no color is as difficult to paint because sky blue is from God’s brush
yet we try to recreate it in faded blue jeans, paints and colored pencils.
We have nearly perfected her when we realize we did not even get close.
I laid in the grass today to watch sky blue wondering how to get her right.
She has a cloudy misty milky frothy quality I can neither describe or paint.
I took out other colors and mixed without the result I had been seeking.
Adding glitter glue helped give sky blue a little bit of her pop and fizzle.
I finally gave up realizing that God has His own unique brush and colors.
dog stricken
with cancer;
euthanized.
out of her
m i s e r y;
dog owner
hollowed out
by deep grief;
best friend, gone!
Whew ~ I'm all tuckered out
from doing my day-to-day spellcasting business,
conjuring this and conjuring that,
bewitching this and bewitching that,
I hate to say it but I'm not
the young enchantress I used to be.
It's time for a break and have some brew ~
what I need next is to summon my charming warlock
to make me feel those long gone days of youth again.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Abraham born before Jesus
They were born holding selfie.
They booked flight from the womb
Are the children of this generation.
They speak louder without sense
Yet wiser than Solomon himself
They sees beyond their parents
With food remnants on their mouth.
Right in the womb they ate wheat
Before they were born they saw you
What is it you know I don't know
Says a child from this generation.
Grannies yet sucking breast
A tree challenging forest
Difficult in accepting corrections
Are the children of this generation.
Eat your dough and bake the pan
Drink your eggs and fry the shells
Says a child who learnt nothing
Yet she knows better than granny of old generation.
Know that tomorrow the sun
will be back again to warm everyone.
And at night, the moon
will again make the oceans croon,
and the stars will again twinkle
and their beauty will stun.
Alas, not all things in life are easy; Even man struggles to be human.
-Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib
In shadows womb, where hopes may fade,
The road is coarse, the nights are long.
Yet through the hearings, hearts are made,
In shadows womb, where hopes may fade.
Each tear a touch, each fear a blade,
But still we rise, we’re still grown strong.
In shadows womb, where hopes may fade,
The road is coarse, the nights are long.
Esau, a fierce hunter; Jacob a Torah scholar
Isaac had to make a difficult decision
To blend Abraham’s kindness with
Jacob the scholar or with Esau’s strength…
Elderly Isaac's tears blinded him at length
For he’d made an egregious mistake
Choosing brute force over scholarship
His frail body began to shake… *
__________________________________
*See Genesis 27:33
2 weeks x 2
future. that’s what I put in notes
to remind myself how often
I’ll be able to see her and pretend
I’m easy to find, same
as when we were kids trading rooms
on a regular basis,
once fear’s been eclipsed by new
and parallel taxation habits,
once we’ve forgotten how it wasn’t
as easy as writing a poem.
when I was ten
one of my annoying habits was to finish all oral sentences
with “you know”
saw a robin today, you know
ate spaghetti for lunch, you know
planted marigolds around the foundation, you know
It became annoying to everyone
including me
I recognized I was saying it
tried to quit
yet finished every sentence with "you know"
for about two years after I recognized how annoying it was
My grandson is ten
he starts every sentence with “actually”
actually, that is the seventh planet
actually, I have a great idea
actually, I know something about that.
He knows something about everything; he is ten.
I figure he will be stuck with”actually” for about two years.
The place I feel the most at ease,
Is at the moment of time's freeze,
When the world stops its chores,
Feels like opening of heaven's doors.
The place I feel the most at ease,
Does not exist in this world's breeze.
It does exist in sleep,
As there is no time to weep.
The place I feel the most at ease,
With less people around me,
As little joy exists in a cocoon,
Or feeling the silence of the moon.
The place I feel the most at ease,
Would be an insect making its way in a paper's crease,
The insect too carving its way,
With no chances of running away.
The place I feel the most at ease,
Would not be in this life, please.
We're HARD. We're HUMAN. We're HARD.
Hard on ourselves, hard on each other.
Mirrored faces, reflecting
the same goddamn questions:
Who are you?
Who am I?
What's the point of this mess?
We chart the stars,
map the deep,
but can't find our damnway
out of this labyrinth of flesh and bone.
The self, a phantom,
a fleeting shadow
in the flickering candlelight of our minds.
We build walls of reason,
but stumble,
tripping over the invisible wires
of our own making.
Chaos!
Symphony of joy and pain,
a heart's erratic beat,
a soul's relentless rhythm,
the constant hum of being... human.
Don't look for answers in the books,
in the theories, the philosophies,
and the intellectual grandstanding.
The truth is right here,
pulsing in the messy,
complicated,
everyday life.
We ARE the mystery!
The key,
the universe,
the single soul,
the labyrinth,
the echo,
the shadow,
the heart,
the fire,
the question,
the answer...
...and we're just getting started.
Difficult roads twist and turn,
Like a river wandering through valleys,
Each bend is a challenge, each obstacle is a test.
But in the struggle, beauty awaits,
Hidden like a gem in the rough,
Patiently waiting to be found.
Through the darkness, there is light,
Through the storm, there is calm,
And through the pain, there is growth.
For every uphill battle leads to a peak,
Every tear shed waters the seed of hope,
And every scar tells a story of strength.
So, keep pressing on, weary traveler,
For beyond the hardships lies
A destination of unmatched beauty.
The cold invading army has entered through the mouth and nose
Medications are ready to stop this relentless attack, trying to be composed
The body must prepare for an intense battle as germs are seasoned veterans of war
Exploding coughs are just the beginning of what I have in store
Fluids must flow freely to flush out the enemy from where it hides
As the invaders set up camp in my ears and throat, my energy levels started to slide
I can feel the battle start to heat up as my temperature starts to rise
A relentless pounding in my head was certainly not a surprise
Sleepless nights from coughing are making it much more difficult to defeat the germs, but a barrage of drugs is weakening their attack
After days of battling them, they are finally defeated and start to retract
In a short time, I will once again feel like my old self
Time to pack up all my medications and put them back on the shelf
Difficult life
Life is life, hmm, yes, if we are still alive
This is a question only, a question, what is life
And what's for, and why? Freedom or jail?
Independence or freedom?
I don’t know
I don’t know
This guy is just a simple thinker
Nothing else
But then the question is stayed, and no answer
Still no answer
Empty the answer’s box
And the life gone
And no answer
I am dying like a silly boy
No, that’s so far, so far
Death isn’t upcoming, my future is a flyer
Just fly
Hmm, so the life flyes
Flying, moving, walking, running, flowing, streaming, progressing, leaking
So, life is opposite of the immobility
So the move is the life
Not exists
In every moment life is gone
Life is difficult?
How?
I never get that
Always gone
as below
Eye
poems
displaying
a shapely form,
exempting audition from needless stress.
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