molecules lower into mist
then smoke and screenshots
my nicotine grows from roots
onto tongue into thyroid
deliciously fresh I blow
sprays across crisp lawn
true blue sky sings its songs
massaging through trendy T-shirt
day moves harmonic, stylish
cigar shortens
I’m patient with cameraman
he is late as usual
our canvas is painted
with muted colours of farmlands
organic every morn
let us go for cappuccinos
before work starts in ernest
in coffeeshop we’ll love
ourselves f o r e v e r ~
______________________________
BRONZE WINNER POEM
Allpoetry Imagery Contest
May ‘26
Tearing down the illusions of falsehoods,
My footsteps march forward towards fullness.
The skies seem so obscure beyond the woods;
Afar, the light of love looks luminous.
Trails that were trodden once are now traceless;
I have to toil to till and find my path.
So-journers and wayfarers seem faceless;
My logic lags beyond all human math.
Fields and farmlands are deserted and dry;
Wells I dig within do not quench my thirst.
I stand amidst slippery sands and cry:
Might the journeys stalled in mud be reversed?
When pathless paths attain their cosmic goal,
Does Brahman wake, or blind, the dreaming soul?
The earth holds stories, secrets old trees keep, deep inside, it's true,
?My uncle's farm, where family wisdom feels so real, fresh and new.
?When soil I touch, old memories bloom, like whispers from a cozy room,
?A history carried by the wind, chasing every scary, chilling gloom.
Yet most days, I’m trapped, a pheonix in a cage, waiting to be set free, it's rough,
?Amid the city’s cold concrete, where life feels robotic, dull, and tough.
?Giant towers pierce the sky, like needles, grey and tall, they stand so high, ?So far from nature’s calm, true peace just waits nearby, hearing my soft cry.
Oh, Mother Nature—her strength, unmatched, her will so bright, a guiding star, ?Like farmlands saved from industry’s grip, though they've carried wound from past scar.?
She twist and turns, but never breaks, helping her own firy spirit grow, ?Whispering, “Rise up!” when small and long shadows softly creep and glow,
So clear, cool waters soothe my soul, a peace that will never cease, ?In nature’s arms, my worries fade, my heart at blinds finds pure release.
Beauty within the United States landscape
The aroma with the sense of Freedom
Major Cities with their multitudes
Towns with favor of friendship and welcome
Day and Night with a finished day accomplished
The vast farmlands of agriculture
Enriched heritage full of memory with elegant of golden
Every day observance
America amaze
Born and raised
Standing on solid ground
True America
True Patriot
America where I grew up
My head up and chest out
Full dignity and honor
Assurance on all sides
Reflect and sustain
We the People for the People
Forefather’s history
America’s story
The salute
Orchestra including a flute
Melody and tone streaming in the distance
The vision of Red, White and Blue shines
America’s all
We are America
Turning over in a ruffled bed,
stark red numbers sear 4 a.m. into bloodshot corneas.
Nothing but darkness creeps through threadbare curtains, frozen in place.
A desolate silence becomes deafening, as birdsong no longer crescendos—
what would have been the breaking of dawn.
It's been six years now since our brightest star was thrown out of orbit,
exposing the frozen side of the sun.
No longer does our planet experience the warmth of its radiation,
nor the glow of its solar flares.
Within a fraction of a second, humanity was plunged into an everlasting night.
Temperatures plummeted; mass hysteria was at its peak.
Crops perished within hours to days,
as the new icy tundra eclipsed once-thriving farmlands.
The birth of a perpetual Ice Age was at hand.
Power grids crystallized and snapped.
Cities crumbled; small towns were blotted out,
disappearing off the map, never to be seen again.
Death's gelid hand spared but a few souls—
holed up in a scientific research bunker in the Arctic.
We are but the unlucky few who get to “live” in this glacial purgatory,
wandering aimlessly forevermore.
Once there stood a golden field,
Swaying crops, a farmer's yield.
Morning songs of birds took flight,
Beneath the sky so vast and bright.
The village paths, of dust and stone,
Where children laughed and cattle roamed,
Now paved with tar, so smooth and wide,
Where restless cars and buses glide.
The thatched-roof homes with lantern’s glow,
Replaced by lights in glassy rows.
The banyan tree where elders met,
Now stands alone in cold cement.
The riverbanks where stories flowed,
Now buried deep where buildings grow.
The marketplace of voices loud,
Now lost beneath a concrete crowd.
Yet in the heart of progress’ run,
Echoes of the past still hum.
For roots of earth, though hidden deep,
In memories, they softly keep.
- Phin Jiu
It started some years back,
the farmlands will produce beans instead less the corn
or the farm is now becoming a thing of adoration
or simple fascinating society as per family.
Well, war mongering grew by ninety eight percent
and couldn't linger even for a second- I remember
the gun would look like a knife or fine something- I
remember the sun is anonymous for years.
I remember people often say the end of world is here
or to be frank people would say we love graveyards
instead of offices.
Well, fear has gone from within and around so far,
people would say we don't love our country, we don't
love the world- we just want to live as free place
and do whatever we like to do- after all they would
say achievement is everything.
Ha, that would say I will drink drums of water,
that would say I will eat grasses and fascinate trees,
that would say I am a fat man leader of bats, so vamillion,
so the story went on.......
It started some years back,
the farmlands will produce beans instead less the corn
or the farm is now becoming a thing of adoration
or simple fascinating society as per family.
Well, war mongering grew by ninety eight percent
and couldn't linger even for a second- I remember
the gun would look like a knife or fine something- I
remember the sun is anonymous for years.
I remember people often say the end of world is here
or to be frank people would say we love graveyards
instead of offices.
Well, fear has gone from within and around so far,
people would say we don't love our country, we don't
love the world- we just want to live as free place
and do whatever we like to do- after all they would
say achievement is everything.
Ha, that would say I will drink drums of water,
that would say I will eat grasses and fascinate trees,
that would say I am a fat man leader of bats, so vamillion,
so the story went on.......
Unlike a long and sunny summer day,
Children are not prone to come out and play.
We don't hear the birds singing and having their say.
Crops have been harvested and growers have done their best.
Farmlands are reclining and machinery has been put to rest.
Unless there's a storm, things are programmed to release their stress.
The chill is on, the thrills are subdued, and much of nature is hibernating.
Except for evergreens, trees and vegetation seem to be grieving. Since
The wake of Fall, fowls and butterflies have been leaving. Winds, ice, snow,
and broken power lines are sending many to the slow lane because Winter has
spoken and released her troops of pain. No, it's no secret that Winter, like
every season, compels all creatures both mild and wild to change.
Lots of people were once scattered throughout those farmlands.
But now nearly all those farm hands and sharecroppers are gone.
But in my heart and mind, there's still a live picture of those
communities that once housed treasured and hard-working people.
Once filled with thriving though very poor families, those shot-gun
houses and shanty town shelters are also gone. They now form
a distant but unforgettable memory of my childhood.
Notwithstanding, there remain treasured pieces of property
that warm my heart each time I see them. It's those white-painted
buildings, a few of which are barely standing, refusing to fall.
It's as if they are shouting to me, "I'm Still Here!" I tell you.
But for the sight of those 'Pearls of Great Price', those 'Treasures
hidden in a field', the present rural scene would be unbearable for me.
From the dark shadows of yesterday's changes, challenging changes
whose time had come, those Houses of Worship have survived and
stand tall as beacons of light still shining the light of God.
To The North Pole Of Course (Part Two)
The farmlands, bridges and countrysides woosh by in a rush
then vanish before my eyes at a hundred and twenty six miles per hour.
My mind is traveling at the speed of Donner and Blitzen. It goes through a magical hourglass only to nestle inside a cinnamon scented wagon that is infused with the clanking of fine china cups. A peppery scent of hot chocolate perfumes the air and lands on my palate, sweetly.
While I am being ushered forth into Christmas, I sift through time, backpedaling swifter than Santa's mistletoe kiss.
I hear his rippling laughter and melt like butter.
My extra sensory perception picks up the echoes through the halls of my memory
and I say to myself, " I think I'm going home, to the North Pole of course."
Walking country roads, farmlands, my dreams rouse
Faith blessing those who believe in His grace
Over meadows, past gardens, through the house
Erasing dark with morn’s stirring embrace
Faith blessing those who believe in His grace
Lovely children, we strive to show our worth
Erasing dark with morn’s stirring embrace
Whispers of light gently flow o’er the earth
Lovely children, we strive to show our worth
In our hearts, we’re playing as children should
Whispers of light gently flow o’er the earth
At twilight, stars glowing, we’ll gather wood
In our hearts, we’re playing as children should
Raking the hay has brought joy, not dismay
At twilight, stars glowing, we’ll gather wood
Soon, we’ll eat from gardens like a gourmet
Raking the hay has brought joy, not dismay
Over meadows, past gardens, through the house
Soon, we’ll eat from gardens like a gourmet
Walking country roads, farmlands, my dreams rouse
Finally, he’ll accept the title
He can think of nothing else vital.
No titles physically break down,
His body dying for Royal Gown…
Some feared truths are inconsequential;
Gifts from Satan confidential.
As King, every week true human flesh,
Or, else as king won’t look truly fresh…
So, it’s no time to play the Gentle;
Rather time to take up the mantle:
As Lord, he’ll be eating his fill,
As Head, others shall his farmlands till,
As god: half of the lands on hills;
As king: drastically reduced bills…
“If in life vital is a title
Then, to me, this title is vital
Each word carries a vibration that can affect us. Let's choose uplifting words and create light, magic and miracles in the world.
Stay blessed and take care.
Words have energy
By Michelle Morris
15/12/2022
Words have energy
Words have power
Choose them carefully
Let them flower
Like raindrops
On the parched desert sand
Like the sunshine
On growing farmlands
Let them nourish you
Let them help you grow
Let them uplift you
Let them heal your soul
Speak only love and kindness
To yourself and everyone
For our words have much power
To bless or create division
Words have power
Words have energy
Let's allow them to be magical
And make this world better
© Michelle Morris, 2022
I remember the precious days of my life as a kid
The days of waking eagerly to greet the morning breeze
Where the sun smiled sweetly to greet the decent horizon
The skies were as clear and as fresh as the dawn
Where swimming on the river did not cause a disease
And fishing did not cause a notion of devastation
For everyone knew the bounds of their limits
The laws were adhered to whether statutes or common
Where working on farmlands was just like a hobby
And not much were blinded by the luster of a penny
Where the most precious thing was the purity of the breeze
And everyone revered the sanctity of the trees
Where fishes in the river swam together with the kids
And the cattle and the horses ran freely on the fields
Where the purpose of hunting was only for the needs
And no creature was killed just for merriments
Where the ladies wore a decent fashion
And everyone was dressed right for the occasion
Where every creature shunned exploitation
And no one was shamed just for greedy reason
September 10, 2022
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