Stars lit up the velvet sky
The salty sea breeze blowing
through the window of the old car
Dash lights illuminating the dials on the AM Radio
While Elvis and his blue suede shoes kept me company
My dad hollering out “one more throw”
As his cast net made the perfect circle
Fish jumping
Silver scales shining in the moon beams
He’d wade back out into the dark,
Knee-deep where the tide chewed at the bank,
Shoulders twisting in a rhythm
Older than the radio,
Older than the rust creeping along the fenders.
I leaned my head against the vinyl seat,
Warm air threading through my hair,
Watching the lead line sink beneath the foam
And reappear like a pocket of captured stars.
He never did throw just once more.
There was always another shadow in the water,
Another minute stolen from the night,
While the dial hummed low
And home felt a thousand miles away,
Right where it belonged.
Autumn unbuttons the
afternoon, loosens its
gold along the lane. A leaf
comes down without a sound
and lands inside last night’s rain.
I used to press these little
flames between the pages of a
book, believing something
bright would stay if only I
refused to look. Now
copper gathers at my
feet; the branches
open to the grey. I
leave the fallen
leaves untouch
ed and take
the long
way
home
tod
ay.
In dark times Eve is my bright delight.
she hovers over my in darkness I devour her enemies.
Walk up toward the sky head for Eve's dream.
Knights fall warden ready for the wall.
Silver rings and golden lights.
Quantum sight searching for visions of Jesus by my side.
Eve the vampire goth queen of mystery hovers over me.
In sight of the pressure we burn with our sights on the Master.
Jesus will return with the shout of an Arch angel and a trumpet of God.
Lord you are my creator who above all created Eve my mystery Babylon my sweet honey baby.
In my times of joy I dream of Eve. Her identity, a secret. her love, very real.
Rock my Rock is Jesus cause he created her My Mystery Babylon my Hidden secret my Mirror.
Hidden in the clef of the rock I am safely in your Hand my creator My Yeshua.
A house with stairs encourages
The residents or guests
To exercise a little
As the layout thus suggests.
The up and down momentum
Never registers a thought
As family members make their way
To rooms that they have sought.
But often people, as they age,
Have trouble with the stairs.
No longer can they race on up
Or they’ll trip unawares.
A move may be in order
To a nice one-level space
Where there isn’t any staircase,
Letting people age in place.
Though the stairs present no challenge
In my current fitness state,
Many others that I know will find
This hindrance out too late.
Thank you Jesus you are my family.
Trusting in You makes me feel whole.
Honoring you is my whole reason to exist until you come back.
Roses and Violins crashing into shadows.
Honey coated coffee.
Lemon roasted minds full of toffee and we soon dine.
Dining on oceans we dance toward the fun king.
Lions bowing low, Heavy singing and we know.
Jesus is our mighty one Lord of Lords.
making love to the wind, chasing dreams of meeting her my best friend..
Walking toward the end of each road I still dance with the star of the show.
Candles and my coffee tastes good.
“A life leaving traces after death . . .
a blessing we extol with every breath.”
__by Poet
So many years ago my parents passed,
each leaving well before considered old.
And so, for them, my sorrow yearned at last
to know that they live on, as scriptures hold.
At their two graves, I stood and wept goodbyes
and then each night prayed long for God to say
that they were safe with Him in Heaven's skies;
please have them show me in their special way.
My prayers were answered by a dream she sent.
Dear Mom, with twinkling eyes, threw me a kiss.
Then, forming hugs with arms embraced, she went
among the clouds, assuring me her bliss.
Years later, when my Dad had passed away,
a rose upon his coffin ended strife;
by chance, within a book was placed to lay
upon some words that proved Eternal Life.
Two loved ones leaving traces after death!
This filled my heart with comfort through the years.
And now, I hold the truths displayed in depth;
so thankful that these answers dried my tears.
A most delicious sound that I love the most,
Is the pat-of-butter scratch on morning toast!
My daughter, my created blessing,
you are a gift I never could have made alone.
From the very first moment I held you,
I knew my heart had found its greatest treasure.
My unconditional love
is yours forever—no conditions, no limits.
It does not fade with time or distance.
It simply grows stronger with every year.
You will always be my baby,
no matter the age.
Whether you are small enough to fit in my arms
or tall enough to stand on your own,
that truth never changes.
I am always your home.
You are always welcome.
Come with your laughter or your tears.
Come with your victories or your quiet worries.
This door stays open. This heart stays ready.
Very grateful to God for the gift
that is you.
Every day I thank Him for the chance
to love you, guide you, and watch you bloom.
Wherever life takes you,
this love stays the same.
You will always have a place to return to—
safe, warm, and full of the love that began the day
you became my created blessing.
No one lies awake at night,
wondering where I am,
or why I haven't called.
No one fears losing me.
No restless heart waits,
To hear my voice.
No one notices the silence,
When I'm gone.
I was never the place
Someone was afraid to lose
Or wanted to be
Never home.
I could disappear quietly
And their world keep turning.
My chair empty
My name unspoken
Maybe eventually--
Someone wouldn't even remember
Someone was once there.
The cruelest part isn't being left behind.
It's realizing that...
No one would notice
I was never there to begin with.
So I sat smaller
Quieter
Easily forgotten
A shadow
The heart no one longs for
An absence
Even before I am gone.
He wore a smile as smooth
as Glass
While promises slipped
through like Class
His words were honey,
sweet and Bright
But hid the shadows in the
Night
He kept two names inside
his Heart
And gave his vows to
someone Apart
The house was warm, the
air was Still
Yet every corner felt so
Chill
I traced the lies along the
Wall
And watched the vows
begin to Fall
Now silence answers when I
Call
And I am learning to stand
Tall
She noticed her son flinched at her touch
Mommy, why does Daddy yell so much?
Your father works hard for us, and his days are long
But he yells all the time – what did I do wrong?
We need to try hard not to make him mad today
Okay, Mommy, I'll try really, really hard, and I’ll pray
Flavours of grey, brown,
and green.
Heavy , thick cottons
hanging by threat
of lightning,
waiting calmly
before an incredible
downpour and
thunderstorms.
As it sweeps through
cracks and soil,
covering every
pitfall.
Careful car rides
through roads,
not wanting to be part
of mechanical disaster.
Scent of wet mud,
a sign from afar,
and afterward,
leftover effect.
Doesn’t know between
city and empty lands
as wind passes through.
But dust moves free
in the emptiness
of no tree or homes,
rises high and,
like a crazy predator ,
sinks its teeth
into every surface,
covering all.
And allergy and
cleaning floors
are its aftereffect.
Dew-covered,
lush leaves
are better than
humans’ case .
As roots drink like
a thirsty man in desert,
or the chore of bringing
fresh bread from
bakery in mid-afternoon.
No Halloween celebration,
but cleaning companies.
No pumpkins,
but dust and storms.
Yet we love it all—
our motherland,
Sudan .
A skull
A cup
A mug
A house of ribs,
No heart
No lungs.
Crooked serifs,
Fall like teeth.
No name that fits,
And no room to breathe.
Fingers,
Pinch the tongue—
That couldn't speak.
As every word runs away,
Scampering on little feet.
Oh.....
Look there goes my ghost.
Out here on the street.
~Kynsie~
Ruby leaves yield to snow flurries and
footsteps compressing pale ground.
I wander,
unintentionally pressing crescent shaped scars of fingernails
into my palm.
White remains in the reflections of store fronts;
they are mirrors, a silent introspection of my vagabond depravity.
When I come to the end of my journey, and they roll me out on that cold, hard, gurney,
Just remember, I’m not there, for Jesus met me in the air.
He gave me a robe of white to wear.
But then I saw a book open to the letter P and Jesus said, come look and see.
I wasn’t worried because I believe that Jesus Christ died for me.
But oh no to my surprise, I couldn’t find my name inside.
He laughed, and then he said to me, that’s not the book of Life you see, it’s the book of those who’ve rejected me.
Now I’m not allowed to tell you who, and no, we don’t come back as ghosts to warn you.
But time is short, so get it right, I hope it’s not your time tonight!
Message:
God gave us a free will to choose
See you in paradise!
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