You are red sun in my gray cloudy sky
Cheering me on despite blues in life
I look up and see your beautiful light
From gold glowing soul such a delight
As white wind beneath my brown wing
You carry cranberry heart love inspiring
Your yellow whimsical smile like spring
Give rise to sapphire songbirds that sing
You are as sweet as sap from green tree
Lime cure your laugh defeats melancholy
Moonlight carves path from Black Sea
That is teal tragic past rebirth’s dream
Your heart is a love flower warm opening
Even in rain shower you power positivity
I can look at you for hours inhaling peace
You empower what nectar is to a bee
You're the artist with the pen,
the painter with the brush,
the designer with the colour swatches.
You interpret your dreams,
give rise to your ambition,
create your ideal future.
Your vision crystallizes at will,
draws upon your imagination
to materialize your surroundings.
There may be times of ugliness
when the world seems dark and
intent on dragging you down.
Remember this too shall pass,
renew your closeness with nature
and replenish that innate beauty and joy.
I gaze up into the swoon of night,
forbidden thoughts of you, swallowed by the moon.
An authentic surprise…
A magnetic dimension…
a precarious invention indeed.
Our creed...
Every word...
Every thought freed.
A whole world waiting between,
what I had dreamed…
what I had imagined…
I feel you, sacred, like Tamarind
or Tiger Lily...
Slowly, quietly, absolutely!
You appear, here…
A home that’s been waiting in my heart,
debating this art now on display,
Just an array of sunrays in every way.
Rekindled intention of a love dimension.
Oh, what an exquisite invention!
As I gaze up into the swoon of night,
The moon so dazzlingly bright.
Your eyes give rise to this sweet kind of wise.
And there, in your eyes, still…
The moon so gloriously full,
As I feel a euphoria of wonderful.
Don’t go, don’t float away this time…
I need your light for my words to take flight,
for the poet to delight...
Set the mind alight...
Forbidden fire...
I cannot write without your desire.
A banana tree bears bunches
of fat yellow legs,
clusters of pendular limbs
known as hands.
Such contradictions
serve to push our minds
out of their crates.
Try not to ponder too much
on fully thawed tarantulas
and small venomous snakes.
Feel free to postulate
how quickly life begins green
by turning yellow,
until seemingly overnight
a mottled jaundice
heralds an unpleasant end.
Most mature bananas bend
in like manner,
and could give rise to thoughts
of Pyrone’s disease.
Banana enlightenment is rare,
some may awaken
clutching at a pulsating plantain
only to have nirvana slip away
as time unpeels
a more humdrum reality.
For best results
potassium yourself daily.
Auguries from your person
Shimmer back into present
Optimism I'm smiling.
As though to look up at you
Shone a rainbow beguiling.
There's prophecy in your voice.
Not in words but undertones
To light feelings that give rise
Even now. As if hearing you
Does Spring's herald exercise.
Light, what a spectrum
Of seven colours in all!
So is life of some
That always shows a shortfall
Of one or two, if not all.
Life's search of the shade
Missing-- if so felt at all,
If not, the life’s made!
___________________
Tanka | 32.10.2025 | life, light, spectrum, shades/colours
Note: ‘Missing, if felt so at all’, this Tanka says. Why? Even just three basic colours can give rise to many shades by combinations. If one feels no shortfall at all, he has made the life, the search ends, the journey ends. He’s liberated.
The Sparrow
by Positive Mark
Torch-burnt quills never offer apology.
Scorched earth policies revive a dead polity.
Force fed intellects give rise to economy.
Those who don’t fit, I advise you to follow me.
First, let’s pay homage to walls that were climbed.
Put in the time, and you’ll shine like Coach Prime.
Kill or be killed at the devil’s insistence.
If you lack fortitude, strike from a distance.
Fiery orators once fit the bill.
Now, they’re a hallowed list of confirmed kills.
Dead at the podium.
Dead on the balcony.
Genocide rhymes have become the new alchemy.
Armies of men show their butt on the street.
Reeks of an old auction, selling Black meat.
Honest comedians cancelled for jokes.
This is the new definition of woke.
Now higher frequency thought has been shattered.
Shirts weren’t printed when Black lives still mattered.
No reparations for cultural rape.
Modern day poets ain’t bustin’ a grape.
Torches on quills that were once burning arrows.
Who watches you, when his eye’s on the sparrow?
Embracing the idea that to "hear no beauty, see no beauty, be no beauty" is to overlook the true essence of a rose. A rose is not merely a flower or a collection of blooming buds; it embodies a profound inner calmness and purity. It serves as a striking representation of a seductive figure, with its ovary dispersing seeds that give rise to future generations of beauty.
This powerful imagery underscores the role of a rose in nurturing life and inspiration. Beauty is not just a superficial attribute; it is a divine promise, a gift from God destined for all women in the land. We must recognize and honor the vibrancy of beauty, as exemplified by the striking "red fluffy mustard rose," which captures the essence of resilience and allure in nature.
Hear no beauty, see no beauty be no beauty
who says man and nature
can never coexist in harmony
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
april brings us
its share of miracles
of life that sprouts
in shades of green
every year the cycle
like clockwork
rejuvenates yet
we are always in awe
spring give rise
to our sense of salvation
and of hope that
we have not been forsaken
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Our lives have known such different ways
Such different ways have we
And yet despite such varied worlds
The same sun helps us see
The teachings of a higher source
So similar of grain
So why then must our names, our skins
Give rise to hate and pain
The meals we set to nourish babes
To blossom healthy lives
Though dished up from a different pan
A common fire thrives
And yes, the love that bears its fruit
To sow its yielding seed
The very same no matter where
In manner and in deed
Our lives have known such different ways
Such different ways have we
So why not share and learn and form
A larger family
blazing fusion
liquid water
tidal forces
three heavenly bodies
give rise to one
No seeds, spinach or carrots around;
no greens, or reds, or oranges found.
Only the smooth sliding elegance
of twosome as one in skating dance.
"Sequined Septuagenarians"
much smoother than fresh-ironed linens.
Golden, gliding glances so well-known,
minute, mellow movements, subtly shown.
A bittersweet moment hangs midair
as dazzling Old Smoothies sway with flair.
Both smoothies are good parcel and part,
but Old Smoothies give rise to the heart.
Blooming beauty like rose in October
That tries to give rise to my dying ember
Regret is like a hot coal in the right hand,
And shuffled quickly to the left, then back again
With fervored reproach giving harsh reprimand
In a heart broken world that no words can soften.
Thus stomach's cruel acids give rise to great pain,
While the brain's daily thoughts are construed in a blur.
Soon friendship is lost when regret makes its gain.
Kick far the hot coal. Let not regret reoccur.
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