Experiences: Do they act entirely on their own?
Have you ever gone from gridlock to marveling at why?
A song can make you start to cry,
Or why an axiom someone spoke last year
Can fill a quiet room with panic?
You think you've shifted along and grown,
So do a group act without reservation on their
Own?
They perch like dust on an old armchair,
Unseen until you catch them there,
A sudden compulsion to walk away,
A bad habit from a minor day-
It feels like an individual takes over,
Like an old habit luring us under.
They bump your elbow when you write.
They keep you up, jammed into the after hours.
They strive to tell you who you are,
By guiding back at every imperfection.
It's easy to feel like a commuter liable.
In an uncaged train of old, dense thought.
But a memory can't take a single pace,
It's just a bond your body reserved,
They drive the motor vehicle when you drop
The wheel,
And ditto the things you used to sense.
Some have a voice, but you grip the passkey.
They're just a part of you, not who you have to be.
POETIC ART EXPERIENCES
reputation
bearing
&prepared
in
hermetic
principles
of
essays
looking
closely
supporting
detailed
attempts
to
vindicate
arguments
perceptualising
& emphasing
developed
painterly
closeness
Life and death; light and dark
Love offers.
Through warm-tingling reactions;
And numbing.
A sky-high view; deep pit's.
Heaven. Hell.
Up, down a joy ride or not
Am one in.
TRIPTYCH EXPERIENCES
portrayed
surrounded
now
repotoire
recited
recalls
questioning
the formulae
to
stimulate
subjectivity
delicious
luminous
dialogue
in
bizarre
graduated
contrasts
with unbridled
shades
predominantly
prevailing
afresh
in sensitive
hesitant
scenarios
passionate
unreachable
role-play
studies
of
facial
splendour
in
lavish
concept
a
formulated
process
to
conveys
a
quiet relaxed
series
carefully
fronted
emphasis
balanced
precise
awareness
with
vital
counterparts
in
closely
occasioned
devices
INTERMITTENT EXPERIENCES-:-
satisfactory
responsed
immediacy
intractably
synthesised
in EMOTIONAL AUTHENTICITY
impressed
indications
imagined
emergent
intimacy
with en face DIGNITY
timorous
anonymous
integrity
genuinely
reflected
Dear Poetry,
What would I do without you?
You have been my avenue of self-expression,
My platform to release confessions,
And an outlet to aid me in my own emotional healing.
How can I ever repay you
For the countless times you have saved me,
The creative writer you have made me,
And the ways in which you have given me hope
When I felt my world crumbling down around me?
It is in this art form that I claim my purpose,
The reason I can bring my words to the surface,
That enables me to push past the pain with a pin—
My deepest thoughts within,
Impatiently waiting to be placed on paper.
Dear Poetry,
You are my voice when I can’t speak,
My strength whenever I am weak,
And my courage that allows me to be just who I am, despite what others may think of me
I am now and forever grateful for letting go—
Letting go of what no longer serves me: a state of mind once deemed unworthy, now discarded, where value of self has taken its place.
And though at times, thoughts of doubt still echoes in my mind, like the footsteps in an empty hallway, it is with this pin, that I have learned how to quiet the negative thoughts within
The therapist was a mirror of myself,
She wore the same skin -
She understood the words from my mouth
She said -
‘It’s okay to be black, and ask for help’
She validated my pain, her voice made me calm
She told me -
‘Just because you're a black girl, doesn’t mean you have to be strong’
She taught me to by myself,
She allowed my softness to come out
My therapist shared my experiences,
And i have never felt so seen,
To help me feel more comfortable, she opened up to me,
And now i feel safe to share my vulnerabilities
… and so the days move forward and as we reminisce
We think of how things used to be before we came to this
The days of yore: More simplistic; innocence so young
Aspirations to the sky, and travels so far-flung
But Life is not yet over, many dawns are yet to be
We cannot allow ourselves to live in reverie.
Tomorrow may bring wonders imaginations can’t conceive
And they will live within us - in our lives to interweave.
So while the past was wondrous – we don’t regret a thing
The future holds more wonders within our lives to bring
Smiles and joys we’ve never met, things alive and new
So look forward to Tomorrow – there are things awaiting you.
One Experiences
Free to Be?
Choosing every single day.
Grandma used to say Experience is
The best teacher
Focusing on one person at a time.
What belongs to me will find me.
Experiences
Different places, Time zones, and unfamiliar faces seem similar to
Familiar faces, manners.
On occasions, the Universe takes one
On journeys to release and reflect.
Trust the plan, look within oneself.
Doing as others tells you is blind
Until one found themselves as well.
In distance and in solitude not in exile
But independence is one's superpower.
One's experiences.
bruises scars and stretch marks
the sum total of diverse past experiences
~ I am strength and stamina
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Wounded by its lack
Distrustful of it
Inured to its absence
In thrall to its allure
Fooled by its simulacrum
Estranged from it
Paralysed by fear of losing it
Inexorably exposed to it
Resolved against it
Consumed by longing for it
A scholar to its foreign texts
A slave to its compulsions
Compelled to search for it
Forever
Hopeful
Alice embraced the warmth
of the bitter-sweet liquid concoction
Curiosity of "drink me" caused this
Swirls began to know no limits
Ground twisting and breaking
The sky accumulating thick constellations
Up through the opening of what appears to be a magical mist
Alice wonders what this is
Quickly, the world changed, or was it Alice
Entering what seemed similar to Saturn
Alice meets a being small and strange
With green and orange scaly skin
Lue is the name
Together, the creature and Alice met many others
How did I find a world of such wonders
The threads we weave in the early years
Define the ties that hold our fears
Attachment forms, a hidden thread
Guiding the paths where we are led
Some reach for love with open arms
while others guard with quiet alarms
The past, it molds the way we love
A blueprint written from above
My paper seeks to lift the veil
To understand how patterns sail
For through this lens, we can repair
The bonds we seek, the love we share
TIME
Thought of all the seconds,
That went like a mist at dawn.
Tried to hold all the minutes for lifetime
But it flowed like water with no grapple
Waited for the hours of fortunes that I desiderate
As you are the sun that quenches every soul of an incarnate
But being in you can burn the spirits with fiery fire
Hastened to get rid of the all the days of stormy clouds
Disregarding the silver linings around them that one needs to count on
And learned that you are the equinox of every mortal
Hoped for the years to go right
never disappointed even when the right seems to be left
All the ups and downs you placed
All the love and hatred you showered
All the laughs and cries that I held
Trickled in the brink of the eye
Waiting for you at the edge of the door
where you passed like a breeze that never noticed
Awaiting all the moments to fill again
There are time capsules in the rural Mid-West,
not retro constructs, but temporal dislocations
that remain as was,
for lack of a reason to be other.
Small town restaurants are steeped
in a comfortable inertia;
diners serve
all broasted, broiled and breaded everything.
Amish noodles nestle in thick white bowls.
There are still drive-in movies
where movies once missed
can be missed again.
We have bars where the jukebox is not a junk box
but a wood and chrome depository
for long archived selections.
Beer here is brewed as brawny
as rolled-up forearms.
We’re futuristic in a plaid and dilatory way.
We are post-modern Jetson reruns,
we dwell just West of the middle of tomorrow.
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