My father was not made of thunder,
though storms seemed to know his name—
he moved through life like steady weather
that never needed praise or claim.
He taught me time is not a rival,
but something you can learn to hold,
in quiet mornings, patient evenings,
in stories half-retold, half-bold.
His love was never loud or polished,
no grand display, no shining art—
just showing up, again, unbroken,
a constant beating of the heart.
I learned from him that strength is softer
than all the myths the world repeats—
it lives in listening, in staying,
in choosing kindness when it’s least.
And in the wider world he echoes
through every father, near and far,
who shapes a child without applause,
who helps them know just who they are.
For cities rise on unseen tending,
on hands that guide but do not own,
on fathers who plant future forests
whose shade they’ll never sit beneath alone.
So here’s to him, and all his quiet
and all the ways he’s made me see:
that love, when steady as his footsteps,
becomes what carries history.
Today I’m grateful for understanding…
(and I can talk or write about this at length)
that the gentleness of our spirit
will always be…our greatest strength.
I radiate my inner glow—
like a well-polished precious jewel,
pleasing to see, with graceful height.
My handsomeness: a masterpiece of art,
driven by keenness to shed excess fat,
yet I still stand out like a star in the crowd.
My eyes radiate warmth that melts ice—
as deep and mysterious as a star-filled sky.
My smile, a gentle breeze—
a radiance that brightens all days.
Gentle as sleep, yet fierce as a lion,
depending on how you perceive my calm.
But I am a true gentleman—
like weather: mostly mild, sometimes stormy,
yet with a heart of gold,
veins of its worth hidden underground,
bringing forth joy like sunlight when unearthed.
The glory of my gentleness spreads wide—like wildfire,
yet remains near enough to be felt and tasted.
After all, the proof of the pudding is in the eating.
Sharp as a whip, with a lightning-quick mind—
bright as day, as sly as a fox,
a tower of knowledge
filled to the brim with real wisdom.
Every day, fire burns inside me near my heart of gold,
bringing forth brilliant ideas...
like a burning torch
illuminating every dark corner of ignorance.
Just be my friend and experience the wisdom I represent.
“as we passed her she did wilt
which caused in us sense of guilt
since our stance perhaps did cause
to put her heart’s joy on pause
though we’re gentle, not hostile
we diminished her soul’s smile
since our aura as she viewed
scent of love did not exude”
We did not mean to bring a winter wind
into her garden, nor did we intend
our shadows to stretch and smother bloom--
but silence, it seems, wore the shape of doom.
Her petals trembled, not from scorn,
but from the ache of being unseen.
A smile is a fragile thing--like frost
it vanishes at the cost of pause.
Next time, we will carry light in our walk,
learn to speak warmth without talk,
and sow gentleness not just in word,
but in every space where love is heard.
We will not stand--
we will kneel when beauty bends,
so no heart must shrink
beneath the weight of our unawareness again.
roar of lioness
placated with tenderness
taming of the shrew
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
touch her
as you touch a flower,
gentleness,
like the sun's rays
when touches the earth,
warming it up
after a cold night.
Like a young heart, the sun outshines,
flirting with the billows of clouds,
leaving a gentle kiss on the blushing horizon.
Cry of mucking gulls above,
visit the no longer alone, white laced-topped waves;
its bounty full, a romantic love with morning gone.
A tern with its black hat,
near goldenrod, scattered in heaps,
pecks on the length of the treasures of the beach.
The tuneful sound of the spring ocean surf,
rolls in, touches my toes in a tease,
then runs away giggling, but not for long.
Once again it rolls to chase me for a nip at my toes.
4/12/2022
"May I sleep under your emerald-umber arms in serenity of your cover." quote _by Poet
Titillating gently does the breeze move
Through pink cherry blossoms, brought fragrance Spring's best
Pastel weeds lull and swept away, rise, mingle, and bend,
Flourish and grow beauties, and an expression often quite profound
The pensive wandering clear river flows
surrounded by a throng of admirable melodic trees and underbrush
Creating an aura of love, even the hardest of rocks
White herons fly through and nest on the river’s shoulders
A peace and sleep will come to yield
Beavers gnawing through vegetation building dams
As the night starts to creep up with stealthy footsteps
Concealing the tiredness of the anxious waiting light blue sky
Graying clouds nudge the crescent moon
Light streams though darken shadows of the trees
7/16/2021
Writing Prompt - Fragmented Spaces Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
emerald-umber= umbrella
A HAPPY MAN
A
happy
man is one who
lives in the present hour.
Brimming with pure gentleness and
with a splash of acceptance, letting go
create miracles and is in
complete
bliss
8 th PLACE
DATED:27.06.2021
CONTEST: RING MY BELL
SPONSOR: JOHN ANDERSON
All the cold words gather
In the memory of a movement;
Where a grinning waits to be upon the face;
Where mirrors touch their kiss
To everything, that anyone would miss.
While we all wish that we could be awake,
Or sleep until all days and nights
Fall far more softly into each.
Like a curtain, we are certain
We know the separation
Without which there could be no journey,
For us to force our way into.
We conceive the stain,
Before the berry
Touches wind or rain:
And then,
There is movement again.
With the gentleness of a dove
you made me what I would be.
Softly, quietly you used love
from my past to set me free.
I did not know of your design.
It was subtle, sweet, tender.
But my soul it did surely find
and all my faults surrender.
A day came when I was new,
I scarce could understand why.
But now I know sweet, gentle you
found me worthy of a try.
The water is deep
Going forward is worrisome
A bridge would ease the strain
Life could be gentler then
Energy spent is a reserve
Soon it will run out
Life will float a bit
But only for a time
Beyond hope I have built courage
Restoration of faith will be my raft
Oars of perseverance will paddle me
Inspirations will fuel my challenge
That bridge is nowhere in sight
Perhaps my prayers were not taken
Am bewildered without a response
Let alone an empty feeling of abandonment
Without notice light has shown from above
which has illuminated that bridge
that would carry me across high waters
to the shores where life is gentler
Honeybees circle,
Girl sleeps beneath... soft breaths
They will not sting her
a single kindness -- warms a mighty weary heart
light sprinkles
in young sleepy eyes
~ whispers of moondust
AP: 3rd place 2021
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