I don't know my own strength till i have been challenged
Swerving.
Jerking.
Careening,
from one end of the winding road to the other.
I am in the drivers seat,
but my hands are bound.
He is jerking the wheel,
back and forth,
laughing.
Telling me i can never steer.
I pull at the bindings around my hands,
it is no use.
They are too tight.
I contemplate,
letting him control the car.
Suddenly,
I am in action.
I grip the wheel,
steering,
though still my hands are bound.
I find control,
I take it.
It is mine.
The road twists,
turns.
I turn with it.
I turn the music up,
drowning out his voice.
I bat his hands away from the wheel.
As i listen to the music,
I notice-
his voice is no longer there,
his hands,
no longer fighting for the wheel.
I find peace in the knowing.
That i am in the drivers seat.
My hands,
no longer bound.
My mind,
no longer haunted by his words.
The voice in my head,
for the first time,
mine.
sleepless nights
brilliant stars fight
poetic soul fortitude, forced into servitude
views fade away
quintessence gives way
lShe carries a quiet bravery
beneath the soft rise of her breath—
a tender storm the world never sees,
a flame she shields from the wind of days.
In the hush between her heartbeats,
she gathers the pieces of her hope,
threading them like dawnlight
through the shadows of her doubts.
She does not roar her strength aloud—
it lives in smaller miracles:
the way she rises after falling,
the way she dreams despite the scars,
the way she walks into tomorrow
with trembling steps
that still
move forward.
And if the world ever pauses
long enough to listen,
it will hear the quiet truth of her—
that courage does not always shout;
sometimes it is the soft,
steadfast whisper
that refuses
to disappear.
Maybe you were right all the times,
Silent truths hidden in your rhymes.
Whispers lost in crowded halls,
Echoes fading off the walls.
Nobody saw it that way,
Blind eyes chose to look away.
Judgments made in haste and pride,
Truths dismissed, shoved aside.
But one soul stood, clear and bright,
A steady beacon in the night.
All you needed was a listener's ear,
To hold your words, to keep them near.
I step into my fourth decade
with quiet thoughts for company.
My mother is gone
and though I move through life
shadows brush against me still.
Yet I long to reach the forgotten,
to lift weary hearts,
to lay a quiet hand upon the suffering,
strength to the poor,
and a spark for those who wander in darkness
To whisper that life…
even when cruel
is still worth holding on to.
Youth drifts away with time,
but beauty stays within—
in kindness given without asking,
in love that holds through every season,
in the light we pass from one soul to another.
That light is what lasts
what makes us beautiful, always.
Through shattered glass, I see my past
Reflected fragments of what didn't last
Like ripples on a midnight sea
Each piece reveals a part of me.
The phoenix rises from the deep
Where shadows dance and secrets sleep
With every step, I claim my ground
Between the worlds I've turned around.
In cosmic depths, I find my voice
Where darkness meets the inner choice
To rise above the breaking pain
And turn my scars into wings again.
The mirrors crack, the pieces fall
But in their shards, I hear it all
The whispers of my deepest soul
Guiding me to make myself whole.
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 14 Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 9/6/2025 12:49:00 PM
( 1st Place )
Written: September 04, 2025
They said the songbird
her wings twisted and torn
should quiet herself...
that the sky held no place
for the fragile or the worn.
Yet she kept a sky tucked inside her - a
place untouched by any hand.
At daylight she let her voice rise
and though her body stayed earthbound,
her song lifted past the edge of flight.
The wind slowed to listen,
branches bent nearer
and the horizon seemed to pause,
stirred by her willfulness .
Each note unlaced an old wound,
each chorus pushed against the walls
of a world that once turned her away.
Her feathers never mended,
yet her dream grew wide enough
to shelter every broken one who followed.
From her we understood:
reaching the sky
was never about wings at all.
I woke each break with cast a shadow on my chest,
a nameless weight that stole my needed rest.
It spoke in lies I dared not try to fight,
and turned the morning darker than the night.
I laughed in rooms so no one saw the ache,
while every smile felt brittle, thin, and fake.
It fed on doubt, on all I held in fear,
until my hope grew faint then disappeared.
And saw not ruin but a quiet resurrection.
A spark within me, stubborn, fierce, and small,
whispered, rise now…you will not fall.
I never struck it down with a conqueror's sword—
I just smply prevented confiding the fibs it made.
I stood unarmored yet would not yield—
my heart-- the only weapon I could wield.
It roared, it clawed, but I refused to bend;
its reign of silence met a sudden end.
And in that breath, my life was rearranged—
The day the beast cut down, was the day I changed.
Pick-A-Title, Vol 54 Poetry Contest // Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Contest Judged: 9/5/2025 5:24:00 PM
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 13, 2025
It stalks in silent corners of the mind.
A whisper, jagged, dark, and undefined.
Its claws creeps walls we dare not show,
eyes ecstatic where our hearts should glow.
It scoff on mistrust, on every hidden fear,
gnawing at the edges of what we hold dear,
A silent growl underneath the laughing sound.
A truth too fierce to face the day unbound.
Yet deep down inside the marrow of this fight.
A spark ignites a flutter of quiet light.
We don’t meet the beast with sword or shield
but with the quiet courage the heart alone can hold
It howls, it rampage, yet we will not fall,
it's shadow recoils before our inner call.
The beast is vicious, but we are more vicious still--
Adepts of the darkness by our iron will.
I was destroyed by life's rough edges, ruthless stones,
Shattered pieces lost in silent tones.
But from the cracks, a fierce new flame was born—
A strength that rose through every ache and scorn.
Each fragment became a ground edge,
the story of struggles fought and led.
Steady, resilient and standing tall.
I rise untouched-- stronger after all.
The marks I wear are maps of where I’ve been--
proof of the strength growing from within.
From fractured , I found my spirit whole,
broken but bold, I rise and take my soul.
~ 3rd Place ~
Broken but bold enough to bounce back
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Contest Judged: 11/28/2025 1:01:00 AM
When folks accuse or blame you,
just stay calm, keep quiet.
They run the world, it seems,
and there’s really no winning against their words.
So just keep going forward.
Give them the price they want.
Let go of whatever makes them mad.
Step back when you need to,
stay out of their sight and reach.
That’s the reality—if you’re open enough to see it—
ignore the noise,
heal the peace they once broke inside you.
Understand.
Forgive.
Move on.
They might think they own the world,
but you don’t have to stay connected.
Love yourself,
protect the peace inside,
and take care of your soul.
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 6 Poetry Contest// Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 8/13/2025 9:42:00 AM
( 7th Place )
Written: August 10, 2025
I run the miles deep within,
a subdued race, an unspoken intent,
devoid of spectators-- no finish line,
just breath and heart, both entwined.
The shades lengthen along my path
but still a soft dawn finds its way turning into gray.
Stage by stage a tale, flaw, and goal,
rushing, steady flow.
The road stretches far, but I endure—
a counterfeit concealed, strong and pure.
through storms that howl, nights that weep,
I keep the pace, I am awake.
With each mile that challenges my thoughts,
I find a surprising wellspring of strength.
not in the roar or triumphant--
but in the stillness, I transformed!
A marathoner not of feet,
but of the unflinching heartbeat,
so when the world drifts apart,
I run the internal reach.
Cruelty wears a crown in a cloaked place,
cold-blooded grins behind mirrored faces.
Remorse walks the halls bartering tattle while I fracture.
They crowned me in shame, but
within a queen still rises.
They buried me in a fire of hell,
But like ash-gray smoke, I rise and swell.
I am the silence of the crown,
gone through ups and downs
stumbled in the dark multiple times
but my spirit still my heart and mind.
I am a teacher, a child, a guardian and a shadow behind my past.
But a strong woman who will still rise from the stillness of darkness.
Inside of me multiply like smoke and breathe:
into silence of forgiveness and hope.
Yes, still I rise, a whisper stitched in storm-
a sovereign spirit-fearless and warm.
The tortured self becomes the flame
not burned but lit beyond their shame
like the shimmering star, shining bright afar!
This is me, a version of being a woman in time and forever be!
They hunt for a name to trap your soul,
then twist the truth until it burns with reproach.
It drags the heart into its chilling, ruthless fire and spins lies that shadow a flawless glow.
Kindness cannot linger where judgment rules and only friends move through untouched by harm.
Within this shadow, quiet power rises...
a gentle light that passes every barrier.
Even as shadows gather and eyes glisten with tears and harsh words crash like a relentless tide,
the heart holds steady.
Defying all the pain,
unseen, it guards its sacred honesty.
Keep moving,
unbroken by their cruel claims for what is real outshines the toughest cries.
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