In a corner of the world where dreams break in waves of silence,
And shadows dance on the edge of a heart too full,
In a sea of thoughts that pour like a river of unrest,
I stand and unravel into thousands of threads of longing and regret.
My soul, a canvas of stars that ignites and fades,
In a time that knows neither beginning nor end.
My eye sees the sky and the earth as a single breath,
While my heart pleads not to be misunderstood.
Sometimes the light within me splits like a rainbow,
But other times clouds gather, heavy, over my inner horizon.
I seek my balance on the thin line between joy and sorrow,
And in every moment I lose myself, find myself, disperse.
I am just a soul trying to find peace in the storm,
A person with flaws finely woven into the fabric of their existence.
And though I strive, sometimes I get lost in my own labyrinth,
Waiting to be understood, to be loved, to be forgiven.
In this world of shadows and lights that mix endlessly,
I cry to the heavens not to be misunderstood, to be accepted.
For deep within me, intentions are as pure as a mountain spring,
And my plea rises like an ancient song to the stars.
They closed the corner store some time ago
the ciggies by the two we now forgo
our lucky bags now a recollection
as is browsing in the comic section.
Mechanics' Social Club no longer stands
their topless barmaids, striving local bands
and Sunday morns' all-comers talent show
both pubs have closed, there's nowhere left to go.
They closed the corner store some time ago
finally called the time and stopped the show
The cafe, bank the chemist shop, all gone
the street is quiet, not much going on.
We'll have a Tesco store sometime, they say
we know they're sure to place it far away
you'll need an Uber car, too far to walk
We'll miss the bench where you could stop and talk.
They closed the corner store some time ago
Nail salons and vape stores, now come and go
barbers, bookies empty charity shops
you see the homeless sleep, you see no cops
once walking up and down the street in pairs
graffiti daubs, the windows smashed, who cares?
An out-of-towner builds an HMO
inside the corner store we used to know.
That small corner
of the garden has been
in the shade since May -
this morning the sun
has made it back
and lit the dark
with a single taper of light
as if giving winter notice
that spring is on its way.
In a forgotten corner of the world, where silences stretch like a carpet of mist,
My thoughts wander among the ruins of lives scattered by the wind,
Reminding me that wisdom and madness dance hand in hand,
Like two shadows merging under the pale light of an eternal sunset.
In the silence of an endless night, I contemplate the broken destinies,
A silent song of those who fell prey to their inner storms,
For only when ruin touches our own being do we truly understand,
For only then do we see clearly that the lost ones are our unknown brothers.
In the shadow of an existence unraveling like an old canvas,
I realize that the drunkards, the mad, the prisoners, and the dreamers are part of us,
People who wear invisible scars like medals of destiny,
They are as commonplace as a rainbow arching after a storm.
Memories intertwine like threads of silk in the wind of time,
And I understand that every ruined life is a story worth hearing,
For in their fragility, we find the reflection of our own searches,
And in the fragility of a shattered dream, we find the strength to be reborn.
I want to buy a wardrobe,
And in it I place my name
In the top left corner
Of its darkest spot.
I want to buy a wardrobe
And in it put a billion chambers,
To keep my name safe
From vultures aimed
To pounce tiger like
And tear it into pieces.
I want to hide my name,
From the sadistic and narcissistic
Individuals aimed to put a show
And from it their fame
Grows
Heart hurt to smithereens.
I want to hide my name,
In the many chambers
Of my wardrobe
Made of finest of steel
And many padlocks
To shield it from scavengers sharp claws
Stinking hold of its skin.
The name I want to hide,
Is bleeding with a fire
That does not burn
Busy on Kabale streets
Sweeping the floor clean
And babbling on all town walls
Of a native
That ashames the kin
And the nation at large
I want to hide my name.
I want to buy a wardrobe,
And in it I lay my name
In the top right corner
Of its brightest spot.
And only then,
Will My name be free...
hardship chiseled in his features
silence laden by a troubled past
his thoughts kept to himself
behind an invisible wall of insulation
while his face speaks to me in whispers
of a history muddled with shady details
eyes reveal that regrets he's had a few
and dreams now seem out of reach
yet there's a part of him that refuses to give up
AP: 3rd place 2025
There's a hint
of winter in the evening air
as the autumn days
dwindle down to a golden few
but I'm looking forward to
spring and all it will bring
when the whole wide world
is reborn anew
and then with summer
just around the corner
to see me through
I'm thinking of
early mornings with you
to meet the sun
and how a daydream or two
for now will do
to put these winter blues
on the run
Lurking
In the shadow
Of the corner
Of the room
In the dim
In the gloom
Lurking
Waiting
In the shadow
Of the corner
Of the room
In the dim
In the gloom
Waiting
Watching
In the shadow
Of the corner
Of the room
In the dim
In the gloom
Watching
Me.
The docile creature is shaken awake
Noticing the success of the carnivores
They are terrible in their growling, ripping, and tearing
Blood drips from their teeth
Why are the bullies winning?
The deer has choices
She can remain true to her disposition
Or turn into a wolf and become a night monster
She waits for instruction from the recesses of dark shadows
Shadows that want everyone to fear the night
God hides in the corner,
Watching,
Without interrupting
Tell me, would it be such a crime
to live in a world of rhyme?
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Mother: a wax crayon candle in a starless room
You have many layers, like an onion
And you're coloured, but not green
So a wax-crayon candle is favoured here.
Much more poetic.
Although I bathe in the dark
You sit in my corner
Flickering
flickering
like
this.
And you wish not intrude
In your offers of solace.
No.
You don't set my room on fire
You just light up my corner
With the gift of a place to be seen.
A place of security,
Whether I visit it or not.
AND YES, you are loved. YES, you are valued.
(so don't even doubt it)
And yes, your Crayola hues, your mix-n-match
May clash in the eyes of OTHERS
But parallel to even your Converse shoes:
They complement each other
And though I don't always visit this corner...
...Of candlelight in my room,
You should know you're not alone
With my candlelight, too.
I’m popping out now, for my walk
Just around the corner
Take in the sights and breathe the air
Say hello to my favourite bench
The contrast I feel upon my skin
Spring is just around the corner
The warmth is nice, but the chill still cuts
The pale cloudless sky, it holds no clues
I walk in the sun, I walk in the shade
I’m just around the corner
I welcome the warmth lovingly
And accept that the cold must be there too
What would it take, to welcome the chill?
The answer… is that just around the corner?
I ponder the thought, as I take my steps
On this pleasant March afternoon
I’m nearing home now, I’ve fed my soul
I ate local - just around the corner
I consider it all; the dark and the light…
The bright and the shade…
The chill and the warmth…
(My heart and my mind?)
And I know I walk in all of these worlds
Just around the corner
In a secret corner of the mind, where silence dances with shadows,
I lose myself in the simplicity of a moment that asks for nothing, just to be,
letting dreams unravel like autumn leaves in a gentle breeze,
without fear of absence, without the desire to arrive anywhere,
for in the absence of desire, a vast field of freedom is born,
where thoughts find rest in the peace of a diamond morning,
and love, like a river whispering its story among the stones of time,
intertwines with the simple, austere soul, yet full of a nameless richness.
Under the wide sky of abandonment, I rise without wings,
seeking not an end, but a beginning that reinvents itself endlessly,
listening as silence finds its echo in the song of invisible birds,
in a world where the compass points only to the heart of the eternal now,
and where love weaves its tapestry from the unseen threads of eternity.
On The Corner
Ye Olde Shoppe still stands on twelfth street
surviving despite the box stores.
The owners never miss a beat
always willing to hand out treats
to children who come through the doors.
A Black Church
Christianity search
A Preaching Pastor
A sermon ever after
Congregation praise
The spirit in its amaze
Amen here and there
Lifted praise involved, but was the Amen Corner sincere?
Amen would spread throughout the church building
The Pastor would often wonder
Is Heaven hearing yonder
Nonetheless, the Amen would be established
The sermon accomplished
Spiritual words heard
Feed my sheep is God’s purpose with a mission from the Pastor
Lifted voices ringing high to Heaven’s highest
Goodness comes out
It is often a praising shout
The Amen has it
Glory to the Father name that fits.
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