through tulipwood horizon his humming extract ruby arillate stillness
you always brandish serious caring of our misdirection
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 24–30, 2026)
Beyond the boundaries of life and death,
My friend forever, you have positioned yourself
In the sublime horizon of my heart.
Your majestic shrine glows with a light,
With what a profound hope and immense delight,
I extend my arms to the powerful expanse.
The quiet night has embraced and draped
Your feet with her sprawling dark hair,
How enchanting is the song the universe is immersed in!
Emanating from the strings of your veena,
The world becomes one with the tune of your music,
I feel a tinge of melancholy emitted by the sadness of the melody.
Sand grains sliding thru my hands,
sparkling down mid air as bright dust.
Grainy, gritty, rough blossom on my palm,
so long ago, its youth so swiftly spun.
Now individual part by part,
sinking sub-horizon toward a dropping sun.
Moving back to its big liquid starting point,
a washing tidal flow impacts a matching coast.
This dynamic fluid world calls it custom,
joining a vast aquatic host.
My heart ever palpitating at raw memories
of a promise buried in the sands of time
while life goes on in its many shades of dusk.
Ghosted by the vague recollection of a distant daydream,
the heartbeat pregnant still with a glimmer of hope,
the remnant murmur stranded on a forgotten beach.
AP: 1st place 2026
Two hearts awaken to a single song,
A quiet promise they have known all along.
No borrowed dream, no passing fire—
Only the gentle rise of shared desire.
They move as rivers meeting at the sea,
Each finding more in what the other sees.
Not copies, but reflections softly cast,
Two souls embracing future, present, past.
Their love unfolds like blossoms after rain,
Growing stronger through both joy and pain.
Within its shade, no fear can take its place;
Only truth, and tenderness, and grace.
When silence falls, their eyes still speak,
A language only faithful hearts can keep.
Hand in hand, through every changing season,
They find in one another every reason.
So let the stars bear witness from above:
The strongest hearts are shaped by quiet love.
Two kindred spirits, timeless and free,
Writing forever what love was meant to be
Vault
tangerine entranced
dazzle daze delight
visionary bard inspired by
vista
Horizon
crimson red
dream paint sketch
brushstroke maestro’s gift from
heaven
oh, brother horizon, oh sister sky
a white-tail deer goes padding by
I feel protected by the Great Father today
away from the city, the bustle, the nonsense, the fray
oh, cousin beaver, and sister steer
you are sensed, so probably near
I turn and see a turtle making his way
down the slope of my front yard today
I am surrounded by totems who love me so
If it was night, I would see a raccoon, I know
the trickster fox turns and flips me his tail
I take a sip of my coffee and study my mail
I have had a fine rest, thanks to my sister dreamcatcher
She never lets me down, or my husband Bill Fletcher
We are blessed to be protected by spirits, orbs, and ancestors
Our ideas miraculously intact, no nightmares sequestered
Oh, brother horizon, oh sister sky
we feel so blessed, and thank you both on high
journey through the soul
silent void beyond the stars —
sailing in the dark
Along the horizon, the Swiss Alps rise with a deep calm,
their slopes holding a pale, steady radiance~
not the brilliance of noon,
but the quiet glow of a soul at rest.
The lake below mirrors everything
with a devotion almost holy,
its surface smooth as a held breath,
a silver-blue plane where sky and water
forget their differences.
Trees stand in contemplative ranks,
dark brushstrokes of patience,
as though they’ve spent centuries
listening to the mountain’s slow wisdom
and have learned the art of stillness.
Nothing moves;
yet the whole scene feels alive~
a pulse beneath the silence,
a soft, inward turning of the world
toward its own serene center.
And as the eye lingers,
something in the heart settles too,
as if Hodler painted not a place
but a moment of inner clarity~
With a bright spark in the dusky sky
Slowly the sun rises from the horizon
The sun rays scatter,reaching so high
Washing away the darkness, embracing Kaizen...
Memories of a future that never came to be
Are in bloom even before midday
The beauty of their petals is so perfect
That it seems slightly mocking
The future promises nothing
The petals say, any future
Is no more than a weather forecast
An attempt to peer into events that could not happen
To claim knowledge of them
Efforts to tame the wind
Suffer a well-deserved collapse
Nature does not like know-it-alls
It would rather perish than be known
The same is true
For any individual future
The horizon of expectations
Becomes simply a horizon
With no hint of proximity
To the sea and the sunlit beach.
There’s a blinding light that shines from the sun,
While the moon’s faint glow is veiled, one by one.
Through the years we’ve faced, both heavy and long,
On distant roads, we stayed strong.
You stood with me through life’s every tide,
Through crashing waves, you stayed by my side.
You never let go when trials began,
Still holding the thread with a steady hand.
You’re free to be who you are,
No need to prove, no reaching too far.
I’ll take you as you are, in the colors you wear,
I’ll kiss you and say, “I love you, I swear.”
I’ll always give you space to grow,
And hold out my hand when your spirits are low.
I’m ready to be the one you can lean on,
Your shelter, your strength—your forever home.
Halogen, on horizon shine.
Pinpoint the effect.
Lampshade, made from what we dine?
Ask and you'll get wrecked.
Courtyard of the vizier?
Not quite a good place.
Axeman, getting busier?
Damned is a disgrace.
Yatalite, thy bluish streaks.
Meteoric blast?
Oh, it's been a matter of weeks.
Statue, plaster, cast.
Best of luck, O yammerer.
Blowing at the hole.
Coin toss, then, O stammerer?
Hammerer, dole, pole.
Wicked is the world these days?
Gods, yes, sir. You bet.
Maze, thy path is lost in haze?
Grey is what they'll get.
Rickshaw, running river, reel.
Show them how we feel!
Tornado, spin! Sage, reveal!
Portal, sign the seal!
Golem, gold. Groundhog, billfold.
Windfall, young or old?
Both, O poet. Oversold?
Muse, light, sparks, meld, mold!
Yardarm, keelhauling. Salting!
Sad to hear them sing!
Hornet, wasp, succor with sting?
Drown the ding-a-ling...
driving in a fast car
the wind whipping threw my hair
the pounding of the music in my ears
singing along with the music
pretending I can hear myself
my eyes watering because of the wind'
the road ahead
a silent reminder
that nothing good lasts
that life goes on
that the wind has to stop
the song has to end
why be afraid of it
all songs end
all roads stop
every morning begins anew
every time the sun comes out
it disappears back into the horizon
but the promise of tomorrow
is obsolete
Before I knew the weight of days,
or how the world could bend and strain,
your voice was there—steady and low—
like distant thunder promising rain.
You taught me not in grand displays,
but in the rhythm of your deeds—
how patience grows in quiet soil,
how strength is shaped by tending needs.
Your hands were worn from unseen wars,
from lifting more than I could see—
not just the burdens of the day,
but all you carried quietly for me.
A father’s love is rarely loud,
it does not always seek the stage,
it lives in presence, firm and sure,
a guiding line on every page.
Through every doubt I dared to face,
through every fall, each uncertain start,
you were the map I didn’t know
was folded gently in my heart.
And in the world beyond our home,
in every life that fathers raise,
there echoes something strong and kind
that shapes the future’s unseen ways.
So here’s to you, and those who stand
as roots beneath what we become—
for in your care, both fierce and calm,
the best of who we are is begun.
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