Pain creeped in with the early hours of the morning,
I was doubled over in pain.
As I was screaming,
my dad was wrapping me in a blanket.
Off to the hospital he sped,
then carrying me through the big doors.
My appendix was about to burst open,
emergency surgery was for me.
Built to ease bottled up restlessness,
a reprieve from overheating.
Left frustrated by fleeting,
all of the after hours
are fading so fast.
The bittersweet
summer wind
will not
stay.
The world belongs to those who speak in whispers.
It exists in the soft space between the rain
and the glass, where time slows down
and the loud chaos of the day finally dissolves.
There is a heavy, beautiful peace in the dark.
Like velvet draped over tired thoughts,
the silence does not feel empty;
It feels full of unwritten music and midnight skies.
To exist completely in the quiet
is to know the truest version of oneself.
No masks, no noise, just the gentle hum of existence
waiting out the storm until the dawn.
For this day I shout an enormous hooray
I am meeting my friends to laugh and play
They are seventy-eight and seventy-seven today
As welcoming as most angels in heaven I'd say
I burned twenty-two boxes in my driveway
hot sooty gray and orange ashes were flying my way
I am wearing a green t-shirt with daisies gay
At ten-thirty I have accomplished a lot today!
This was a planned outing; but I did it my way
I got there two hours early; what can I say?
I never could read a clock with numbers gray
I am horrible at numbers, I hate math, okay?
Day begins
with determined light
same as the last—
Night draws quickly
whiling away hours
behind a harsh office desk
~ the sun sets real schedule
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Being away from a person it's quite draining to the mind have the conversations continue to build with answers being revealed with little substance.
The light that once was burning bright within the person is now dwindling to a small flickering flame inside about paper mache candle.
What is love when only one is giving it while the other is demanding more and more of a material world.
Can a heart endure the pain of a person that is only in love with the past and judges the future?
What if they have not come to terms with that past and what judge you in proximity to that person?
Answering these small questions places you into limbo yes it is deadly to go forward without assurance from the other person.
You can be away from the person but still be in limbo.
Give me but some music
- in heavens empty hours -
a piece of song, giddy-paced
and innocence for innocence
I’m a horse that never tires
While a cup of wine
makes light airs
and merry hearts
It too can unyoke the humour of the immature,
“So, wait, you think if you say a few right things
I’ll let you on it?”
Ha! No I won’t
you weak spirit
I see right through you
Oh, I’m not lily-white of hue,
I’m more the colour of blood red roses
But that one there, *pointing*
he relieves my passion
see this ring?
I frisk for him
.
.
Songs for this:
We'll Sing In the Sunshine by Thornbirds
Landslide (feat. Gwyneth Paltrow) - Glee Cast
Snowbird by Rani Arbo & Daisy Mayhem
The night pours slow like velvet wine
Its darkness coils around the vine
I feel weak, I feel broken
I feel like my heart has been ripped open
Counting hours is all I do
I just need to make it through
Can't say how I really feel
When I think about it, it makes me ill
So many words wanting to come out
My head can't work out what it's all about
There's something strange about being manic
Always in a state of panic
Teeth grinding, body tangled
My brain feels like it's being strangled
Feel resentful, don't know why
Feel like I'm waiting to die
No relief, nothing works
How do I lift this curse?
No sleep, doesn't matter
It just adds and makes me madder
Losing grip of reality
I'm at one with my mortality
Waiting for this all to end
Is driving me round the bend
Another poem full of gloom
Hopefully I'll be dead soon
There are no hours
For happiness,
Let’s offer words,
Let’s offer flowers,
Let’s paint our walls
Our blue houses,
Let’s offer words,
Let’s offer colors,
There are no hours
For happiness,
Do you want my heart?
listen to the river.
Il n’y a pas d’heures
Pour le bonheur,
Offrons des mots,
Offrons des fleurs,
Peignons nos murs
Nos maisons bleues,
Offrons des mots,
Offrons des couleurs,
Il n’y a pas d’heures
Pour le bonheur,
Veux tu mon cœur ?
écoute la rivière.
I looked longingly out my window
Even the moon seemed to snub me
The sky exuding gloom and doom
It was going to be a long night
Awake in the stillness of my room
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
In the museum of my kitchen,
I excavate the strata of days,
coffee rings on the counter like tree rings,
each circle marking a morning survived.
The clock on the wall is a liar,
pretending its hands move forward
when really they spiral inward,
tightening like a fist around memory.
I find artifacts everywhere:
a receipt from three years ago,
a shopping list in handwriting
I recognize but can no longer claim as mine.
Time doesn't pass, it accumulates.
It settles like dust in corners,
builds up like plaque on teeth,
layers itself like sediment in stone.
Yesterday exists in geological time:
compressed, fossilized, permanent.
Tomorrow is still vapor, still forming
in the atmosphere above my head.
But today?
Today is the thin line
where excavation meets deposition,
where what I've been becomes
what I'm busy burying.
I am both archaeologist and artefact,
both the digger and the dug,
slowly revealing myself to myself
one careful brushstroke at a time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The clock hand breaks, suspended mid-swing~
a fracture in the air where yesterday
still hums, untouched. You reach, and the moment
folds like origami, a crane of might-have-beens.
Your father’s laugh echoes ahead of you,
already gone. The future is a room
with all its doors ajar. You step through
and find your shadow waiting, older,
holding a ticket back. The present
is the only place you’re never allowed to stay.
Sunday afternoons were for reading
She'd get lost in worlds of fantasy
Of mystery and adventure
She'd escape and let her mind wander
To far corners of the world and beyond
AP: 3rd place 2025
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