Is our true love was going anywhere?
After traditional local fun fair
Nothing does compare, with the teasing scare
Where we share, our mature teen age affair
Passing written notes, from pens we borrow
Wonder about future, unknown horror
Sunny blue skies? After we say goodbye?
Studying college courses are new try
Meeting new friends, saying, he’s a nice guy
Semester we wander getting credit
Attend class confessing "should have read it"
Or the other excuse, “I don’t get it”
Compass directs one to the campus bar
Healing wounds from the bloody mark grade scar
By our village home perched on a green plateau low
a sparkling brook meandered like a garland to flow.
On its waters paper boats I at five sailed with glee
to distant dreamland configured in my infant fantasy.
At fifteen and in teens to study seriously I was told,
for that shaped what the future for me would hold.
Between study and play I carefully divided time spell.
My strategy worked for in the exams I did fairly well.
At thirty to curve the tough career course I was busy,
in the competitive world that for me was not easy.
The onus of raising the family I also needed to face.
I felt happy that this I could do well by God’s grace.
At fifty when I was scaling career’s challenging height
the coming retirement days loomed large in my sight.
With the children settled and gone on their own ways
I planned well for me and my wife to meet those days.
At seventy I felt I was walking on the last mile track,
but with the life spent I was contended looking back.
I thanked God for gifting me new days’ sunrise to see,
pondered when the fated end would come to take me.
Saw it coming
Started running
Through woods
As fast as I could
Beautiful mirage arrived
Not going to die
Equipped with answers
From club dancers
"Do not fear
I have a long neck beer"
I watched her work
Popped the bubbly cork
After expressing wedding vows
Complementing our moonlight howls
God’s breath unseen
moving life in secret
like the wind
fueling sun to heat
and earth to spin
brightening day
with colors
to sounds
of cheers
love energy
that birthing life
sustains it
spring to spring
carrying life
in womb
seed to seeds
moving mind
to build
a speeding wheel
or soar the sky
lifting up
on wings
love light
ignited by God
at birth
to be increased
or pulling out
the wire
from source of Light
without faith
in darkness
it dies
same light that guides
to lamp
on windowsill
paternal
joining segment
of life's reached
end
to the beginning
as it starts again
circling
young forever
Love eternal.
Fifth Place Winner: Brian Strand-1484 Premiere Contest-6/30/26
Warmth spreads like sunshine on frosted stone,
wanes within the unsolicited kindness seeds sown.
Wounds sewed with strings torn from fabric of care,
carrying quiet scars unsaught empathy bounties bear.
out of mind out of sight.
it’s just my luck that’s tough luck.
Next thing you know Im down one.
Slow to erupt.
observing society fuss.
anxiety it’s all love it’s me it’s you equals us.
we all we need that’s enough.
told me to hush.
Sensitive to much.
it’s just my luck that’s tough luck.
absorbing everything like a sponge.
So we always in touch.
this that about such and such.
now it’s an impasse talk too much.
like attracts like,I am the company I keep.
still sleep. really. reemerge
show concern. how to discern.
value in disperse
I adjust debunk
it’s just my luck it’s tough luck.
At the edge of my sky dipped in destiny free
when the new sun arose in spectral color spree,
my lonely languid life woke up to promise me,
someday it would sail me across the stormy sea
to the shimmering island of my dream I’d be,
where I’d absorb the twilight patina of glee,
drench the soul in the stardust glow of ecstasy.
But this would never happen, I could not foresee,
life did not keep its promise, discounted my plea.
I could not rise from the fallen sky’s dark debris,
with the dust of despair I find all my dreams flee
past the end path I walk the last mile of journey.
Early Summer Haiku Edited
ripening cherries
hanging on trees in daylight~
bats feasting at night;
at morning sunshine
wastage and garbage on ground~
harvest hopes shattered.
July 2, 2025
Contest : Pick A Pensee 2
Sponsor : Nette Onclaud
tear drops
drizzle of pain
configure mind’s upwelled brine
silent seep in desolate stream
psychic shape of sorrow
Happy
Yappy
Husky
Puppy
Barking
Playing
Jumping
Running
Growing
Showing
Stronger
Vigour
Guarding
Barking
Growling
Marking
Pees trees
With ease
Declines
Bath times
Bribes him
I win
Years past
Too fast
Sleeps more
Joints sore
Time to
Let go
Tail waves
Bye bye
Asleep
I weep
Sky shows
Rainbow
He leaves
I grieve.
"Lingering leaves of gold frolic in the wind"
and though their twirling is such a beautiful sight,
the limbs of the trees look as if they've been thinned,
so those trees seem desolate in the twilight.
Also, the day of my birthday came fast,
so no sooner had sweet autumn arrived,
then September had already passed.
Sadly, early fall cannot be revived.
Oh, those Indian summer's bright days
brought both joy and some comfort to me.
I’d lounge upon my deck in the sun’s rays,
but October too later had to flee.
November now has come; the days grow grey.
Right now the sky is crimson, and it's cold.
However, as long as the sunset can stay,
I still can stand here admiring leaves of gold.
(I was missing a line, so I had to fix that)
Line of inquiry:
"as an entity in the dream we conjured
we know not we are both the dreamer and dreamed
how then may we wake up when we are in trance
in bondage to illusions we ourselves streamed" -Unseeking Seeker
Philosophers have pondered: Is life a dream?
And if that’s so, what happens when we sleep?
While conscious or unconscious, it would seem
we’d be dreaming all the time! Would we reap
the consequences of all things we do?
What if in dreams we wandered all the time?
What of all the poor souls who only knew
bleak misery instead of dreams sublime?
How sad for those whose lives like nightmares are.
Asleep, do they know also only strife?
Can their joy be as distant as a star?
i know we must be awakened to life,
but when dreams are sweet (though they may be fake)
let me slumber on; I wish not to wake.
The inception edited
On his space-ship had traveled far to
a place where no big bang had happened
No rocks had been thrown into the room
named stars and planets like Saturn
Pluto and Mars
A place that can not be called dark because
darkness suggests an absence of light
Where a compact silence had slowed his ship
had no beginning or end
there was no North, West, South or East
navigating back to life was a hopeless task
no, up or down, left or right
He had reached a point where nothing had
ever existed, he asked himself what is
the origin of life?
Was there a spirit, call it God, that put the pieces
together and created life
it’s past sleep
the presence of quietness lingers
dark cheeks
against the window pane
but there’s light
on my side
of the street
Christmas lingers
like electricity
surging through wires
and the switch
won’t be turned off
quite yet
my tree stands tall
in its present darkness
because
it’s past sleep
but my mind lingers
over this poem
that I must complete
before
I climb under warm sheets
and I switch
to dreams
of
proverbial sugar plums
no crumbs
left for the eve
of a new year
but
that is a story
for
the morrow
no longer
will I linger
it’s quite late
I’m off
to bed
ready
set
snooze
and I linger
til
ten o’clock
as a bright
then brighter
light lingers
Penniless in le Havre.
In the time of my nadir penniless in Le Havre
in the drizzle, I saw the blue neon light of a bar
I met sailors from my country
they gave me cigarettes and wine
also money so I could take the train home
thanks to the generosity of the poor
I had a pencil and a block of paper and tried to
collect my thoughts of what I was thinking.
Found I was more educated than I thought
that is what reading a thousand books does to your brain confuse you to believe that you are better than others.
I also saw my difficulties
and the inability to live in the present.
I bought a typewriter but had no grammar, and it was slow going.
I was given a small pension, enough for the daily bread.
I have written what I wanted to write and have
in that process, lost a few friends.
The trap of selfishness is easy to fall into
it was the simple people
it was in Le Havre I met the good people
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