[Poet’s Note in Comments Section of Poem ]
two companeros sorting revolutionary literature
in spirit’s gap unwrapping gifts knowing fresh
labour ! sabre cops might have followed us hot
cops never come on Saturdays — they watch rugby* remarks she blithely
work births experience dissolving glib speak
stealthily arrived contingent of state security police stalking
books, pamphlets, writings, ephemera, poems
confiscated not lovingly touched again
never say never self-assured confident
Do you know who I am?
We see each other daily
Your face looking at me
Often wonder what do you see in my reflection?
Do you see only my outer and my inner?
Hope, Fulfill and Determined seems to come out
Being Accomplished, Established and Committed assured
Successful runs through your heart
More than a reflection
Seeing the creation
Up front introduction
Revealing spirit
Open discussion
Own presentation
Mirror Mirror that knows all
You told me and didn’t stall
Mirror Mirror, thank you after all.
On the road key lime, full moon kindling;
Green light deep dark wood graphite;
Before the rain red rock desert prickly pear;
Full moon kindling On the road keylime
8/20/26
long legged sacred
haunch observes
a veneration in Ancient Egypt
speaking beak in Thoth-Hermès hands
first feathers released from Ark
fertility symbol hailed by Moses ~
i remember the day
i saw my belle.
stood before a great glass window
and oh, she was pretty.
young eyes, innocent cheeks,
one little, beautiful heart.
my glass belle,
whole,
smiling right back at me.
carried carefully
everywhere i went.
she's a delicate one, my belle is.
if my belle were simply older,
she would be worn at the edges.
but no -
broken is the little glass doll inside of me.
hurled,
dropped,
hammered.
and now, all that remains are shards.
and yet, i prize every shard.
especially those that make me bleed -
those that will never heal -
i will cherish those for eternity.
.
'twere
uh wink
top wheat
fell'd
'to mine lips
mine
never she'd
think
up here reach
Bald eagles soared to climax
winds following suit
reaching Mother Moon’s orbit
pink-blue wings swirling in space
feathers reach essences dissolving
Love innocent endures —
Breastbones transmuted at
point of no return
we sailed into Void, fluid
zéro apogee in vastness
stoic points absent to
pierce poinsettia
throbbing Hearts
bleed red —
_________________________
Silver Winner Poem
Allpoetry: Sept 26
Form : Brevity
Prompt : apogee
Standing proud on the top of a hill
Is a three legged stone windmill.
A unique structure in plain view
For locals and tourists to admire too.
No longer functioning but looking smart,
This land feature is a work of art
Weathering elements, strong in its place
Welcoming each day with poise and grace.
-------------
Level and Steady
------------------
-Pedal Point Harmony
------------------------
By:Palette Gimbal
The photo would be perfect
something that satifies
the soul. beautifu lEnvironmental Portraiture
one decribed the doings.
rich textures to leather saddles and dusty trails
tilting the camera or drone nose up and down
on the vertical axis to get that perfect
golden hour photo
the low sun light of morning or evening
to satisfy the eyes, my objective is to avoid
curved lines in my image fisheye distortion
are what I am looking to acheive here
All these will be done in first person veiw
than I'll have photos made to capture that perfect image
of a beautiful place these folks
call theres.
Pitch: Tilting the camera or drone nose up and down on the vertical axi
buried dark, daysky
shorn hair from Etain
pedestal opens
now walking eggshells
none will see her fall
welcome midnight
her profile's dab
with missing light —
phantasmic yolk.
foggy pane
more a face
watches glass;
half there
oval
pitch
They say that you’re beautiful.
Gorgeous, pretty, even stunning
You brush it off, move on, it’s rather pitiful,
But it’s just another day… and you’ll keep running
They call you attractive, alluring and a knockout
You ignore it, compliment them instead and hope they don’t prod
It’s easier to tell a truth than to respond to a lie, no doubt?
You hide behind the jokes, the laughter, the facade
Just take the compliment they say, why is it so hard?
If they knew what it would mean they’d turn tail and run
For you to accept it, you’d have to be unscarred
Accept it you will, but that’s it, game over, let it all come undone
They’ll see through the hiding, the running and the fright,
The self-criticism, the comparisons, all the backlash
But when they look a little harder they’ll notice the light
A glowing ember that lies beneath all the ash
Let the mask fall away and the walls break
down,
The confidence, the hope, you’re starting to remember
They’re all waiting outside, you’re no longer bound
We’ve been here all along, your army of defenders
I am who I am despite what has happened to me.
I am not defined by the wounds I carry.
The mind has
its own bleak landscapes
that freeze the will,
confine the soul
to an inner space
no larger than the self.
I know such worlds
of ice - dark ones
that press against
the window and give
no light. I am familiar
with the howl
of its bitter winds
that pick at every crack
as if trying to get in.
I have felt
its icy grip tighten
almost to the point
where I could not
draw a breath.
I know too
of other places
in the mind, deeper ones
that plumb almost
to its source
and summon landscapes
of an inner calm where
there are trees,
wide undulating plains
and rivers winding
their glistening way
to the sea. Landscapes
that are drawn
from the sacred,
composed of poetry
and prayer and carry
the faint recollections
of a somewhere
not far and yet,
a lifetime away.
The frantic traveller treads miles in vain,
Wraps endless skies as if his bliss to find,
And yet, there’s no end to his ceaseless pain
Till he leaves all the outer storms behind.
The bird that hunted on his happy bough,
Now folds its weary wings to seek the nest,
Forgetting what was sought, and where, and how,
To simply settle in a state of rest.
The fleeting fire that mocked against cold night,
Dissolves before the truth of rising sun,
The inner space lit with newly dawned light,
Where seeker and the sought at last are one.
No longer searching ‘everywhere, eyes shut’,
And boundless truth is found inside the hut.
_________________________________
Reflections | 32.08.2026 | grief, fire, image, life, search, winter, Sonnet
Two Ditties
I Favour ‘Farewell’ Protest
I hate good-byes. Place your hand
There is nothing good across your face,
in them. with palm smothering
They are too permanent. your nose and mouth, and
Ominous par excellence. fingers bars across your eyes.
I said good-bye
to a friend once, You can almost hear
never saw him twice. your pulse protest:
“Can I live like this
No, there is nothing good forever?”
in a good-bye.
I favour
farewell.
Acknowledging with a nodding head
Beautiful hibiscus and its bugle
Coming in the close embrace of
Drops of early autumn downpour
Euphoria of the innovative union
Flood of delight on the dawn's face
30 August 2026
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