As An "Excuse:"
'Normal'--
I Found It Laying
Where "No Excuse
Is Enough..." Resides(?)
Not "Resident," Actually...
But A Crumb-Bum, A Scoff-Law...
You Know, "The Guest Who Just
Makes Himself At Home..."
Like Burrows In, Makes A Nest
Wherever He's At... There, That
SPOT. Room At The Inn...
Without The Excuse.
Because No Excuse Enough...
It's Not PRIDE! It Isn’t
Normal.
Just Out Of Curiosity,
Hmmm.
Hummingbird.
-Gray Squirrel
07-13-2026
the cat awakens
strolls out looking for action
picks a street fight
Let’s listen to songs in the language of play
From the Harts of our inner children
As Miranda’s dear reader chums.
The joy is in colouring in a crocodile,
Not whether you make a crocodile
Look like an accurate crocodile.
When you’re blue, colour a crocodile
Blue, too.
Twit twoo if you want to.
Who says you have to colour in a crocodile?
What about stamping little Harts onto the picture
Or picking stamp letters of your favourite words,
Spelling them haueva u onet oo.
Crocodile doesn’t seem like a word anymore -
I’ve been writing it so much.
Henrietta was precocious and a little naughty.
She loved adventure and sadly died too soon.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
Henrietta was way too curious about the afterlife.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
A poetry contest! With multiple prompts
Now here’s our big chance to shine
What new delights will our poets write?
I wonder, will they outrank mine?
Themes include: letters, fast food,
coming home, shelter, sleepless nights
crumbling, curiosity, power outages too
So much potential! So much we could write!
I’m filled with -curiosity-
about what splendid new poems this’ll birth
I’ll submit mine, with a wink and a rhyme
and a cheeky hope it might come first
Why do you cry at small stuff?
How can you do this common thing so rough?
Stay silent everything is not to be told,
You just learn to stay bold.
Isn't it unfair that we have to pretend to be normal?
It's not always that we have to look formal.
Sometimes we have to show the side that is hidden,
Is keeping everything in heart somewhere written.
It's okay to burst out into tears ,
Don't ever feel the pressure by your peers.
It's okay to mistakenly sometimes do wrong task,
It shows your courage to properly ask.
Then why do we ask everybody to be normal and pretend to be glad?
Showing sadness is not at all bad,
It's a common attribute for a human that is earned,
Being NORMAL is a lie that we have always learnt.
Open the door~
the one with the paint worn thin
where countless questions leaned their weight.
The hinges murmur like old storytellers
finally ready to speak.
A sliver of light slips out first,
gold as a whispered dare,
dust swirling like tiny prophets
dancing in the threshold’s breath.
Curiosity tugs on your sleeve~
gently insistent and impossible to ignore.
Open the door wider.
See how the shadows rearrange themselves,
how the air tastes of rain-kissed metal
and something unnamed but waiting.
A dove's feather drifts across the floorboards,
as if a winged thought escaped
just moments before you arrived.
Go ahead. Step through~
for the world beyond is stitched
with possibilities and almost-seen wonders,
a place where every question
is a lantern you carry in your heart.
Upon the threshold of the mind I stand;
grasping a latch of cold and rusted steel.
To seek the wonders of a hidden land;
Beyond the reach of reason’s stern reveal.
The golden key is but a restless thought;
A hunger for the truths we yet deny.
Through dusty halls, the ancient spark is sought;
To light the shadows where the secrets lie.
Then swing the portal wide on hinges bold;
Let strange and sapphire vistas greet the sight.
For when the spirit’s map begins to fold;
This narrow path shall lead to endless light.
Stay not within the cage of what is known;
For through this door, the seeds of stars are sown.
So this is what it feels like to be loved—
to love someone truly.
I long for thee.
Filled with quiet ecstasy,
I wonder what the days ahead hold for us…
I miss thy scent—
that quiet fragrance
that belongs only to thee.
© Rahim Moon 2026
one long haired cat
sitting by open fridge door
taking inventory
The first time I saw you, I couldn’t help but stare
Would someone like you notice my dramatic flair?
Each of my dreams I see you within my vision
Could it perhaps be a sign? Should I make a decision?
Around the room, you have my attention.
I notice you in the background, it’s my intention
I have an urge to approach, but I don’t know what to do
But sometimes, you have to let fate decide for you.
Your soft smile, my heart starts to beat
I’d smile back, and keep the moment on repeat.
I imagine gentle music through those white earphones
Something mystical, steady and something unknown
I can picture you with flowers surrounding
Sitting down on the ground, looking astounding.
From roots to sprouts my love starts to grow
It blooms from beneath, waiting to show
A garden that’s sacred, I hope you’ll know
I could watch and I can learn
I really can’t wait.. to see you perform.
Curiosity
The bane of the cat
Claws
At the edges of a fact
Mindfully
Follows a light on the wall
Purrs
In a rumbling need
Silently stalks
Insane inanity
Will the train emerge
From the tunnel
……..Again
Wandering the world
in far-flung foreign lands
I found myself
in the capable hands
of total strangers
whose innate curiosity
was matched only
by overt generosity
poor tho' they were
yet never complaining
their politeness and hospitality
was life-sustaining
one can only hope
should they call my name
I am able to repay the favour
and gratefully provide the same
How curiously this love does still stream
In this grand museum of endless dreams
If language limitless with countless graphemes
There's no vocabulary that I can deem
Rich enough to express or so it seems
The infinitude of loving beseems
I collect your miracles so supreme
Still a curiosity remains a theme
Of God's love, your love passed seriatim
The tiny shop was nestled in the historic Strand Arcade
and on every shelf, a treasured item was carefully laid.
On a gramophone, a seventy eight record was played.
Such a grand, delightfully soothing ambiance it made.
Curiosity drew me to examine everything displayed,
through piles of old clothes I could painstakingly wade.
There were wonderful period dresses of dainty brocade,
Gentleman's coats so well made of waterproof suede.
The softness of a Dior silk scarf with the edges frayed.
To be found, fine jewellery with precious gems inlaid.
There was a pendant and earings all fashioned in jade,
with a necklace that ornately allowed pearls to cascade.
Seeing the Aladdin's lamp, my joy was outweighed.
Presented in a velvet lined box, definitely first grade.
I was curious as to how much that needed to be paid.
Approached the owner, the price, hoping to persuade.
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