The sun ignites, the moon replies,
their love condemned beneath the skies.
He burns by day, she glows by night,
two souls apart, denied their right.
He rises, she falls, a cruel design,
two hearts aligned but never in time.
The universe casts its binding chains,
yet devotion flows through cosmic veins.
An eclipse—brief mercy, a fleeting kiss,
proof that forbidden love still exists.
Is this the fate of sun and moon alone,
or of all lovers whom society disowns?
Tell the Wind
perhaps your life is
made of desperation
illnesses and sometimes truth
people disappoint you
family disowns you
and still you exist
still you wake daily
take up the reins of your occupation
to spend precious time just doing
perhaps your life is
molded firmly
desire being for just one more day
one more hour at the stone wheel
but, you can tell the wind
you can breathe into it and breathe from it
and perhaps you will receive an answer
just tell the wind
C2026 Thomas Lee Rhymes February 12, 2026
Soulless
Dissected
A heart turning back
Jilted
Rejected
Last stab in the back
Mourning
New morning
The day unatoned
Nighttime
The verdict
Whose sentence disowns
Lovers
And lizards
The swamp but the same
Feeding
On hunger
Starvation the game
Cursing
each blessing
with heartache reset
Dying
While living
— new tears wait unwept
(The New Room: January, 2024)
The urge to travel,
to spread your wings and fly away,
never rooted to one spot.
never spotted on a route.
signpost now defunct,
map a feeble pointer,
direction only by one’s nose.
Intuition in ascendence,
as day and night blur anaemic edges.
Fleet of foot dream chaser,
never-ending sequence,
is chaotically just that.
Event foreman cast,
in a starry-eyed plot,
script writer of their own unique journey,
stagecoach vagrant from,
a who-knows-where platform,
speed bump skipper on a blind course,
taking the "lie" of the land.
In every sense a false scents,
trailblazer has a life of their own,
but tragically a life that both owns,
and disowns them in "equal" measure.
Time-lapse photographer flagged,
by ephemera but doesn't notice,
loop by loop square off,
under amber moonlight passage.
faraway green seeker,
bereft of halting site,
with no stop off in between,
momentum the only resting place
An orphan of destiny
whose birthmark disowns
A life spent indentured
his spirit on loan
Caught in a time warp
unable to leave
The future in chains
contentment bereaved
A child of the moment
left on the streets
Time as his captor
in shoes of concrete
Forever unwelcome
a foster relayed
From instant to instant
his memory replays
An orphan of destiny
whose grief is reborn
In weeks unrelenting
his calendar scorned
Last chance at adoption
it calls from within
The voice of acceptance
—from him unto him
(Dreamsleep: June, 2023)
Azzure night calls
rush blurry eyes
Pigeons came a calling
Waterloo I curse you
morning came a sneaking
The unaccustomed scratch gilded fear
Suited clad
screeches the acceptable
Strange exiles disowns the Thames
Spider-black crawls the night.
Blankets hang like obese bats
from sleeping arms.
Is it the bewitching hour?
No it is 4 o'clock.
Sleep slugged me at 2.30AM
nightmares came and went.
No ghosts or ghouls
just the rumblings of a disordered soul.
Snippets of an ordinary life
stretched into horror stories,
days I have spent a lifetime trying to forget
slip under my eyes to turn on
a whirring movie projector.
When I get up to pee
my urine smells like stale wine,
back in bed that head on the pillow
disowns me
as I dare once again
to close my eyes.
I said it all long ago
once in a poem
Nothing to restate,
no words to explain
The waters have traveled,
my ship has long sailed
Your curious intention
brings only refrain
All thoughts into memory
whose feelings have gone
The property of others
my words now belong
Wishing and hoping
the spirit disowns
All wisdom diverted
—to skip that last stone
(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)
Nubs and dents and chips and strings
Imperfect world that burns and stings
Dings and scratches, holes and bends
Those flawed existence dividends
Cuts and bruises, broken bones
People that the world disowns
Paupers, cowards, plagues and kings
Imperfect world of many things
On a secret journey she has long been
walking in the dark alley of her lonely life
losing the fragile sanctity to the flood of strife
drowns deep within the sucking cesspool of sin.
In the desolate depth of the darkest night
she searches for the sinking soul in torment
finds it sliced in the debris of shame to repent
pines to be free from the bonds of despised plight.
In surging storm blowing with pent up remorse
the strands of her mind swirl like the hair blown
hiding with her sordid hands the face she disowns
prays to God to show her drifted life’s virtuous course.
____________
August 9, 2020
For Brian Strand's Contest A Brian Strand July 16
I am just a tree
So be my taproot
Not leaves that fall
When seasons shoot
Their bullets of fall
I am just a man
So be my life
Not a wife that flees
When things strike
Like stings of bees
I am just a wife
So be my husband
Not a man that frowns
When marriage lands
On some ups and downs
I am just a car
So be my steering wheel
Not tyres that roll
At maximum speed
Obliviously to their goal
I am just a country
So be my patriot
Not a tourist that comes
And turns into Judas Iscariot
When darkness storms
I am just a night
So be my twinkling star
Not a gloomy cloud
That mars me with scars
And disowns a clown
He, momentarily
looks in my direction
Now glancing away, so
how could he, when once he
told me I was his world
Splinters of heartache pierce
my wretched heart disowns
Your heartlessness exposed
3/17/20
More feels unknown
Where touch disowns
The seed unsown
The wind whispers
In cold echoes
Upon the way
The quest answers
In sheer surprise
As frolic plays
The guile undone
Tells of insight
Where reason stray
The poise reveals
A kind heart here
That dwells unseen
The cause invokes
A touch certain
Yet still unknown
The wit assumes
A deep delight
That waits within
The times provoke
A style without
That shouts discrete
The wind blown trace
Now floods this space
With hidden face
Leon Enriquez
29 August 2019
Singapore
God has blessed with everything in life,eat well,dress sense and enjoy life but don’t waste.Something someone wastes certainly another’s and he disowns that one wastes!
Time not only seems to be speeding up…
it actually is
Perception trumping reality looking forward,
not looking back
Undercooked moments blow into the future,
their aroma unsettling
As tomorrow disowns today
—lamenting the past
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2019)
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