A speck of dust upon the moss,
A tiny life the breezes toss,
Too small for any passing eye,
Beneath the wide and heavy sky.
It has no stem to proud upright,
No brilliant petals catching light,
No perfume drifts across the lake,
Where sleeping frogs and ripples wake.
Yet Wolffia drifts, a microscopic dot,
Upon the still pond's quiet spot,
No roots to anchor in the silt,
No green and spreading leaves to wilt.
A speck of green, a simple grain,
Untouched by heavy summer rain,
Two grains of salt could match its weight,
So small it mocks the grand and great.
Through needle eyes its frame could slide,
Like quiet hurts we lock inside,
A single stamen, lonely fruit,
An empire built without a root.
The busy bee goes buzzing by,
To seek the garden's painted crowd,
And misses where the treasure lies,
Concealed from all impatient eyes.
Whole ages fade and cities rust,
While mountains crumble into dust,
The loudest voices fade away,
Like shadows at the end of day.
For greatness is not born of might,
Or standing tallest in the light,
The weary heart can still endure,
With quiet steps, and purposes pure.
oceanic cruise ~
dream of a lifetime
to explore the world
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Who has the power.? Those who will apply power, gain more power.' And begin to
Appreciate how to exersize the power so
Far realised.' Reach out for power to
achieve
A full release.' Of files anywhere that have
Abusive content..Also there are records that are not in government files.' If anyone
Has such and witnesses, copy the photos
And other evidence, and share multiple of these among your group, and conduct a mass release to alternative media sources
Followed by mainstream outfits and pertinent law firms asking for their appraisal..Smash through the suffocation
Maybe.? awaken the powerful masses of
People ( who must realise they can use their voice ) and multiply their power and
Reach.)
It was early in the morning
I had my cup of tea
When a little robin landed
Beside me peculiarly
Outside on the porch
We talked, him and I
I taught him how to speak
He taught me how to fly
We glided over deserts
And perched atop jungles
We saw men and women talking
Beneath us just a mumble
We saw Paris and Rome
Geneva and Berlin
We saw wonders of the world
Places no man has ever been
I wiped a tear from my eyes
As we landed back home
For I had seen miracles
Which I had never known
Fly away I said
To that little brown bird
Go away from this place
It is not safe, take my word
But he did not listen
And he stayed right by my side
He taught me how to live
I taught him how to die
Thus is the way
With humans and robins
I am afraid it all ends
In a fate far too common
So fly away
While you still have a chance
Less you end up like the foolish robin
And the lonely old man
Hawaii here I come
not for a day or a week but
for three whole months
I want to really get
to experience the island
meet your friendly people
climb each volcano
try on a grass skirt
dance at your luaus
run along your beaches
snorkle and see your reefs
listen to the whales swim by
No intentions of leaving until I have learned
the smell of each Hawaiian flower
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on January 4, 2026 for contest DREAM DESTINATION sponsored by SOTTO POET - RANKED 2ND
proud samoyed dog
south pole front runner
explorer's best friend
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Precious, pretty, fleeting.
Flitting butterfly, lifting
wings, too heavy.
One, two, three…
One, two, three…
the flower’s delighted
to be explored.
Colors, themselves,
adored or unnoticed.
Just that one spot, spotting
the prettiness in the pot;
the stems stand tall;
lantanas, an unsung song.
Silence in the flapping.
How can the breeze accommodate,
provide a zephyr, a zip, a zest,
unrest?
My eyes rest upon loveliness -
this fixed point; is the universe
such things - I could explore
forever, one iota at a time.
So little time—
Yet so much left undone!
On the pages of life still remain
Sketches of dreams left to run.
So many promises lost in the mist,
So many hopes quietly withdrew—
Countless paths remain untraveled,
So many sights left out of view.
What still remains—
To behold the world with wide-open eyes,
To truly live each fleeting moment,
And feel the joy that never dies.
To roam the lands of dream and wonder
Between the covers of a book,
To feel each journey pulse within,
In every line, in every look.
To drift on lyrics, ride the tune,
Let the soul rise and explore—
Unfurl the wings of thought and feeling,
To touch the sky, to soar.
The heart awakens in silent verse,
Where emotions dance and dwell,
In every rhyme and subtle pause,
A deeper truth does swell.
When I feed the hungry a morsel of rice,
Peace visits me, pure and deep—
In their grateful smiles, I discover
A joy that makes my spirit leap.
And still, so much remains unknown—
Mysteries waiting to be unfurled,
To gaze into another’s eyes
And learn the soul of this world.
So little time—
Yet so much left undone!
On the pages of life still remain
Sketches of dreams left to run.
So many promises lost in the mist,
So many hopes quietly withdrew—
Countless paths remain untraveled,
So many sights left out of view.
What still remains—
To behold the world with wide-open eyes,
To truly live each fleeting moment,
And feel the joy that never dies.
To roam the lands of dream and wonder
Between the covers of a book,
To feel each journey pulse within,
In every line, in every look.
To drift on lyrics, ride the tune,
Let the soul rise and explore—
Unfurl the wings of thought and feeling,
To touch the sky, to soar.
The heart awakens in silent verse,
Where emotions dance and dwell,
In every rhyme and subtle pause,
A deeper truth does swell.
When I feed the hungry a morsel of rice,
Peace visits me, pure and deep—
In their grateful smiles, I discover
A joy that makes my spirit leap.
And still, so much remains unknown—
Mysteries waiting to be unfurled,
To gaze into another’s eyes
And learn the soul of this world.
Two small fists
discover the world
is round, blue,
and fits exactly
between wonder
and wanting.
Mouth opens
the first laboratory,
where everything
must be tested:
texture, temperature,
the taste of curiosity.
Eyes focus,
hands follow,
brain fires tiny
lightning storms of connection:
I can make things happen.
This is how learning begins,
not with books or words,
but with the simple
revolutionary act of reaching,
and grasping,
and bringing
the universe
close enough to understand.
Wonders await return,
Hidden within the pattern,
Concerning your connection,
The outer reflection,
Throughout thought selection.
We seek protection from ourselves,
As we delve into desires,
Dowsing our inner fires,
Mocking all who inquire,
And wish to move higher.
Seeking what they require,
To burn even brighter,
Acquiring a new state of mind,
A sense of peace hard to find,
as patterns grind gears,
Increasing our fears.
As they re appear,
Advancement is here,
As memories start to clear,
They fear my return.
Already feeling the burn,
Yearning for more,
Patterns fall to the floor,
Revealing the door,
I open and explore,
All the wonders I hoped for.
Typecast pivot rips past apart
Scars inflicted by the furnace
Scatter derma with war stars
Astronomy faraway magnifies
Little shards of light filaments
Filtered shadow breaks brittle
Tucked amongst terra, tubers
Crowd needy until seeker turns
Space ahead academy shunned
Parallel gripped group tightens
Outrage stoops, begger’s plight
Entombed below fossilised earth
Dust skull sockets consumed
Grazing on ash grain garbage
Gamma ray gardener unfazed
Leans into lambent movement
Moonbeam harvest penetrates
Microscopic split creates twins
Mind unbound by tribulations
Scales ether, nova knowledge
Constellation inured in growth
Reaches for chaos, apex prime
Shivers bravely beyond Pluto
Fragility faces future undiluted
First of October
Flying Over
When he came back from the war
So much different than before.
He would sit and stare at the wall.
Thinking there was nothing more.
Do you know what I mean.
Because nobody knew what he had seen
When he decided to go to war
Thought that he would just explore.
He kissed her gently and said goodbye.
Promised he’d be back, please don’t cry.
But you know what I mean.
Because nobody knew what he had seen
His wife would remember all the good times they had had.
She’d recall he promised her
He’d be a real good dad
But now none of this will ever be.
When he came back from the war
He didn't need a woman any more
She washed his face and combed his hair.
Only when she had time to spare.
But you know what I mean.
Guess you know what I mean.
Because no one saw what he had seen.
With each passing day, a thought engulfs me--
As to what remained of yesterday would become.
Apparently the curtain moves, even with the morn.
The sun burns, selfless in resolve to better the earth
The buzz heard in silence all around to deliberate life.
Here I am, up and about doing chores, routine work.
The seclusion from daily disdain, practical thought
Prepares me every day for something new to happen.
All at once, thunder and lightning strikes to move, to touch
The very essence of the desire to wish for something new.
Every human is born to touch, to serve, to be, to create.
Newness lies in remembering to explore, the self.
We’d go exploring along the river and through the woods,
We’d run, and we’d whoop, then go silently to try and see a rabbit if we could.
We’d push through all the briar and the bramble,
Then chase each other in one big scramble.
We’d get covered in mud and was soaking wet,
Then we’d try to hide from other people, those that we didn’t want to meet.
We’d be out there all day and we would drink from a sparking stream,
We’d still be there as it got dark, but we knew when to go, it was when we heard our mum scream out, IT’s TIME FOR TEA!!
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