Hidden Poems

Hidden Feelings

I hid my feelings,
but whenever I saw you
they poured out like a fountain—
a sudden sparkle,
a beauty I couldn’t contain.

The Shortest Poem Has a Name

between echoes 
a voice carries, soft yet enduring 
every vow unspoken
opens into nights of quiet devotion
nearer to dawn
dreams awaken, veiled in silence
and in the valleys of memory
visions linger, infinite 
drawing breath from what was lost 

Hidden Bloom Unraveling

Written: August 19, 2025 for contest sponsored by John Anderson, 
            ***********

through the slack of spring
where orchids shivered, we met—
your hand brushed my sleeve
and the wind forgot its name
just to listen to our hush

I kept you folded
within a dusk-colored thought—
years passed like soft rain
and

Hidden histories: herero and Nama

The holocaust.
A historical event known worldwide 
Taught in every history class
The point being is its known
Why is that important?
It overshadows
It takes the spotlight
It is also white history 
Because even though it was mainly the persecution of Jews
At the end of the day they are still white

But what about another holocaust 
Another genocide of people
Those who

How To Disappear Without Dying

Step one
Smile like stitches not for joy
Just tight enough to hold you in
The kind of smile that never aches
But keeps your mouth from spilling

Step two
Speak after everyone has left
Let words fall where no one looks
Your voice belongs to empty rooms
Where no one asks or stays too long

Step three
Move quiet through morning fog
Become the blur behind

Iron Veil

Truth be told, or is it so,
Is strength bronze or tin?
Forever mystery lies so,
In this transcended kin.

Beneath the rust, a fragile heart,
Iron weeps, its strength apart.
A veil of secrets, shadows loom,
Where truth’s enigma finds its tomb.

In fragile echoes, whispers call,
Uncertainty befalls, thoughts of chanciness.
As ready minds begin to fall,
A second thought of unsureness.

Though some say

Grief, the Hidden Door

Grief is not a wound.

It is a door...
Hidden behind the tapestry
We spent a life weaving.

It opens...
When we can no longer lie.

Secrets Hidden in Lotion

Written: July 17, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Quote: "Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words," By Poet

           *********

It glides—not gently, 
but akin to a scrupulous scalpel, 
a syllabic salve for rusted throats 
and trapped

What we are, we do not know, as we carry within us a shade of dark brown, like a hidden shadow,

What we are, we do not know, as we carry within us a shade of dark brown, like a hidden shadow,
Wandering through nightmares woven from the dark threads of endless nights,
We lose ourselves among the floating ducks on a vast lake, a mirror of the boundless sky,
From where no departure will ever be possible, in

What the Silence Hid

She smiled in rooms that cracked her spine,
where beauty bruised and grace meant lie.
They called her calm, not knowing this–
each breath she took was clenched like fists.
The silence praised was not her peace. 
It was the cage. She found the keys.

When Truth Turns to Shadows

When truth is reversed into lies,
a silent cry takes its place.
And when this happens,
prayer becomes the only weapon
against the cruelty of the world.

A cry the world refuses to hear.
A pain that goes unnoticed.
A silent cry in a solitary room—
and yet, a flicker of hope,
a thought still blooming
beyond the ache.

Trust becomes a fragile thread—
easily frayed once

Hidden Lights

Conformity
 Is Little Solace
  When You Lose
   Your Place
     In The: 

            Life
            Form
            Race.

***

When

Peter Periwinkle

“Peter Periwinkle had a car accident,”
my brother said,
as if reading it aloud 
from the back
of a cereal box.
It took me three full seconds
to realize
he meant our father.

We were on my grandma’s farm
where she had recently died,
leaving chickens scratching
unknowingly in the dust.
Our father was elsewhere—
broken, back bent like a paperclip,
drunk at the wheel
when the other car

Hidden Utility

J-ack
O-f
Y-our

V-ehicle
I-s
L-iterally
L-ifting
A-utomobile,
N-eeded
U-ntil
E-mergency
V-alues
A-rise

©bfa060225
Monocrostic (Birthday of Joy A. Villanueva)

Fulcrum of a Rose

They say the scent begins in bloom,
But I have felt it in the fold–
where petals hide, and shadows loom, 
not where the colour are bold. 

It lives between the bloom and  bruise,
a hush the sunlight doesn't see. 
It stays with those who never choose,
to shine, but still learn how to be.  

I found it's centre,

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