By Poet.... "Haven hide me safe and sound. Far away from this cruel world. Give me peace of mind and body."
The story of my haven,
as I ran from the huge raven.
Was I living in a cave-in?
Life's pictures have been hung with a cloth pin.
The huge raven represents life,
the cave-in represents midlife.
Where did life go?
Time had no flow,
no more glow.
All the time I was low,
I just wanted to live and to grow.
Hiding in my safe haven covered with snow,
I now watch TV and a new game show.
There are people who've died.' Buried yet not gone, they cry out for justice, loud and
Long..Rik Mayal, JFK, Bob Marley, Diana too, Virginia, Stan Meyer, the covid co-horts Do.' Those who were slaughtered in Germany 1940 on through' today in Gaza
Now what say you.? You munitions makers, you in IBM.' you in hugo boss, and
Ikea all you ss friends.' Mad about ( oak leaves) and forest gods, there are groves for killing, by thosecwho consider thay are gods,.? But the dead are many.' And they
Cry out loud; and long' they are heard
By the God; of all. He's never been blind all
Along.' Yes you put a bag on His Head; in such ( you announced to all ) just who you
Are.' So much was saud' Thats how you will fall, blind leaders all
Stumbling to when the ( moment blinks!) In the eye of eternity ' you will wear the (hood-wink) you satanic servers..You serve satan, yet you he also hates, there is a
Place for you waiting' the latest hell in great flame gyrates.' A vortex of lonliness where eternal winds, will shred your ever-being..As your former victims realise Their true Word.'
We
Spin the stories
Which connect
Appearances
Hiding
Or not hiding
From bathroom pipes, kitchen sinks
From inside cabinets, drain and sewer points
The cockroach approaches in a flash of time.
Once sighted, woman gets scared and yelp
A chance for the brave husband to help
And to flaunt his bravery and might.
Seizes the broom sitting at the corner
When the brave man comes with the broom
The sly cockroach is already lost from sight
The brave man hits at every nook and corner
Misses the target, and the mission to kill, fails
Leaves his wife in utter despair and anger.
Finds the pest below the cot and hits it hard
The cockroach struggled but did not die
Broom snaps, pest flees without a trace
Nastiest pest, nocturnal in habit
The insect at its best at night
Rarely surfaces in broad daylight
Finds escape routes to hide from sight.
The insect loves and lives in grime and filth
Ill at ease in open space and broad daylight
Always in hiding and retreating to dark
Pale tan , reddish brown, glossy dark to black
Shades of repulsive colours, gross to look
Notorious for infestations and spreads diseases
Now hogging limelight in media discourse.
Truth
is invisible
Its effects
are not
To know it
to live it
Like the wife
of Lot
It hides
in plain sight
In judgment
per se
The air
that’s inside us
Life’s breath
— of our stay
(Dreamsleep: August, 2026)
While I hide in the shadows
I tell you “Your scars are beautiful” yet
I wear the last name SCHNADELBACH like an old ugly scar around my neck
You tell me don’t write anything using that name
So, I hide my work, the very identity of who I am.
I go to church,
yet they tell me that I am out of alignment, to make a choice,
So, I did
I walked away from man’ religious laws.
Then I am asked “why are you hiding?”
It seems like the very moment I stick my head up
I get kicked to the curb.
But God does not live in their alignment.
He is here, in the dust on the pavement,
Holding the pen they tried to break.
They see an ugly scar;
I see the skin, the face, the heart that healed.
I will stop hiding.
My name is a story, and it is time I write the ending.
I act like I'm sleeping
My father shouts,
And I hear my mother's weeping.
Mama shouts at Daddy loudly,
I watch through a pinhole sadly.
They care for me like a treasure,
But I don't know why they still haven't changed.
Sometimes my mother locks the doors,
While my father loudly knocks on them.
With an innocent face,
I saw them in tears.
Those incidents are still
In my heart like scars.
Sometimes I feel desperate,
But I have a little brother.
So I try to make him feel better.
The pain in my heart is so heavy,
But I don't know how to say it boldly.
I tell him stories and make him sleepy.
I watched the stars to hide my scars,
Because he doesn't need to carry those scars.
The hope in my head starts to drown
The clock ticks fast, but I’m slowing down—
Why am I a side character in my own story
Why do my own interests now bore me
Silence is where I constantly sit
I’m happier there than I’d like to admit,
I talk to myself, but I don’t hear me,
Just a voice on repeat, endlessly
The thoughts pull me out of my body—making me see how tragic I look.
It traps me there, like a fish on a hook.
I’ve slipped out before, but just for a breath
“I’ll escape soon” I wish I knew the depth
Inside all I want is to be free
But I wear a mask for no one to see
Only I can’t cover up my obvious reveal
Because even my eyes won’t lie for me
perched up on a limb
blue heron hides from people
watching in disguise
is more fun than Easter,
for me.
I teach at
a Quaker school
and today was warm
and sunny
and perfect
for hiding easter eggs
in the long grass
and behind the benches
in the courtyard
outside the meeting house
where we go for Friday
morning meetings.
This Thursday
was the last day
before spring break
and we met
in the gym, instead.
I finished hiding the eggs
while I sweated
under the sun
on an 82 degree
late morning
in early April.
I was happy
in not taking
a single egg
for myself.
I hid a dozen
in the empty fountain,
two and three
tucked in little corners
of shade and sun,
and I tried to cover
the colorful ones
in the long, growing
grass.
Watching four
and five-year-olds
search desperately
and competitively
for eggs,
filled my heart
with gold, today.
One boy, a smart boy
didn't look for eggs.
He was too busy
finding dandelions
and pointing out
fire berries.
That boy
made my heart sing
today.
Hiding himself away
For this unbettered cause.
To draw out what, more timid
Does in its own truth live.
Expression of soul. Through bard's
Conjuring, creative.
Seen as odd, now it seems
More occult, in this trick!
By whom no finer tingle
For receptivity
Crave but shock; its spectacle.
Who but live outwardly.
It's getting dark
Still I can see,
As I embark
On this journey
Take me where you will, I say
Take me where you will,
It's best I do not stay
Behind this lowly hill
The moon resides there
On the other side,
Beaming light so fair
Away from where I hide
The stars, they drop
As I look their way,
About the hilltop
And still... I stay
On this journey
As I embark,
Still I can see
It's getting dark.
There
seems the
imprinting of
circumstance
on the individual
hiding completion~
completion appearing
as circumstance~~
Fake news is the rage.
Politics ain't what it used to be.
Was it just better disguised?
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
I stared at my adults
what else were they going to pull on me?
Mom is leaving.
I am staying with dad.
Mom is taking the dog.
My only friend?
I stare at them
My thoughts are incredulous
I thought we were a happy family
Mom is moving in with Larry?
Charlotte is moving in here with her cat?
I hate cats.
I continue to stare
hiding my disappointment
the entire thing seems implausible
and stupid
And these are my parents?
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