Love can sway,
Our focus,
Love surrounds,
Like Our Lord,
Not fair weather folk,
His love is staunch,
Sees us all through,
The journey to faith,
We awaken, renewed
Hope to love,
Full of surprise!
Of love Devine
Now a soured story
Of love regrets that
Storys thyn
Mercy me :my rightous glory
Oh then shall sing of
Love Devine
With to one, ah one sided
Story
Love of Christ, thy a world
Subblined
Generations sing this story
Our Christ has risen from
the grave
Toils I make in all his glory
Some may say I am a
Bittered slave
Rewards from God
In all my glory
My descipns, now
all behave
Jesus , Jesus, Precious Jesus
The rich , the poor all
Behave
Jesus, Jesus, oh Precious Jesus
the miracles , Christ rose
From the grave
Have within thy triumph stories
Glory to thy God Devine
Yet ye speaketh with Satan's
Glory
Oh Folk of Christ might us all
Behave
Jesus, Jesus, ah steadfasted
Glory, victory Christ rose from
the grave
Jesus, Jesus, our triumph and
Glory,
Precious Jesus we all behave!
Oh dove of Christ complete thy story
Mire as I knowest not details
My affords of peace and glory
May off end the peace I seek
Jesus, Jesus of peace and glory
Seek thyn end in peaceful ways!
In the Pabbi Hills,
A couple of decades ago,
A small village called Mayyrr glowed
In the tender night of spring.
From every home, tiny flames flickered,
Like a swarm of fireflies—
Some crowning the upper slopes,
Some resting in the valley below.
The night was alive with gentle chatter,
Elders sharing tales and quiet laughter,
Warmth flowing beside their brass lanterns,
Stories unfolding, softly, like smoke in the air.
Lanterns poured love through their golden flame,
Wicks drawing oil from the reservoir,
As time, silently, drew life from the old folk—
Yet left their warmth, wisdom, and light
Lingering across the hills,
A memory that glows forever.
Vibrant colours dancing on canvas
Maud Lewis delivers the countryside in style
Vivid images with childlike charm
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
In Spain they call it Flamenco
In Portugal it's Fado
It's simple life yet so complex
Heavy but light
Dark but so bright
One can step into a basement or a theatre so large
One can feel overjoyed or supremely depressed
These extremes of emotions are life itself
But perhaps there is that balance when you sit and watch and listen
The click clacking of shoes
The desperate strums of strings
The rhythmic slapping on the cajon
The moans of lost romance
Sip your coffee or Porto vino, or Sangria if you wish
Lose yourself in Iberian folk music
And decide how you want to spend your horas in the dancing abyss
Seal the mountains, the peaks, the city—
The little emperor rides waves like in Shanghai Bund.
In the end, the man who loved beauty became a rifle.
Where is the man-made bathing pool atop that mountain?
The princely courage, allies in accord,
Carried martial genes, shamanic rhythms,
Carried cells of herbs and discipline, anti-entropy.
Like Zhang Xianzhong sinking treasure into the Min River—his final aesthetic.
He believed only in genetic revenge,
Mocking blossoms, young girls, and green plums in May.
Some tradition loved empire but mistook beauty.
It collapsed in his beautiful feed for the kingdom.
A sliver of beauty—madness moved in,
A sprite watered by greed,
Denied by earth and the abyss’s breath.
( Poems by Shifeimi
Translated from Chinese by AI with authorial editing and final approval.)
Anunnaki verses the Nephillians
up next....stay tuned in
action like never before!
Welcome back:
the combatants are in the ring!
A stalling tactiac by
Mussumotto
of the Annunaki.. all while
Vallis destractes
the ref!
Ring announcer two...Geniunus on his part
watch this...
chockblock!
the big guy is down.
Big guy all these guys are
huge!
A.#2.. Huge but this guy right
here can wrestle!
He can Move around in there
like
Bandez the Magnificent
he is one of the best tech wrestlers
active in the pro's
right now.
You don't have to
beleive me just watch!
Bandura is great too!
Chunking foul hook
backdrop!
this guy is specail!
Poseidon’s spear slashed out from the angry waves
A tumultuous monsoon began to gather up the sea
The faerie folk went into hiding
When they saw army of sea cupids
Wonder how long it will take them to see I am a famous poet.
See it is nice to see what other poets are doing to help others.
If you aren't helping as a community then what are you doing?
The answer is nothing, put the pen down, and go be lazy elsewhere.
If you want proof, tombstone, “Say when.”
Or get to work, you all have wasted enough time.
The world is a joke, it is your job to aid in fixing it.
Based on a simple evaluation, Keyword: Slackers.
Now of course you all aren’t poets.
That was just a statement, figured you needed the reminder.
Have you heard of Fisher Folk
Masked and disguised
Often difficult to see
When in front of your very eyes
Some will see through the disguise
Once engaged in conversation
Others will never see a Fisher Folk
Blinded by their manipulation
Fisher Folk do not fish
In waterways of any kind
They only fish in ones psyche
Fishing…. human minds
Fishing information, only for personal gain
Needing constant compliments and praise
This is how Fisher Folk
Spend their devious, “its all about me” days
Also known as “Me People”
And other choice names
Pretending to show interest in you
When ‘Self ‘ is the name of their game
Some will never see a Fisher Folk
Being blinded by their camouflage
Others will see straight through it
Quickly seeing the mind sabotage
Fisher Folk are generally likeable
Often intelligent , charismatic ,smart
Though their interest in others is inauthentic
Not from a genuine or loving heart
Andrew Cooper farmer of the land, of Croyde Devon; in old
England decided he'd plough some fields again? as the sun was shining through the English rain, yet some eco-loonies including a judge? hit him with fines and orders and they don't want to
Want to budge.' O K he remted it to the relic's archialogical
Whatsama-thingammy..Cant deny it' and he took a fee' twenty
Years went past, now surely he can till? again.? At last!! No
Mention of a clause; or legal waiver, .' I'd say to farm again is
His right and favour.' Old England will benefit' the people all
Round need the crops to go into the ground.' A balance is
Great between preservation and farming.' Yet this is an
Imbalance. And most alarming in a time of Brexit and
Challenge of change a nations interest are more relevant
And this injustice must be changed.! Give ear to reality, and
Allow the wheat to grow, as in ww2 the fields need to be sown i am with Andrew.! (the Coope-rman)of Croyde Devon,! may he live long and hale to continue farming that land.!
A wizened boy who lived at seventy-two Oak
Relaxed in his tub with a lemon salt soak
Ate a curly pretzel, downed a harsh throat coke
An honest child who sprang from truthful folk
Dressed himself in a red and yellow super hero cloak
Flew around New York City watching for dangerous smoke
News of his heroism quickly readily broke
Giving some fame to this truthful do-gooder bloke
He saved a young girl who was having a choke
Convinced a teenager to give up a maryjane smoke
Chanted a spell pretty difficult to invoke
Created a talking frog who never could croak
If you meet this wizened boy at seventy-two Oak
Tell him his cousin Moke wants to give him a poke
This is a true story, in absolutely no way a joke
Now that I have shared it, I will go have a soak.
JOHANNES
vermeer
sans peer
REMBRANT
look see
s e l f i e
They said this strange man ate his squirrel:
such a lovely arboreal rodent, a creature that nibbles.
First he eats its legs, then its body,
but omits the heart. That is precious.
What? We do not eat a squirrel?
Boiled, broiled, roasted or raw? With sprinkles?
There are strange people who choose
certain creatures of fur. But never one that gnaws?
And those spirited, spunky sprinkles?
There are strange folk who resist a pitter-patter,
with or without a squirrel, whether it be boiled or broiled,
even roasted or raw - without those sprinkles
and, of course, those spatters.
There are funny folk.
They don’t eat an arboreal gnawer?
And do we think of Gnawer and his ark - with squirrels?
So odd how we ponder
on creatures of fur, with or without
those spirited, spunky sprinkles.
Brains do the oddest of things.
(20 Sep 2024)
Loyal companion carved from a sturdy oak.
This eternal gratitude will never be revoked.
You've been there for me more then
some human folk.
I think I may be in love with you and that is no joke.
Please stay by my side until the day I croak,
if perchance we come upon a very nasty bloke,
I will turn you upside down and give him a poke!
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