drum crumb
sum gum
hum mum
The chair sits empty on the alter floor
Its arms holding memories unseen
Once carrying prayers, uplifting souls
Now a silent witness waiting in sacred stillness
A core hollowed where mercy stood
Longs for the return of the humility of Christ
A muted longing, poised for grace
Where absence rests seeping out into Alberti’s space
The alter listens as prayers of devotion rise
Filling the void with hope
Holiness prepares to pour back in
Like dawn returning after the thinning tortured night
Fullness shall dwell where emptiness reigns
Strength flowing upon the embroided papal cushion
The sun brushes the valley of the nave
Rosy light spills a quiet promise
Into the incense filled smoky sadness
A renewing earth breathing words still unspoken
Is alive in prayer
Lifting promises beyond the veil of death
Into the warming morning air
The chair sits empty on the altar floor,
its arms long held memories lost from sight.
Once carrying prayers, uplifting souls,
a silent witness to life now waiting in muted space.
As too my heart and soul are emptied
of the fullness of the humility of the living Christ
An empty silence stands where mercy stood,
a throne calling out to be restored in grace.
Yet in this disquieted quiet the voices
of the dearly loved homeless and un-fed are heard
As the altar watches prayers of devotion rise,
in the emptiness prepared for God to realize.
And His world shall pour its holiness back in,
like dawn returning after the night air has grown thin.
Fullness shall lay on the cushion where absence now sits,
filling the hollow with dignity and strength .
As the sun rises across the valley of the nave
of this incensed filled smoky sadness
A golden rosy light flows through upon the marbled vault,
as a quiet promise of a renewing earth.
Morning air is poised to carry prayers still unsaid,
as promises rising from beyond the dead,
And hope is reborn in radiant glory
out of a now breathing silence into a new unfolding story.
Stark emptiness fills my perfume bottle,
The vacuum in my vacuity,
Negligence swills it beyond the dottle,
To leave my mind bare of acuity.
For many days its void of content speaks,
But its endurance keeps my freshness plump,
Compliments make its vast emptiness squeaks,
Yet it exhales resentment from its pump.
My shirts already miss its friendliness,
Noses beg to sniff its unique sweetness,
Stale air asks to reclaim lost cleanliness,
Its presence ensures far-reaching neatness.
Importance is etched upon your label,
How I so much miss your fresh aroma,
Your sweet tale cannot be told as fable,
The freshness you bring can't end in coma.
promises of nirvana
trinkets wrought from jewels and golds
hand maidens everlasting
the opulent eye unfolds
mantras of dreams fulfillment
dark angels forever loom
temples on vast horizons
past prophecies of our doom
It returned at night,
with fangs out and mouth open.
A fierce need to feed,
camoflauged by a tame face.
Mind every empty mirror.
My gentle prison holds me fast.
A lovely sadness, sharp and sweet.
My empty smiles, a silent noise.
A bitter pleasure, I can't speak.
The living death, my cruel defeat.
With happy tears, I face the day.
My kind tormentor, holds me near.
A peaceful struggle, here to stay.
Midnight silence is somewhat ambiguous
its naked truth intrinsically alive and universal
borders on emptiness and plenitude
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
The clothes lines hang empty the grass has grown tall
The apples rot down on the ground
Too thick is the fence around this garden wall
From the house of yours there’s no sound
Unfortunately, this is not a bad dream
But a matter of fact that maintains
When changes come somewhere it seems a routine
But when they come close it looks strange
The slabs will crack more, and it’s only the rain
Looks after the flowers you loved
The generous watering comes down again
The autumnal sky hangs above.
another glass poured—
questions ripple in the glass
each sip slow savored
swirled to reveal the secrets
tart on the tip of the tongue
your hand grasps at mine
arms entwine beneath the cloth—
a feast set for two
titillation passion served
pleasure decanted on course
hollow goblets clink,
laughter's dessert shops on lips
that join for quick kiss—
yet the night seeps through fingers
like the wine we cannot keep
With her youngest child now in college…beginning her own life quest…
Ali, our daughter…(as Deborah and I and so many parents before)
is left with an empty nest.
We spend years keeping our children close
giving them someone whom they can rely on
and then one day we look around
and just like that…
they’re gone.
And we’re faced with the paradox of parenting…
that pulls at our heartstrings:
How we’ve nurtured our children’s roots…
while helping to develop their wings.
Hoping those roots of love we’ve nurtured…
and helped to beautify…
will keep us all connected…no matter where they fly.
And though there’s a twinge of sadness as our children soar…
we also feel blessed
knowing those wings we helped create
will bring them back into our nest.
I hope Ali…when she looks at their unoccupied rooms
beyond her tears will also find a smile
knowing her nest will never completely empty…
just vacant for a while.
With children
a house becomes alive
Without them
an empty shell
With children
new moments of joy arrive
Without them
an unringing bell
With children
laughter stays in the air
Without them
but memories dwell
With children
the years to age unimpaired
Without them
— all magic is quelled
(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)
Ghosts that haunt empty spaces
Like objects in cabinets
that drift on window pains
As light out places the things
left in the corners of
attics and In-between
the walls and hidden faces,
memories like objects
that linger as bookmarks
to someone's history,
yellowing pages,
trinkets and toys,
old books and broken vases
sit like old photos faded,
memories of something
best left untouched or forgotten,
never stated, between the moments of memory
Like things left in shadows last and fated,
ghosts linger here and there,
pale movements in the Either,
objects of history,
a fall of light, a twist of shadow,
objects that haunt
like old souls in empty spaces…
An empty room filled
with silence,
I want to remain,
I want to dream more.
The wind pushes
the window wide
open filling the room,
no longer empty;
yet, nobody’s there,
dark, cold, empty,
middle of nowhere on top
of a hill. I can't fly
like the flower petals over
there. I step outside,
and lay on grass under
a sky filled with stars.
Maybe I can't
reach the sky, but
I want to stretch
my hand out
and still try.
The stars remain eternal.
As I walk north,
I continuously walk
among this darkness.
My happy memories haunt
me and question my
choices. I too wonder
what will become
of me, yet
I still want to struggle,
not knowing
which path to take,
I now consider this
my fate,
times of sink or swim,
life surrounded
by hardships, but
I cannot give up,
this is my fight.
Maybe I can never fly
to the sky of stars far
out of my reach, but
I still want to try.
Its only night,
the morning always
comes,
a long journey awaits me.
Fill the void that sits inside my soul,
take away the cold, restore lost parts and rebuild my core and find a way for me to be whole once more.
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