The price we've paid to live
Wages of Life a wolf on its own
A devouring able to conquer
Without you, I am not who I am
Am I selfish for wanting you to sing again?
I see the turmoil in your soul
We've fought back the monsters before
The last time, you carried me
On your shield
Until I could walk, until I was healed.
When you're struggling in a sea of darkness
And have lost sight of the shore
When you slip beneath the waves
I'll swim you to the surface
Allow me to return your light.
Even if you falter,
Even if you break, even if you hate
Me, I will not abandon you.
Look at me, don't let your eyes fall
We'll make it if we have to crawl.
it won't take long at all.
it won't take long for u to see that you have hands to feel but then you made it and issue when you drop something but something you can still pick.
some can't even bend down.
they want to dive to the sky but they need enough words to do that.
it won't take long for u to see we are losing it, when we have hands to hold each other but you push away with it.
while some are dying to hug.
it won't take long my love for you to see am handsome enough to stay alive.
some have died and they not coming back.
I loved Michael Jackson but it don't take long for me to realise that he his not coming back, I had to move on.
stop playing break even with me, don't be cold and worm.
some have little time even to spend saying sorry.
it won't take long for you to realise that I could be kissing you with that lips not cursing you.
let me hug you when I can.
let me say sorry when it not late.
don't let waste our youth on lustful thinking.
God is fair love.
we just play games past our time before we even realise.
Gardens – After Dark
Buddha sits stoically observing his garden.
The Gnomes snore as the Fairies toss and turn
asleep on the soft petals of flowers. The impish
Pixies party with the flashy fireflies.
Nocturnal seekers. Mice, forever paranoid,
scurry to and fro in a break even carbohydrate burn.
The raccoons, mask-wearing felons, are more direct.
They have already “cased the joint” and are sure of their objective.
Le Skunk, “but of course”, Pepe LePew, he fears no one,
boldly waves his white stripe, slowly peruses the menu.
Monsieur Owl, something of a Maitre d’, oversees the
dining arrangements - while planning his own.
The first hint of sunshine will trigger “last call,
dew will form on the flower petals awakening the Fairies.
Fireflies will drop the pixies at their three story walk-ups.
Gnomes will snort, stretch, and scratch themselves.
A gentle breeze will cue the wind chime.
The Buddha yawns, the birds sing morning prayers.
6/20/2016
submitted to – Little People – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Shadow Hamilton
her velvet mind
swallowed me whole
in one bite
noble i tried to encompass her fairest face
in words sweetly written
but knowledge awaits the little engine that could
chug chug chug up the hill pushing his boulder of wheat
till just as he reaches the top he tumbles back down again
so he must repeat till dooms day
so he must repeat till he learns the golden rule
there are no rules just fancy ways to cheat
just better circus clowns with speedy little lies
just bitter old men soaked in old wine
cursing with one fist feebly upraised at the ignorant sky
her velvet mind so smoothly takes away
more than was intended to give
but its an ignorant little engine that could
that tries to shortcut his break-even chances
that tries to cheat the cheaters
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