CHEMIN FAISANT
With every season I strove to stay on the lit path.
I tried the best I could, expectantly; at least I thought so.
Synclines and anticlines, chemin faisant, the Prize forefront.
I knew He went before, to light up the Way.
With smiles, groans modulating the smiles, I did follow.
The secrets of the Saints I wished I knew, for reassurance.
Some gains, loss at their heels; yet pressing on, quite determined.
I knew that by His grace I’d keep to His Way.
Swerving from pesky promptings,
I chose ma Verite´ et mon Chemin, la Vie pour moi.
The lit path, His very Way;
Net forward trudge along the perfect highway.
Le Prix; chemin faisant, el premio es el Sen~or.
He’s Love; He doesn’t fail; ecce *****who shows me the Way.
His arms outstretched for me; welcoming me with holy embrace.
Lucid invitation, nudge to embrace Grace.
Car nul ne vient la? que par Lui; gaping gate on Easter morn.
Slowed by the plod, yet heart pounding, and empowered by His Grace;
Gleefully, I made it there by following His Way.
The Perfection Way.
I was incased
in an igneous abode
you could not discern
my watermint sense
but catadromous
unwind
their pantograph
linearize
crookedly bladed link
rosinweed and spoonflower
outgrow technobabble
stratification
calcedony bicolor translucent
zymogen expectantly
diffract southwest
we were burdened
mammalian carrier
through telescope
transparency
never
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 31–September 6, 2026)
When i came home i found grief instead of you.
I found pain, anger, and confusion.
But not the anger everyone is familiar with.
No.
I found the anger that felt as if it was constantly burning within me,
not wanting to let me go.
The bracelets on the kitchen side,
and the people huddled in the living room, waiting expectantly for me, my anger and confusion
to arrive like the wirlwind of emotions that they were.
Desperately wanting to tell me the news, yet somehow , deep down,
i already knew what those next few words would be.
The constant " i'm sorry's " and " i wish i could make things better for you ".
Yet each time the rage, the anger and the confusion kept growing and growing and growing until, the wirlwind of emotions turned.
Almost as if they were a river waiting to burst it's banks.
But one day, i realised that these waves of emotions were the only thing connecting me and you.
and so from now on, a piece of my heart is in heaven.
Happy new breaths afresh to start anew
The journey round around calendar's length
Up and down the rows and columns renew
View that bring up mum's delivery joy's strength
How happy moment transformed pain to joy-
At childbirth; expectantly of baby,
Alhamdulilah! Wow! A baby boy,
Whose birth silent doubt's inner voice, maybe.
And light lips' heavy weight waiting turn's twist,
To shout of praise to Allah for both beings,
Having been through death midst life, God resist¡
What turbulent evil atmosphere brings!
Now grown up; hale, hearty and handsome man,
Whose look alone can woo prettiest woman.
LABYRINTHINE PATHS
“You have no need to travel anywhere—journey within yourself. Enter a mine of rubies and bathe in the splendor of your own light.” Rumi
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I walk softly into the labyrinth,
knowing not what I will find.
Cautiously, I journey within.
Through labyrinthine paths I meander
seeking answers.
Expectantly, I journey within.
Time unfolds like an origami crane,
‘art of being’ stitched to its wings.
Silently I journey within.
I take apart this paper sculpture
each fold a lesson in being.
Optimistically, I journey within.
I look for truth on the crumpled paper,
the complex duality of my existence.
Scrupulously, I journey within.
My heart is a labyrinth,
its chambers filled with longing.
Joyfully, I journey within.
I emerge, transformed, quietly reassured.
The journey within is the journey home.
My burning red raw, bloodshot eyes,
strain expectantly, under reluctant skies,
counting fingers, with tearful sighs,
longing for sunbeams, to defiantly prys,
open cracks in gray clouded sunrise.
An eye soon cries when a spirit expires,
lowering a curtain over its own demise,
knowing that gray clouds, in soft disguise,
conceal a heart, where storm rage resides.
We can’t grasp, retrieve, or analyze,
every drop of tear that fate applies,
or drown out our faltering hopeful smiles,
with splattered stings, spat from leaden skies.
Let's stride forward beyond what woe betides,
that arise from seeing skies cloudy at sunrise,
to cherish every moment, without compromise-
as bearers of gifts that bring joyous surprise.
Wake
The ever present enemy
Overbearing and oppressively
Shadowing expectantly
As forethought always secondly
Two minds hang suspended be
Interrupting thoughtlessly
Relentless and attentively
Aressting so effectively
Contented is left restlessly
Thrashed into docility
Numbing the auxiliary
Concerning such complacency
Overwhelming this tranquillity
Resolute in the obscurity
Abstracting absurdity
With Orchestrated entropy
Worn out by pacificity
Sleep
Lee considered himself the most famous chili maker in the west
Added tobacco, Heinz 57, cinnamon, gave it a big taste test
We had heard about his concoctions, and could not wait.
The first bite was terrible, second bitter, the third one a bad fate.
What about this stew had given him a glowing review?
We could not keep our faces straight; this stuff was a big boo-hoo.
Lee waited expectantly, but none of us play poker.
His terrific chili had been replaced by his wife’s, she was a horrible joker.
When we got the straight stuff, it was worth the wait.
Lee was a fabulous chili maker; his concoction was quite great.
Why did you do that? We asked her, for the why we could not guess.
I was a bit jealous, said his evil wife, Miss Jess.
To sunshine and its blushing dawn
and brilliant sunsets we are drawn
which over plains and mountains glow.
How sweet God’s blessings that we know.
We wait expectantly to see
pink cherry blossoms on a tree
and flowers that in springtime grow.
How sweet God’s blessings that we know.
The warbling bird; the butterfly;
the promise painted in blue sky -
dear Lord’s awe-inspiring rainbow.
How sweet God’s blessings that we know.
The scintillating stars of night;
a moon in June when big and bright;
refreshment that soft breezes blow.
How sweet God’s blessings that we know.
Cool streams and rivers running clear;
fall’s bounties before winter’s near;
the tranquil days of virgin snow.
How sweet God’s blessings that we know.
As a lotus raises its head to receive the sun rays
I wait expectantly for my Lord's whisper in my ears.
In the forms of Satan or tempter, evil has its ways.
Amidst my fears, it enters my spheres and wishes me cheers.
Whispers between blossoms and flies are secret and sacred.
Agape of give and take are amalgamated in them.
What else can the ways of the devil be except hatred?
They deceive as the fading colours of petals and stem.
I'll give you the world and wonders, he says, as though they're his.
Can I take these with me when I pass through the cave of my grave?
Each moment of my existence has been a baffling quiz
His whispers would enslave me while the divine grace would save.
A tree might listen to the voices of both storm and breeze.
Though they bear the sounds of storms, does any tree feel at ease?
April showers may dampen Dallas Texas torrents glooming deluge on path way
Priceless zooming presence; shrouds blend violets and daisies blooming in May
Rain forecast an encumbered view; stubborn clouds cause distressing delay
Isn’t raining rain you know, it’s raining diamonds vrooming diamond souffle
Look expectantly skyward, your Ray Bans don, for the Solar Eclipse it's today!
“Give them back! Give my tears back, right now—with interest!!”
—Natsuki Takaya
She wrote her marine a letter, hopeful, bright
loved with her kisses and perfume. In sight,
the postman circles ‘round. Expectantly, she
hurries to the wooden box, near the Pear tree.
Spring is in the air with robins mating, daffodils
in potent bloom and the sudden goosebump’ chills.
Sarah shuts her bedroom door, pounces on bed,
allows steam to open the envelope, read what’s said.
“Dear Sarah, soon I go into the fight, I will write more
later, after the attack. Kiss kiss, x x, hug hug score.”
Later he continues with blood, sweat and tears.
Incoherently, blots - black and blue, slide down. Fears
march up and down her spine. Vietnam’s magic trick
was to steal her joy and love. America’s turning quick -
long ere, a neighbor, fathomed regress from her guy,
which would rip the torrential tearful cloud of her eye.
beautiful mermaid floated her dream into a wish bubble
it featured the lighthouse where she met the sailor
she waited expectantly for the sky gods to show her the way
You can live your life believing all will end well
However, where we end up we can’t really foretell
Expectantly looking forward, to a time of warm peaceful bliss
But if continually knocked down, would golden really be like this
That so called period of the golden years
Sometimes easily drifts away in darkness and tears
Why is it? that time flies
when we are having fun
Yet creeps along so slowly
when we are expectantly
waiting for an event.
Or flashes past
when we look back
on important things
like mile stones.
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