The truth, the passion, and the Poet
Ridin' high, the truth is told, passions and poet collide,
Igniting the shadows with fire and light!
My heart is open, free to decide,
I break to the open and soar with the bold!
Passions collide with the woman I know,
The fire is rising, I let it ride,
No longer walking with stories untold!
I've crossed the wild and rocky range!
The fire is lit and I let it glow!
My heart is free and it feels so strange,
Untied from the stories of my former age!
Passions collide as the high winds blow!
Feeling the heat as my fires rage!
On top of the world I fly,
With every heartbeat I feel the pride,
Kissing the past a sweet goodbye,
The truth, the passion, the poet and I!
— Debra
her eyes on the moon
or a twirled moustache
upside-down questions
never before asked
violins play a solo
alongside quiet pain
that is spoken of only
within poetic refrain
thought bubbles bounce
collide with stars
a self never spoke of
disguised in rhyming memoirs
mazes and teeth in riddles unravelled
as the subconscious mind
becomes more well-travelled
layers of thought
covered with layers of feeling
all brought into the light
with a little free-wheeling
though dots may join up
there is no conclusion
for a poetess is always
part fantasy
part illusion
venn diagram discoveries
made without knowing
sharing of ideas
with the seeds they are sowing
exiting time when feeling off-kilter
to observe all askew -
a true angle tilter
we scribble in darkness
scribble in light
scribble for solace
and for our life
The reason for a dry season is to mature in your faith
Calling something out of nothing propels
The essence of a dry season
There is a reason for a season so
Let God through Jesus Christ
Call something out of nothing
Dry seasons do not cancel destiny
Believing the Word of God helps you
Overcome the misery
Be anxious for nothing because there is always
A way to achieve the impossible
Grace, Courage, and Strength remain by your side
As we collide with the circumstances of life
We Know that darkness will
Spark a level of resistance!
We must use it to our advantage
Let the storms not make us monsters
We take the pressure and
See what treasure it offers us
We keep our eyes on the prize and
Know that in difficulty we can still rise
Therefore, Grace, Courage, and Strength flow through us
In the finished work of Jesus, we trust
Dry seasons do not cancel destiny
Believing the Word of God helps you
Overcome the misery
Mark Frank
Copyright 2026
One man feels inferior
The other man makes mistakes and becomes superior
Faltering does not halt your purpose
It exposes your path to greatness
Brokenness will enter your heart
Going through it will enhance your path
One man feels inferior
The other man makes mistakes and becomes superior
The interior of your heart will change and
Arrange your thoughts for good or bad
Both are by your side
You will collide with the substance of error
Exposing the terror of giving up
One man feels inferior
The other man makes mistakes and becomes superior
So never give up!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2026
Rays of a warring star where the eclipse
Trying for his dune by the sands of the lighter eye
Kaleidoscope into which the opus
Right into night the stallions of colossal strike
And among the night lovers
Between the prismatic mare
A small trace to come to render
The array of less than fonder tears
For the belly of the sun is most in leisure
Where the velvet cast upturns the rain
Utmost to the lifting homage
The barring of the telling tie
Very close as comfort would hurry garnets in the snow
A feline so mystique where dreams collide with night
So nature along all boughs of love
For smitten in the shadows of the day
Be anxious for nothing because there is always
A way to achieve the impossible
Grace, Courage, and Strength remain by your side
As we collide with the circumstances of life
Know that darkness will
Spark a level of resistance!
We must use it to our advantage
Let the storms not make us monsters
We take the pressure and
See what treasure it offers us
We keep our eyes on the prize and
Know that in difficulty we can still rise
Because Grace, Courage, and Strength remain by your side
Our circumstances can make us wise
We have a level of Grace attached to us
So we can walk in the beauty of our strength
Therefore, Grace, Courage, and Strength flow through us
In the finished work of Jesus, we trust
We know that God the Father gives strength to the Weary
And increases the power of the weak
Bless His Holy Name
Mark Frank
Copyright 2026
They dance with fools in endless loops
Then flinch when theirs collide with ours
And from a distance no one sees
Who wears the crown and who the scars
no superman comes
only innocent lives fade
under the open sky
beneath the roar of explosions in the high.
a generation is lost
in the depths of night,
where the echoes of Azaan
collide with the cries
of those who held their dead too tight.
power triumphs
humanity weeps.
the eyes of the bloodthirsty rulers
red with madness
bathing in the blood
of our fallen brothers.
look at us
today our hands are viciously red
we smirk
shamelessly stepping over the bodies of the dead.
In the end,
we’ll ask, “Who killed who?”
But we’ll forget.
we always do.
There is paint painted on him
It is a kind of paint whose pigment can dust
And cause a different kind of stain on you
If and when;
You glide on him,
You lean on him,
And collide with him.
He keeps himself away because of that difference
So as to avoid such kind of confusion
"You treasure what's yours but again confuse it"
Eager to prove him wrong but will you believe him?
Give ears to listen to the different kind of story!
The story that makes his paint that way.
Will you distinguish and help him see
If there's that he doesn't see that he should
Yet you shouldn't always expect that
"There must be something you see that he does not"
The truth is You never know whether he looked further
Further than your eyes made there sight
"We are the same" but, "just made different"
Though even so
How much can you make up from those two statements
"We are the same" but, "just made different"
Or is it that he is the foolish one and,
Doesn't deserve to sit amongst you
Just because he has a different opinion.
In the shadowed corners of my thoughts,
In a whisper,
not heard,
l i n g e r s— unseen by the eye but
felt.
A tremor under my skin,
a pulse of doubt's steady march,
where questions collide with silence,
I own rooms in these echo chambers
which contain scattered dreams
Sometimes
in what seems like
perpetual night.
Being a lover and a poet
That's as melancholy as we know it
Me, myself and I
Collide with you, yourself and mày
There is music in the silence, in the rest of unheard notes. That is where I hold my breath. Where the universe spins out its code for me to read. I watch as the unfallen sky reveals her mystery. Language unfolds in choreography, dancing between each blink of intention.
But I have questions
If time is not real, then what are we?
Poison and the cure, she screams at crashing volumes. No one sees.
I lay in the soporific sequel, turning over in the concavity of restlessness. Trials of the past collide with warm static forming variations of need. They are all tied to strings. She strums them with shades of night. The unfallen sky weeps. No one is listening.
Stress cannibalizes stones hungry for frailty but each is weighted in expectation. High caloric bites of the unknown. Bitter tones of perceived reality. The answer is in everything we devour. In the stillness of cognition yet all we do is eat.
The mother feeds
The mother weeps
Begging for her witness
As they all sleep soundly in her suffering
Thinking, deciding, and cuddling all muddle flow.
I'm not a wiz; I solve, yet my riddles, I know
My thoughts and deeds, like an artists', are creative.
My reflecting and planning are liberative.
Should dews of hope be erased by beams of despair?
Should my compassion change as per seasonal air?
There are unconscious courses in my mind and soul.
Like webs that fuse each fleck and speck into a whole
Nightmares that slaughter peace within the inner shrine's core
Feeling that, like birds, above the skies of mind sore
Impulsive admiration of flimsy beauty
All this progress as though a soon-to-do duty
Love, happiness, forgiveness, compassion, and trust
Collide with loneliness, helplessness, and disgust
Self-awareness, like a breeze between tempests, struggles
Between beliefs and doubts, there are silent rubbles.
While sour dualities of good and bad exist
Isn't there, between each straight-seeming path, a twist?
Beyond the skyline, I watch an expanse
outside this earthly realm…
torches of balls glitter in seamless motion,
orange streaks rolling in random numbers,
circling ' round their territory
like crystal fibrils wheeling, darting,
perhaps prancing…
Yet in relays, heavenly bodies afar
do not collide with one another
each of them holding an alchemy where
millions are unnamed, undefined, unattained.
Pray tell, of what purpose do they rule
through a mystery, perceived by
human theories, not by an imprimatur
of a Source's universal law?
Prophets say it will take light years
to touch their faces and claim
residence within this galactic space
... but for now, mark it
as a restricted passageway.
As crashing waves collide with sand,
It’s pictured in the water's sway–
relentless, as a tide's demand
to wash the tracks of yesterday.
Yet, as it ebbs, new prints appear
in place of those erased by sea;
each step an echo, crisp and clear,
a silent, screaming memory.
Her eyes, like windows to the past,
as forceful as the ocean's surge–
to heal, then break me just as fast
when sky and sea begin to merge.
And she’ll not feel this déjà vu
or hear your echo in her voice;
but in her blood, she’ll carry you
and mirrors never have a choice.
The salty sea can sting so deep
when sprinkled on my wounded skin;
you walk beside her while you sleep
and reach me from the grave you're in.
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