I’ve changed settings on Facebook page
To “only me” egoistic regime
Didn’t mean to provide any visible change
I see what I always have seen
Anyway, my posts were unmarked
But I didn’t want to annoy
So on privacy mode I embarked
Of the public eye being devoid
The reason is that I used to post
Too many of aphorisms
And I reckon it seemed to the most
The embarrassing anachronisms
So I feel a bit confused
It was silly to preach the converted
With warnings, probably overused
Perhaps laughingly diverted
So I climbed back into my rescue
Though sometimes I look out with hope
Is there anyone now, maybe you?
But no miracle happens, nope.
For Epiphany Poetry Contest sponsored by Constance La France
“Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.” ~ Ludwig Josef Johann Wittgenstein
As I embarked upon the world,
I absorbed an idea
that there was some great truth to find.
Coming to believe
that if I didn't possess it, I would be missing
something essential -
like a tin man without a heart.
How could I find this truth?
Would it be through hard work -
study or life experience,
or would it be powerful or divine,
an epiphany
delivered by some kind of angel?
On all the stops that I visited on the road to find out -
parents, siblings, teachers,
books, religious texts, gurus,
philosophers, artists,
people with degrees,
I asked, "What is the truth?"
and my mind became a jumbled, cacophonous mess.
I took a break from the road to truth
to take solace in nature.
For fun, I asked a tree, a hummingbird, and a lake,
"What is the truth?"
No epiphany -
I heard only silence,
beautiful silence.
In the children’s ward of a hospital,
Through the W.P.A.*
A 16-panel mural
Was, for patients, on display.
The artist, Abram Champanier,
In 1938,
Took the Lewis Carroll characters
From “Alice” to create
A tale of Wonderland’s whole cast
As they visited each site
Of the city of New York
To fill the children with delight.
So there on Lady Liberty,
The subway and the zoo,
The Empire State and Steeplechase,
Are Alice and her crew.
The building was abandoned
After years and it was marked
For a renovation, so a group
Of volunteers embarked
On a plan to save the murals,
Which they managed to preserve.
Our gratitude is not enough
To give what they deserve.
The restoration took some years
And now they are on view.
A museum** in New York is where
I saw them; so can you.
How wonderful to have a chance
To see each vibrant scene
And to reinforce the joy of art
And how much it can mean.
*Works Progress Administration
**Museum of the City of New York
In a garden of weeds
Guarding its roots, Guarding its petals
A rose arose as it danced in the winds
And envious indeed
Sheathing their tooth and tongue of metal
The weeds would boast as they pranced with deceit
For even in twilight, its petals would bloom
Like swarms of dragonflies beneath the twilight moon
It's petals, like feathers of an angel's ascent
Would sometimes wander the winds
But sometimes weather from weather
But even then, the rose will dance in the winds
Sheathing their tooth and tongue of metal
The weeds cut the rose's petals
With that, the rose had to weather
The cold storm of December
But even then, the rose would dance in the winds
That's to say–
The white rose never danced from its glamor
It would listen to the songs – the whistles of mother nature
What were storms where songs, what were rain were drums
From mother nature – only made to nurture its nature
That's to say–
The white rose, only danced in the dark
Only to lessen the tension that mother nature embarked
With a tainted stem
The rose arose as it danced
It's petals grew with its stance
Against the weeds
Against the damned
With fingers crossed,
I embarked upon life's contests.
With fingers crossed,
I took the tests.
With fingers crossed,
I did my best.
With fingers crossed,
I truly confessed.
With fingers crossed,
Sometimes I protested.
With fingers crossed,
I always expect nothing less.
With fingers crossed,
I made an amazing request.
Without God's touch.
I am a mess.
With or without my fingers crossed,
I always know that I am blessed.
Is it too late, time's long journey to take -
down the magic landscape of ages gone by?
It's long past midnight, and I'm still awake,
gazing through recall's dreamlike, hazy sky.
I sense that I am growing ever near -
the decades pass among evergreen trees.
I feel peace, joy, and tidings of good cheer,
as the snow floats in a watery breeze.
Will I arrive at that enchanted place,
as the years, my mind, does slowly pillage?
Will I see, before the time will erase,
a fat old man in an elfin village?
Yes! I am happy I embarked to go
on memory's trip through a globe of snow.
We embarked without a clue
Life throwing us multiple twists and turns
Looking back ~ all was perfect
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 2nd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
He discovered no prime that was divisible.
Yet, he found a way to become invisible.
So, he embarked on a crime and murder spree.
But he forgot just one thing, as you shall see.
The national guard caught up with him at last
because of the tell-tale shadow that he cast.
Creation is something that many have embarked to acheive
My belief is to get out of the way of trying to create while rolling up my sleeve
The next step truly has its own journey, distance yourself from thinking too deep
A great idea or creation could end up as a technique too steep
It looks amazing once I eject myself out of the anomaly's plan
Where do these ideas come from? could it be my mood or my hand
A trust needs to appear for it is all that works in a moment of creation
It will happen once all the elements bind together when it comes into fruition
I'm proud to call myself an artist with multitudes of talents
Whether I'm sad, depressed or just joyfully absent
Infusing tricks that remain tacky or cheesy has no place in my arsenal
Or should I just be and allow without a mehtod that's enforceable
Creation is the process of channelling a wave of discoveries
Marked in crystal birthing of artistic prophesies
They already exist in disjointed pieces
My job is to unearth them and assemble the
Art.
Bleak Conclusion
(Soul Travel)
Cultivating escape
Travel on a smoky train
Destination approaching
Window searching
Are you with me?
Abundant open scenery
Emotions empty
Travel collective with embraced memories
Snap shot photography
Vacation long over due
Dancing flowers animation view
Arms wrapped around freedom
Embarked poetry sink therapeutic
Wings fly upon azure air
Rhymes drown in rhythms
Minimized stained glass windows
Travel afar
Can’t fathom many miles
A new journey captured
Bleak conclusion
Soul searching
Mind pondering
Life parallel
Travel here and there
She takes what isn't hers like a burglar.
Her spouse wed his lover.
She shut her eyes and once more she lost him to that *witch*.
She views him as all-powerful.
Finally! She wears his ring.
Now it’s time to hold her tongue and demonstrate to the world that she belongs to Master Shingh.
What goes around comes back around; karma is a *trickster*.
Now it’s casual intimacy with Tess the *slutty switch*.
He smiles; she chuckles.
He slows down; she accelerates.
He sneezes, she responds with “bless you.”
She embarked on her new life without hesitation.
To her, the man is all-powerful.
She reverses the ground he treads.
“Yes, master; no, master”—somehow, she manages to love, respect, and obey.
She takes things like a thief.
Most so called world leaders have been abused.' Than eases the task of making
Them of use.' War is always the main ploy
The shop window , that can be employed.'
The display arranged, to entice.' Never a light
On the backdrop of velvety vice.' Its mostly
About (freedom and choice) from the medium,
With strident voice.' With the marrow of humanity's senses under-mined and some
Mantra ( that all will be fine') we are embarked
On another foray.. Three cheers for sound
Reason, now..we are off with a Hip..pip..pip and Hooray...'
E very parent nurtures, through laughter and tears,
M aking dreams bloom across fleeting years.
P rotecting their young from a world unknown,
T eaching life's lessons in a loving tone.
Y et, in time, their children will chart their course,
N ewly embarked, driven by life's force.
E ntering realms that were once untold,
S eparated from warmth, in a world so bold,
T hey will value the lessons you’d hoped to mold.
"And if there's gonna be a life here after,
And faith somehow I'm sure there's gonna be,
I will ask my God to let me make my Heaven,
In that dear place together you and me."
Quote by Tommy Flemming and the Poet
you became the gate through which I entered reality
my vitality
we embarked together on a journey to sensuality
morality
you are still the gateway to floodlights in my mind
my find
by day the sun rose just to witness our adoration
infatuation
In every storm you were the thunder
my wonder
you were my strength against life unfurled
our world
melting to look into your soulful eyes
mesmerize
we walked as one, stride by stride
by your side
Your splendid embrace
souls interlace
always my mate
it was our gate
going through
with you
**
when that ghostly apparition appears
my fears
and all but our love is godforsaken
we refuse to be taken
groaning and grief-stricken we part
my heart
on gossamer wings the angel will save
our grave
going through the gate in stormy weather
we are together
I AM THE LIGHT WITHIN THE DARK
On the course of life's highway;
I am walking to mine horizon;
In the witness I am smart;
I'm a walking to mine horizon;
I am the light, within the dark;
I am the heat, in the fire spark;
When noon nest loses in light;
Standing on the curb
In the witness I am smart;
I am righteously embarked;
On the course of life's highway;
I am walking to mine horizon;
I am the heat, in the fire spark;
I am the light, within the dark;
PIDGIN(NIGERIAN)?for di coarse for life's highway;
i am walking to mine horizon;
for di witness i am smart;
i'm a walking to mine horizon;
i am di lait, for inside di dark;
i am di heat, for di faya spark;
wen noon nest looses for lait;
standing for di curb
for di witness i am smart;
i am righteously embarked;
for di coarse for life's highway;
i am walking to mine horizon;
i am di heat, for di faya spark;
i am di lait, for inside di dark;
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