Hope floats
Perseverance
Rising above
Feet beating path like drummer
In grey concrete jungle thriving
Unaliving denim doubts
I regret that our land has lost its joy.
People live in misery,
Working without reward.
They receive lies as if they were food,
And survive on tears alone.
Power rests in the hands of rulers,
While the people remain blind and unheard.
Leaders speak of love,
Yet they write stories of pain.
They lead citizens toward suffering.
People dream of salvation
To end their difficult situation.
Truth is buried in silence,
And no one dares to comment.
Like oil that boils over,
Anger rises among the people.
Yet those in power seem heartless.
Rulers act like angels,
Always wanting to be first.
They rarely seek advice,
Though their speeches are full of mistakes.
People need warriors to confront the lions;
They seek saviors for the jungle.
Who will defend them from these troubles?
it was third platoon’s turn to leave
the safety of the wire
our platoon’s mission
search and destroy
the air was like a sauna with no relief
the jungle closed in on us
blocked out the sun
our packs weighed on us
as we humped twenty klicks
without a break
our jungle fatigues
hung heavy on us
failed to wick sweat away
from our bodies
we felt as though a
salty monsoon had soaked us
Johnson, on point, was
out in front probing
for the enemy
we all hoped the day
would end peacefully
we spread out
to lesson our chances
of mass casualties
we reached the village
mid afternoon
it was deserted
even the water buffalo was gone
we ripped up the floors
in each hootch looking for
the hidden enemy-but found none
when we finished searching
we pulled our Zippos from
our pockets and lit
the dry straw that served as
a roof on each one
and watched as the hootches roared up
in flames like a Roman candle on July 4
our lieutenant signaled for us to
take a break and we sat among
the debris some smoking
cigarettes others catching some zees
no one was
going home in a body bag
our day was a success
Beyond the jungle of the evergreens
Were metal points in the sky
that surpassed the highest peaks
The tones of the structure
Were of grays,
Browns,
And creams
Multi-layered with window frames,
Two outer concrete figures,
And a brown door with a pearl-like handle
That was envisioned by dreams
This mystic gingerbread-like
Fortress had no visible road to proceed
It seemed it liked its seclusion
Not even a sight of living figurines
But what kept it company were the critters
That hid among the trees and stream
Trees traced of piney, woodsy, subtle with a sweet scent
Was among the light breeze
The stream was cloud-like flowing
With its own flow-like routine
The water was so fresh it had an earthy aroma,
With natural minerals in between
After breakfast the squirrels and deer would
Watch the blue skies as they gleam
Though you may not see the fortress
While diving as it seems
You can try to find its hiding spot
Among the peaks between the trees
What happens in a jungle at night
when you leave the winding path
in the evening in a thick forest?
What scenes wild animals create—
what dreadful shapes move in the dark
among birds and trees,
you never truly know.
How terrible the wind may sound,
how silence presses
on every living soul.
The green leaves of the trees
seem to fade to yellow
under the weight of dark shadows.
The whole night is alive
with strange, unheard sounds—
a whisper of twigs,
a flutter of wings,
a rustle moving unseen.
It is like when you sleep at night—
you never truly know
where you are,
where your soul travels.
Yet when morning comes,
the jungle turns gentle and bright.
It looks like a fairyland,
full of life and quiet blessings.
Nothing seems strange;
no trace of the fearful night remains.
Just as when you wake in the morning—
refreshed and peaceful,
unaware of the storms
that passed while you slept.
Perhaps we do not need
to know everything.
Some shadows are kinder
when left unnamed.
Keep moving toward what matters.
Much happens around us,
yet entangling ourselves in every mystery
can shake confidence,
make the spirit fragile,
and disturb the quiet of the heart.
In the dark night of the jungle,
During a thunderstorm and heavy rain,
A lone fawn appears in flashes of lightning,
Separated from its mother,
Frightened by wild creatures and wilderness.
The roar of clouds
And the terrifying roar of the king
Force it to hide behind a mound.
Time stretches like years,
Yet its endurance bears fruit.
The clouds lose their fury before the fragile fawn
And drift away like a defeated army.
Stars emerge; the fawn’s hope strengthens.
The moon lights its trembling path.
After a few dreadful hours,
Guided by patience and faith,
The fawn reunites with its mother
In the silver light of the moon.
Technology has reached the jungle.
Too late ~ there is no turning back.
Ain't no stopping this devolution.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2026
Having their own existence
Though not really a thing
But a way cleared of things
Constituting a means to fall sideways
Beckoning horizontal gravity
Proposing purpose, pointless promise
Lots beguiling by sweet sticky
Olfactory wipings
Subject pushes like a fooled particle
Discovering networks
From an inside perspective
Looking like tubes.
From outside, arachnoid;
The infinite trap
Divine vision of spider
At the universe's centre.
What you see, you get.
Amy the tier-one junkyard cat upends
When her ‘I don’t care’ cattitude offends
She stalks, strikes, then eats
Has no time for treats
Mice used to be fast food but now are friends
Sputnik the panther jungle cat has fun
Laughing as all the humans try to run
Some run as fast they can
Some stop to make a stand
Either way their denouement has begun
I’m like, “Yo!”,
and he’s like, “Woh!”,
and I’m like, “Good to meet,”
and he’s like, “Yeah, real neat,”
and I’m like, “Jungle sucks,”
and he’s like, “It’s big bucks,”
and I’m like, “It’s the pits,”
and he’s like, “What a ditz!”,
and I’m like, “Where’s the beer?”,
and he’s like, “Why you here?”,
and I’m like, “I got sent,”
and he’s like, “Excellent!”,
and I’m like, “Let’s shoot pool,”
and he’s like, “That’s way cool,”
and he’s like, “You from Alaska?”,
and I’m like, “Nah – Nebraska”,
and he’s like, “Go Huskers!”,
and I’m like, “No tuskers?”
and he’s like, “Had a cull, for food”,
and I’m like, “Radical, dude
Cheap cardboard clothes and tearaway dreams
Coupons drip dry thru lush laden aisles
This menagerie's not quite what it seems
Stitched across all their cheap cardboard smiles!
They'll tell you what's hot, sell you what's not
Just bring your friends, come play in our yards
While you buy and buy all that they've got
They smile while they fleece greased credit cards!
Designer rags and shoes that's walked miles
Once you get home, you spy the bungle
Stitched again by imitation smiles
They're the Queens of the Cardboard Jungle!
What's that creeping around in the dark?
Hungry, glowing eyes reflect a spark!
This African jungle,
Is no place to bungle.
Hope that's Mr.Lemon, Meadowlark!
I've been watching "Naked and Afraid Apocalypse" on Sundays.
Lions and Hyenas are stalking fresh meat at night,
Feral eyes reflect hunger from campfire light!
Quite a spooky sight to ignite their fright!
Thinking is a thing of the past
they see no profit in that
looking on is easier for them
and they'll follow the herd at the drop of a hat
committees are but cash cows for the incompetent
with nothing accomplished at the end of the day
by back-slapping glad-handing
or under the table their cards they play
talking is of days gone by
they view no profit there
watching is the thing to do
and they'll gaze on anywhere
I thought they didn't have the courage
of their convictions big or small
but I was wrong as now I've found
they have none at all
meanwhile
we're out here in the human jungle
bumbling about stumbling around
going in circles jumping up falling down
and life is good or so I'm told
but I don't buy what I'm sold
“Wilderness has at once a mysterious beauty and horror entwined within. Human mind also harbours wild urges and benign emotions. When wild urges take precedence, life becomes an untamed jungle” ~ By Poet
The jungle sprawls hauntingly scary
Where light and shadows together dance.
Here the wind howls fiercely
Thickets and thistles grow wild
Creepers twine around trees.
Branches of trees droop in disarray,
Blocking the paths and obstructing entry.
Under jagged rocks and holes,
Snakes crawl and rodents flee.
The ominous hoot of owls rent the air.
The rocky boulders in dim light look so monstrous.
Leopards and tigers roam free looking for prey
Their carnivores urge, hidden under their soft paws.
From hideouts, raptors and beasts come to the open.
Screeching bats keep flying overhead
Here in this dark grove, light seldom falls
There is a morbid silence, interrupted
By howls of predators and screams of the preyed.
Is not our world too, a wild untamed jungle
Where wolves roam ready to pounce, ready to strike!
"Lost, in a fight for survival, a man refuses to succumb to a harsh wilderness." - quote by poet.
A great aerial adventure comes to
A harrowing end for one man.
His hot air balloon malfunctions;
It comes crashing down in the middle
Of a vast sea of trees.
He is quite fortunate to be alive,
But sustained injuries in the crash.
He shot his flare gun up in the air;
The only one in his possession.
T'was all for naught. Now what?
He has combed through the crash site
For his dislocated phone in vain.
Rainy jungle, untamed; It's no place to wait
For rescue. Wild animals roam here;
It teems with insects and snakes, too.
On the move with a badly broken leg,
He beats his way through the undergrowth
Back to civilization. Danger lurks
In every corner, but with strong faith
And resourcefulness, he pushes forward...
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