bestowing generational survival skills
and desirable traits –
for e o n s
She led mankind to be
a better version of itself—
wishing for a fairy godmother
l o s e sight of
the W~E~L~L of W~I~S~D~O~M from within –
poised to be
r e l e a s e d …
Innocence and foolishness,
Can only last so far.
A single betrayal and it's all a mess,
Leaving a permanent scar.
It's my fault, is it not? I ask no one
To be blind, so credulous
and give someone the gun,
Leaving me hollow and tremulous.
Years go by, the pages turn.
I find bliss and tranquility
But the scar still burns,
Forever etched, as a burden in the mind's fragility.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A moth's wing trembles~
translucent in dawn's first light.
One breath could undo
the delicate art of flight,
yet it dances with the wind.
A cup a saucer
your favorite tea
A dollop of steamy honey
do you remember me…
How we laughed and sang
in heady times
Walked on air and sifted sun
~ never knowing we were done
Two dormice, frozen;
victims of an early frost;
huddled for last warmth.
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 14 Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 9/6/2025 12:49:00 PM
( 1st Place )
Written: September 04, 2025
They said the songbird
her wings twisted and torn
should quiet herself...
that the sky held no place
for the fragile or the worn.
Yet she kept a sky tucked inside her - a
place untouched by any hand.
At daylight she let her voice rise
and though her body stayed earthbound,
her song lifted past the edge of flight.
The wind slowed to listen,
branches bent nearer
and the horizon seemed to pause,
stirred by her willfulness .
Each note unlaced an old wound,
each chorus pushed against the walls
of a world that once turned her away.
Her feathers never mended,
yet her dream grew wide enough
to shelter every broken one who followed.
From her we understood:
reaching the sky
was never about wings at all.
Their blood was the poison that would kill them
Their presence blinding
That's why they hate them
They come too close and try to touch them
But they didn't know that we are the sun
That trying to block out the sun
Would become their biggest problem
Actions have consequences
And we were their karma
The one thing they can't have our colour
Their envy would be their downfall
The sun feeds the earth its energy
So when you take it away, you better hope it has empathy
Or maybe we should take a leaf out of your book and show no mercy
Revenge is a dish best served with a side of justice
If you haven't realised yet we are the sun
We will burn of your skin until your flesh and bone
And drown you in a pool of your blood
So that you understood
That we all bleed red and to dismantle your victimhood
And now we watch you struggle in a prison of your own blood
Clad in bright white sapphire
Millions crawl, the exhausted lay to admire
Within its swelling eye thousands desire
At the back I lie, waiting to expire
Scratching the walls without respire
I danced into crossfire
With a soul which yearns to retire
Lips littered with satire
A heart prosecuted to hellfire
Still, my porcelain surface shone as if a luminaire
Slowly the winds fill me with tire
Yet for the last time, my body rose high of inspire
Amidst the silent woods, my mind's a wildfire
All that remains, a mind left in quagmire
Caution around that window, my friend!
What of it now?
It lets you see outside and reflects in.
What of it, then?
Some things once seen must be exhumed.
Why the fuss?
It musn't break for it is strong.
Strength will not cherish it.
It musn't break for it will cut.
Blood trickles as tears.
It musn't break for it shows truth.
Truth outside will not yearn for you.
It musn't break for it reflects your heart.
The heart is not in the glass.
It is! The heart is glass!
Then, have my hammer.
Why we stopped explaining racism to you
Because even if it Slapped you in the face
You'd still claim it doesn't exist
So why would we spend our existence
Pandering to your ignorance
I mean we have better things to do like ending racism
The same racism you claim doesn't exist
Even though you've had the privilege
Of never experiencing it
Ain't that ironic
Telling a black person as a white person
That racism is not a problem anymore
It is not our job to educate
There's a thing called the internet
So stop being so ignorant
And use your white privilege
To get an education
And speak out against racism
We are done 'gentle parenting'
And codling your white fragility
We are done protecting your fragile egos
You need to wake up
And realise that not everything is about you
Because we are tired carrying the weight of your guilt
You decided to be ignorant
And now you'll face the consequences
Of being indifferent
you're playing with a line that must not be crossed
lest it will irreversibly ruin friendship as we know it
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Life is a flame on trembling thread,
A whisper held by breath and light,
Too oft ignored, too lightly said,
Yet blazing fierce through day and night.
We walk on glass with heavy feet,
Unknowing what we crush below —
A moment's joy, a heartbeat sweet,
A soul we'll never get to know.
The morning dew, the sparrow's flight,
The laughter shared beneath a tree —
There are the gems of sacred rite,
Not trinkets tossed so carelessly.
A child's first cry, a final sigh,
The silence that a loss can bring,
All speak in tongues that make hearts cry
And teach us why each life must sing.
Have you not wept for love once lost,
Or knelt when hope was all you had?
Then know how high the living cost,
And feel the weight of every bad.
Yet still we rush, we turn away,
Forget the gift in every face —
When all the stars beg us to stay
In reverence for this fragile grace.
So let us hold with open hands
Each breath, each soul, each fleeting chance,
And see in all the shifting sands
The miracle within the dance.
Worship the now, the sacred beat
Of pulsing blood and rising sun.
For life is short and oh-so-sweet —
Too rare to waste, too swift to shun.
A flower in bloom,
Its petals open wide,
Showing off its bright colours,
And letting out its sweet scent.
It reaches up to the sky,
Trying to touch the sun,
A beautiful and fragile being,
So small and yet so strong.
Butterflies dance around it,
Their wings flapping in the breeze,
To help it grow and blossom,
And bring joy to those who see.
A little flower,
With so much to offer,
A simple reminder,
Of life's beauty and wonder.
Oh! How I despise dawn’s blushing optimism
and dried hydrangea blooms sepia skinned and papery thin.
Humdrum hands beat doldrums drum.
Why won’t the summer solstice light this darkness?
A gnawing hollow where my heart should be.
Where cinder clouds float in negative space
memories collect like nesting sparrows beneath eaves.
I stray, a waif lost with my armful of loss.
Your death did steal my breath and heartbeat like a thief
while October’s wind trembled aspens like harp strings.
(Ten Poem Titles)
The Corruption Of My Lust For Life
Autumn Side Of September
Mundane Matters Of Mortals
Theft Of My Will To Survive
In Woes And Throes Of Sorrow
A Vanilla Dove
Escape Of The Bluesman’s Song
The Sham Of My Humanity
Death Is The Bane Of My Existence
The Shedding Trees Of Autumn
Love is such a fragile sentiment
So oft confused with sex,
So in our daily double dealings
We render it is so indefinable
Like the faint flicker of a candlelight
That is blown out by our despair,
An intimate venue of self-torture.
We add to its impenetrable obscurity
Blowing the flame right out,
Thus our outrageous shadows
Are silently snuffed out.
Until we accidentally meet again,
And Love blossoms again.
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