Am I right? I think all kisses are silent, both lips are so closed up.
The orchard stands, but I don’t pick.
The gate is open. That is all.
The birds can take what fruit they wish—
I’ve left no shadow on the wall.
The weather turns, as weather must.
The grain was read. The blade was still.
I marked the signs with neither trust
nor question of the wind’s goodwill.
A thread unspooled beneath the wheat.
No one looked. I did not pull.
The song remained beneath the beat—
and none could see the thread was full.
There is no bell. There is no toll.
No ending wrapped in woven rhyme.
But quietly, the system knows:
the field is mine, and not in time.
.
whilst 'pon her
toez
balance'n her pretty
latch'd unto my
lapels
simper'n
she whisper'd
"kiss me"
eyes closed
child conjuring
her unicorn
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
A guilty man's bride was sadly taken.
Heaven's gate was closed - no prayer could save.
Grief-stricken, this poor man, godforsaken,
saw a grim vision of his future grave.
A sad, ghostly figure did awaken,
groaning, "your soul will always be the slave
of memories when your heart was shaken".
Fate's words would on his heart and tomb, engrave.
This gossamer ghost sank beneath a stone,
damned to a dark eternity alone.
The gate creaked, moaning and groaning to shut,
Sealing up, quelling, the bickering blame-game glut.
No you can’t sneak around, and jump the fence,
With grave looting cries of grief-stricken offense!
That won’t work anymore! So don’t strut up on-bail,
Clad in your ghostly godforsaken gossamer veil,
Claiming it was not your fault, 'cos you told no lie!
For snake-eyes have tears that very quickly dry!
The gist was far to hollow, for back-sliding disdain,
So go! The gate’s locked - you won’t get in again.
L-eaves
A-lways
I-ntrigue
L-onging
E-yes,
N-aturally
E-mploying
M-ysterious
E-arth's
J-oyfulness
I-n
C-harming
A-bode
©bfa060325
Monocrostic (Birthday of Lailene O. Mejica)
I’ve found that it’s not so inconvenient
To live with eyes closed from time to time
Towards my troubles I'm becoming lenient
In the appalling news I cannot change a line
So it does seem to me counterproductive
If I’d worry if we're cheaply bought and sold
If I sought a remark that eases the distructive
Troubles they send to share with the world
There’s only one thing I keep wondering about
My darling waits for me out in the summer breeze
Since she has gone my days I have to count
I worry whether she will recognize it's me..
Black eyes smile down, a frown
The voices in my head of silent sound
Live weird connected without ground
Look around at all the nothing I've found
Eyes tired unfocused and uninspired
Teeth pulling pliers torture tools for hire
Liars, so many liars, flash flooded fires
The leper that was so very admired
Eyes closed, on the back of eyelids now froze
The red rose of death fills my nose
The list grows all enemies and foes
Ten fingers, two hand, unaccountable toes
I guess this is just how it goes... it goes...
Hands twitch
remembering the sensations
of the fingering flesh.
Side by side we sleep
between ghost worlds.
Feather whisps
of body awareness
anchors us
to one deeply breathing bed.
In that place,
skin secretes thought and sight,
we dream each other's dreams.
Are we more in love
there
in that nether land
then when fully awake,
when our tongues are
loose and sly?
The child grew up, then one day he flew away,
memory of siblings totally erased
and so it does reman till this very day,
of his indifference remaining unfazed,
ignoring parents on whose lap he did play.
Methinks in meadows of love he has not grazed,
so he is a cripple, living in the dark,
yet to sense the light, on soul’s ascending arc.
From here, behind the closed curtains
I can’t see the world outside
I lay in my bed, uncertained
If there’s a reason to find
Why should I get up and get down
Go shopping, get on the same track
Why cannot I hear that sound
The sound of your voice that pulls back
This curtain, and then I would see
The most loving smile on your face
A bit of a garden, and your apple tree
Everything on the same place
Prolong me this kind of illusion
I’d like me to stay in the past
Behind the closed curtains seclusion
I’m breathing the smell of a dust..
bruised and punctured
deflated and tattered
given warmth and a smile
in time this heart may mend
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on March 1, 2025 for contest A MARCH 2025 POSTED sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - Honorable Mention
utter no words you’re not prepared to have written as your epitaph
Wrap me in your silk like a dream, a moment worth keeping beneath closed eyes,
Perhaps I'll be wounded or thawed by the warmth that tenderly seeps within,
The frenzy of the shawl’s thread weaves my thoughts, like a circle of fate,
For warmth or for death—a choice binding my soul to freedom's gate.
I must capture the triumph of warmth, a crown of shawl that holds me tight,
Better to be a beacon of light, beyond the flight of life that soars high,
But shall I not be absent when the call is heard, or will you fade into twilight?
Will I find you in the late dusks, a shadow of night’s devotion bright?
Perhaps a void of love in the night, an abyss that knows no bounds,
I will never cease to watch and pause, frozen by the mysteries profound,
Always remaining with its breeze, a thrill that never fades away,
Between life’s shadows and the flickering light in the distance, ever astray.
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