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The crow pecks at the moon's reflection~
a hunger older than the river.
Night folds itself into origami,
while the stars whisper
in braille.
pleats and folds
a winged makeover ~
sleight of hands
AP: 3rd place 2025
Time folds inwards,
like paper cranes in cosmic flight.
Time folds inwards—
a twist of clocks in glass-bound wards,
its orbit skewed by quantum might.
We dream in loops by neon light—
Time folds inwards.
folds in a napkin
paper crane come to life
memories of you
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Curves valleys mounds and folds
A sweeping landscape we choose to travel
And enjoy to linger for a time
Whenever we can
To us and our companion
To the High peak of satisfaction
And release mounting tension
In the pleasant valley below
A much-needed vacation
Then it's back to work
Again.
Beneath the folds within the brains
Of some of us exist remains
Of early traumas, tucked away
And if we’re lucky, there they’ll stay.
Yet if we aren’t, they’ll sneak through
And possibly provide a clue
To why some triggers make us snap
As if we’ve stumbled on a trap.
That knowledge, though, won’t be enough
To call that bottled genie’s bluff
For once he’s gone, it’s time to deal
With what his breakout does reveal.
Each fold recalls our first thirteen territories—
The first for the soldier’s life and those they defend.
The second for their hopes of heavenly glories,
And the third fold for when their life comes to an end.
The fourth fold for man’s weakness and God’s guiding hand,
And the fifth is for the country we pay tribute.
The sixth fold for our pledge in united we stand,
And the seventh for the soldiers we distribute.
The eighth fold tells us freedom comes at an expense,
As the ninth reminds us that women are brave too.
The tenth fold is for the father of our defense,
And the eleventh recalls three Gods from Hebrew.
The twelfth fold represents the Holy Trinity,
And the last for trust in God for eternity.
God carved him from his finest cloth.
He gave and gave.
They drank his broth.
Most unaware of what was given,
with blinders on they kept on living.
O hollowing gales,take me to the breathtaking sights
Where dreams abide and love resides
in the ensemble of butterflies
and beautiful summer skies
where morining sparrows narrate the lore of romantic lovers
and sunny spells were followed by scattered showers
you are my queen in both realms
In reality and in my dreams
Where the days are inlets of pleasure
and nights have all the hidden treasure
if love is in the heart
someday it will burst into art
Where the oceans are rising with passion
and the lovers are treated with compassion
As you knocked on my heart
every ounce of my being fell apart
Where hearts are dancing with glee
under the lovely shades of chinar tree
Let me taste different flavours on the tongue
In the folds of green and young
07-02-2022
Because of poverty
My family could only offer an iron
Using burning coal
It looked big, heavy and clumsy
To keep the coal burning hot
I had to fan it with a fancy palm-leaf fan
It took time to iron
To flatten the folds on my dress
To raze the obstacles in my heart
To remove the sorrow in my soul
To gain some confidence and pride in my life
And whenever a shining smooth surface appeared
Before my eyes
I cheered, I applaused
I was overwhelmed with joy
Even though it's only a small success
In those simple and meagre childhood days
Ain't a illusion but reality,
Your stardom, your limelight,
Your rich folks and my shame dress,
My heart begging tears to shed.
Ain't a Jack in box I promise
But a fairy light lost in spotlight,
All you were a short lived fantasy
While December joyed and February weeped.
Ain't a Silhouette but a soulful dream
Of my life's road driven in forest,
But Blind Folds on my glistening light,
Taking steps on pebbles of your life.
For your shining flashy life
On Billboard of my long night,
I'll keep our pictures hidden forever
So you can step in brightest smile.
She took the four corners of her world,
and folded them
into a perfect image of him.
An origami of myopic perception.
Nevertheless, there came a day
when his existence began to annoy her;
when was that? Time buries such moments.
She told herself such feelings were natural;
however, the scales and the fangs,
the forked tail, and the talons
were something else.
Her mother had warned her:
it was never the big things,
each minor irritant was (in reality),
an unresolved murder.
Eventually, she learned to tolerate him;
red wine and dark chocolate helped.
Sun goes down until twilight hours of dawn
under the light of a corner street lamp.
A performance stage, casts, leading me on.
Awestruck audience at the fickle vamp.
Pacing back and forth in high-heels to heat
every wink of the night, vain, among men;
I snap, pop my gum and tap as my feet
meet the pavement again-again-again.
A star, in the oldest known profession
as old as time in cobalt lambent light.
Easily drapery falls, no question
with fascination in an endless night.
Under the folds of satin and night skies,
my Prince Charming forevermore, my prize.
1/17/2019
Poetry Contest: Movie Magic
Sponsored by: Gregory R Barden
Pretty Woman, Julia Roberts
The day folds in on itself
The pictures on the wall remain the same
While faces and feelings begin to change
Time can be a curse to a broken heart
Waiting for the spirit to become a part
Of something bigger than itself
Vanities Visions pale to Wisdom earned
And Faith that’s learned
To look outside itself
Time weaves its stitches into me
As it passes by without a care
But tends to miss one here and there
Revealing little rips and tears
Tiny holes to see right through
But never Exposing a total view
Of the Mind’s Eye
Soulful Silence encompasses me
As
I Unfold into another night.
Dark Earth Folds In The Heart's Red Bloom
You and I and all we do
Know not, til our hearts are through
The press of life, what things we be
Root or leaves or shade of tree.
You and I and all we seem
May be but as a drift of dream
In the eyes of One who gave
Self to love and love to save,-
Yea, all the deeds that men have wrought
Mere flower of dream, flame of thought,
Break of waves on a drear shore,
Scent of the wild rose on the moor.
Yet we have seen, and hold it sure,
That out of shame come forth the pure;
Dark earth folds in the heart's red bloom;
In vain, we build the soul a tomb.
R.J. Lindley
1976 or 77 ?
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