Julius Caesar hastened a decline in liberty
Roman rights abridged, from a partial democracy.
A leader can come in, and single handed attack
The freedoms people had, not easy to get back.
Germany was a democracy under Weimar
Then Hitler came in, they followed his star
Mussolini dismantled freedoms Italy had
Democracy is easy to lose, and that's sad.
Nicaragua was a democracy, then voted in Ortega
He said no more voting until we reach the planet Vega.
Venezuela voted in a populist red:
Now people shiver when secret police tread.
Turkey was free until Erdogan moved.
He jailed journalists, judges too.
It is like roach motel, no doubt.
You can check in to dictatorship, but you can't check out.
Some leaders won just enough of the vote
Some took a while to don the dictator coat.
But freedom is apparently not immune
to a strong leader sweeping it off with a broom.
Churchill was on Democracy's side
But said it's the worst system except for all that were tried.
We have trillions in debt, as far as the eye can see
And immigrants who don't all accept liberty.
So there's pressure to enter Roach Motel
Can we avoid it? Too early to tell.
Golden ribbons stretch as far as the eye can see,
A boundless sea under the sun's gentle light,
Where every stalk of amber wheat sways free,
Unfolding a vision so breathtakingly bright.
The wind comes whispering low from the west,
Tracing soft ripples across the warm, heavy grain,
Turning the quiet soil into a restless crest,
Rolling like oceans over the open plain.
Each gust carves tides through the deep golden hue,
A shimmering swell of honey, brass, and straw,
Rising and falling like waves in the blue,
Holding the heart in a silent, reverent awe.
Above the calm surge, the warm air comes alive,
As jewel-toned dragonflies shimmer and gleam,
While tiny gold midges weave through the hive,
And lacewings float past like a summer day's dream.
High in the canvas of an immaculate sky,
A crisp wedge of swans cuts through the soft white,
In perfect formation, soaring gracefully high,
Shadows drifting over the field in their flight.
Picture-perfect and still, yet endlessly in motion,
The earth paints a masterpiece under the sun—
Where the dry prairie wheat turns into an ocean,
And heaven and harvest are woven as one.
Mystical creatures
dance in the clouds.
As I look up, they gaze smiling down.
Seeing their scales imprinted in the sand.
Along with squiggles drawn with One's hand.
Footprints all around, leading to the waters edge.
X marks the spot where I came to,
by His footprints in the sand.
Swimming in memories of a once forgotten time.
Atlantis my home, dancing in the sea.
Not needing to make sense to anyone
it's in the birds and bees
The wonders of His creations
as far as the eye can see.
sponsor's name- Nette Onclaud
poem title- Thought of Silence
date- 01 june 2026
There is nothing but silence all around,
Even the sense of my own being is lost.
Amidst the trees, perhaps,
life Is searching for you somewhere.
Buried within closed rooms,
desires Are suffocating, just like that.
Having forgotten its own sky,
Every path feels unfamiliar, just like that.
As far as the eye can see,
there is no one, And I... Am
looking for my own self, Just like that.
Is there anything prettier than a sun setting on a lavender field?
The view leaves you wondering where field ends and sky begins.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Above, flowers stir and wake in my presence.
They welcome me home with bright petals.
The sun grows joyous at my return.
Wood added to a fire, it seems to burn brighter.
A warmth born of Hestia's hearth blooms through my chest.
It is a pulse.
A paintbrush - Green spilling through dry grass far as the eye can see.
The sky unburdens itself of rain.
The world is filled with adoration.
Though below,
I know Husband Hades awaits with a comforting chill in his hands.
His arms are open wide.
Even when the sun is blown out like a match,
it gives way to a night, where the quiet restores the body.
Hypnos. Nyx. Morpheus. A restful darkness.
The hearth does not die down.
Fences fall. Stone walls crumble. The fire inside lives on.
Grass, although gone, gives way to the clear, sweet waters of oath-bound Styx.
Ancient. Familiar.
It whispers of my return.
The sky breaks open, weeping until the fields drown in nourishment.
Dark or light,
Winter or spring,
Life or death,
Everywhere Persephone goes,
The hearth only seems to burn brighter.
The wind rustles through the roadside bushes
The spicy scent of the field tickles my nostrils
As far as the eye can see, there is greenery,
low hills, narrow roads,
with cars crawl along, going about their business.
I don't understand where the wind comes from
on such a calm day as today.
I look back at your house
It's exactly the same as in the photograph
Taken years ago, only the ivy
Has perhaps grown too much
on the panel next to the window facing the road.
I feel as if I'm inside that old photograph
Where AI imitates the moving
And the foreground suddenly recedes into the distance
The field and hills disappear beyond the horizon.
Cawing crows fly by
The day draws to a close, the light changes
And slowly fades, like in a theatre
But the curtain hangs motionless
No public enters inside
Today is a bank holiday.
Surfing the Cyber Sea without a life vest
hunting and pecking each key at best
nothing but a gyre of flotsam and jetsam
Charybdis as far as the eye can see
where once all was clean and pristine
now the dreaded AI rules the roost
with spam from unwanted advertisers
to give it an unneeded boost
culprits remaining nameless
hiding behind anonymity
who knows what they have in mind
but open the door and it's for sure
once they're in they'll rob you blind
Britain is known to have ruled the waves
at the height of its happy heyday
a worldwide web with a maritime domain
but come what may all empires fall
yet will this disinformation superhighway remain?
Poetry Through The Storm
Trembling waters.
Oceans between us.
As far as the eye can see.
Waves crashing.
A long voyage with anxiety.
Trust and believe.
Stand still in the storm.
Look past the horizon.
Birds fly past above the lightning.
Poetry through the storm.
High tides towards encouragement.
Writing through a thundercloud.
Humble in the wind.
Stay calm in the raging storm.
Cry no more.
Dawn is near.
Shed no tears.
All raise you up from bondage.
Stand on mountains.
Side by side standing on water.
Write poetry through many colors.
Philippians 2:14
Meadow of clustered flowers
fragrant bouquets of petals
pinks purples yellows whites
~ a delightful extravaganza
Spreading their joy like tentacles
they entice butterflies and bees
while the sun keeps busy
caressing this wild ageless garden
AP: Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
Lavandula
Purple fields.
Lavandula through the meadow.
As far as the eye can see.
Beyond breathtaking.
Above violet skies.
Morado organic shine.
A fragrant herb.
Also an Ametrine stone.
Lavender symbolism, old ways.
Cool breeze, open range.
Relieving stress purplish oils.
Recipe soothing gardens.
Lavender resembling.
Humble, soul searching.
Ramble Through a Birch Forest
the path is straight and narrow
not a rock in the way
birches as far as the eye can see
their trunks, like tall slender
asparagus stalks, reach skyward
their caps, leaves bunched
at the top like celery
I look at their white bark
imagining sweet birch beer
distilled or the sturdy canoes
dug out of tough trunks
I would like to stop
and ponder these things
but I must keep my date
with you
when the sun prepares to set
on a sunflower field that stretches
as far as the eye can see
magic's surely about to happen
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
How far is the east from the west
Is it the line in the middle of your chest
Or the pointed fingers on your right and left
Would accross the ocean divide it best
Our sins are taken the and we are left
A scale awakened that measures a debt
Are lying lips and failing heart
The reason for charity, a form of art
Sins are taken as far as the eye can see
Or are they just making a burdenous plea
What on this scale weighs more than me
It’s when we add a Savior the east and west will be
The glimmering sheen of ambers and golds opulently carpet the floor
For as far as the eye can see, the metallics delicately lace through the lane
Creating crisp autumnal scenes of ethereal imagery captured in time
The magical sight of the glistening stardust, evocative of the cooling of air
The breath taking spectacular; in all of it's glory
A visionary light that comes once in a year
Crystalline pools in the veins of the leaves, tracing the channels where the water once flowed
Fragile fractures, as the parched leaves decay and return to the earth where their magic resumes
A whole year awaits as we patiently pray for the sweet annual return of the stardust on autumn leaves
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