Written: May 25, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Sara Kendrick
1st place contest winner
*****************
A single ember soothes the night,
don't need blazes burning bright.
A mild, pristine, limpid stream,
whispers the facts we love and deem.
The smallest seed, in swale it grows,
teaches more than pomp bestows.
No golden crown, no fine array,
just a quiet grace to show the way.
The heart shall find a halcyon air,
cheerfulness is simple, if we share
Life’s wisdom croons in modest tune—
Prosaic, pure in its dulcet boon.
Sad eyes glow in grief
as Carmen McRae's croons, cut.
My Foolish Heart lifts.
Black art will never whisper
It comes with its own rhythm,
Feet tapping to the djembe,
Reminiscing of home.
It survives in the hands that bend color into opportunity,
In bantu knots of constellations
Marking where we have been and still left to go.
It croons on street corners
On canvasses, big and bold.
Every line spoken, every beat formed
Uplifts our coily hair towards the sun.
We honor the echoes
We hold the same truth
We are the sound.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Starlight spins on silver feet,
a pirouette of whispered beams.
Moon croons low, its rhythm sweet,
and time dissolves in liquid dreams.
A pirouette of whispered beams,
the night unfolds its velvet gown.
And time dissolves in liquid dreams—
the cosmos twirls, unbound.
The night unfolds its velvet gown.
Shadows dip in fleeting grace.
The cosmos twirls, unbound
Light and dark embrace in space.
Shadows dip in fleeting grace.
Moon croons low, its rhythm sweet.
Light and dark embrace in space.
Starlight spins on silver feet.
Written: January 24, 2026 for contest Sponsored by: Eve Roper
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Dark charm with wings light,
Sky-shades swirl in snug, lit nook.
Girls cheer for smooth flight,
Butterfly dreams in tale brooks.
Golden croons through starlit books.
In Catsville,
delighfully fragrant,
a musky moggy croons.
Reverb resounds
as lyrics drift
"Sugar and spice
"and all things mice!"
The Siamese star harmonises
with vociferous vocals
"Gimme Gimme Gimme
a cat stick at midnight".
amid the tender purring
of a somnolent feline.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, look! The Wump wears polka-dot socks.
It tap-dances swirls on peppermint rocks!
Its belly jiggles like jelly on spoons,
While whistling loony, balloon-tune croons.
One foot hops east, the other foot west,
It juggles twelve pies (but drops all the rest).
The townsfolk giggle, the lampposts sway,
As the Wump cartwheels over the Milky Way.
With a flibbertigibbet and zoodle-zoo,
It winks—then gets stuck on sparkly glittery superglue!
A man-lion, striving at his best,
Begets home a lot of fortune.
Fate giveth on its own behest,
A coward croons pretty soon.
I’ll fight the fate and do my best
To make some odd things opportune,
Even then should I not succeed,
Who can fault me indeed?
__________________________
Translation |28.09.2025| fate, fight, fortune
Note: Ottava Rima (AB/AB/AB/CC), based on a Sanskrit Subhaashhitam transliterated as under:
Udyoginam purusha-simham upaiti lakshmi,
Daivena deyam iti kaapurushaa vadanti ||
Daivam nihatya kuru paurisham aatma-shaktyaa,
Bale krte yadi na sidhyati kah atra doshah ||
A quarter rest breathed into my consciousness, a playful pretense of a warm hand gently placed above my heart, calming my sedulous spirit.
—by the Poet
When Paris Was All The Rage
Slow sound of the sax; I lay back
and listen to good-old-day lyrics,
when Paris was all the rage,
and the time of love has past
for the old maid sipping wine
on a sidewalk café; staring,
are we, into the eyes of a painting
rainy and colorful; romanticized
by the simmering sound of the sax;
its notes buoyant on the Seine.
Raindrops of gray, blue and cherry
blossom; a scant smile on red lips,
reminiscing the fading beau and hours;
clicking heels and handsome dress.
Sedate and cocksure lyrics and vocables
regulate my heart, warm my pulse points.
A voice croons, as the ‘phonist’s fingers gyrate,
tingling all the senses; cabernet dimmer switch.
Written: July 28, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
**************
Salted lips confect rust melt,
In my mouth hangs mango smoke.
Bread with oil seeps bitter gloom,
citrus spews on copper tongues.
Vanilla beats in the haze,
ash stays like razed molasses.
The lamp spills sweets on your chin,
my thirst croons of gold and grit.
Written: July 17, 2025, for contest by Joseph May
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Silk voice ties the tunes of the throng
As you play the chill, snake-hands song
Void doesn't just loom—he swoons and croons
Of the throng, silk voice ties the tunes
My sound won't cross—cling to your room
He swoons and croons—void doesn't just loom
Won't quench the charm and delight dross
Cling to your room—my sound won't cross
I'll break the chain with skillful smarm
And delight dross won't quench the charm
Haunts the twilight with spry disdain
With skillful smarm, I'll break the chain
Even my heart can't sate your height
With spry disdain, haunts the twilight
When the coming spite pours a chart
Can't sate your height, even my heart
Ripples’ softened pitch
rises as ducks glide around,
Turtles' bubbled chants resound
till frogs’ croons abound;
Insects’ buzz and splashing fish
lead Polyphonic Choired Pond
Nightbird croons at me again, again
beneath a sheet of clouds,
like cozy pillow to my moon
to tuck my ruffled mind away...
Through drizzle's fading glint and flow
I muse about my man's upstate ride
quite distant , quite stretched the miies
as evening floats in decibels of gust,
rivering in tuneful pitter-patter of ticks.
~°~
Winds brush gently... outside my sill,
that between teapot and lamp’s flicker
slow gush of trickling dew rolls away---
The phone rings in a hush-a-bye,
chiming low, his voice drones to sigh
like tangy breeze on moistened flight
telling me ...my face outshines
all nightstar beaming,
that he called to simply say
he loved me more fearless in the rain.
First Place
La vie en rose - Seeing life through rose colored glasses
La-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la
—My Cherie Amour, refrain, sung by Stevie Wonder
A song in my heart; we’ve all been blind to love,
until it appears. Love at first sight, sound, touch, scent
or taste. The masquerade is over; a song in my heart.
—quote by poet
My Cherie Amour
Smooth la-la’s embrace a mysterious love,
One that must find its way in the dark café
Or in a silver cloud, or crowded rue de Bac.
The heart beats for that perfect stranger
Scented with Estée Lauder’s Azurée
Or a Parisian accent - sexy and decadent.
The wonder of a smile, appealing to her,
His eyes hidden behind shades; blinded
By an elusive love, a petite cherie amour.
Intangible, unattainable, a Summer flower,
The warmth of a bodice, yet seen. Galaxy,
his, but so far out of his range, silky cream.
Smooth la-la’s embrace a mysterious love.
Stevie croons ‘he’s confident,’ blinders off.
Someday wishes will emerge, ‘la vie en rose.’
All throughout the night
the skies are dark and cold.
The stars, fitful, sparkle bright
for dreamers to behold.
Silent nights are never heard.
Wolves sing to the lonely moon.
Crickets chirp, and the only bird
is the owl that softly croons.
Let us watch stars at nightfall
as they all slowly appear.
From here they seem so small,
they shine so bright and clear.
I'll sing of stars all night long,
until the twilight hour's past.
The waning moon joins my song,
thin, wavering shadows it casts.
The edges of the horizon glow
with a gentle shade of pink.
Soon to light the earth below,
the sun is rising above the brink.
I must wait another day
to see the stars once more.
I must find another way
to leave this ground and soar.
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