If you were a star, shining down on me,
You’d be the only one, that I can see.
If you were a diamond, found in a mine
You would be flawless, with perfect design.
If you were a flower, in a wild meadow,
You’d dance with grace, as winds would blow.
If you were a perfume, a bottle of crystal,
You’d smell divine, powerful and mystical.
You are my partner, the one I adore,
My star, my diamond, my flower and more.
I love you Layla, will all my heart,
Which you have kept safe, from the start.
You are my girl, with long blonde hair,
With deep endless eyes, full of soul and care.
You are my soul mate, my angel on earth,
My destined partner, since both our births.
Your smile infectious, your laughter the same,
A voice so comforting, when you say my name.
Your wondrous mind, your ambition and drive,
You are the reason, I feel alive.
Layla your presence, your warming glow,
Your soul like glitter, and the sparkle it shows.
Layla your love, so warming and bright,
You’ve never failed, to light up my night.
I’m grateful that I know…
something that in every part of the world is true…
If we teach our children to be kind to animals
there’s a good chance they will grow up
and be kind to people too.
Where does capital end
and mere terrorism begin
I plead guilty
Of saying,
My grandchild is
The most beautiful
The most wonderful
The most intelligent,
It shows, it is so evident,
Absolutely so loving,
Character and nature so giving,
Makes friends instantly
And acts independently,
And so much fun,
Takes my hand
To help build sandcastles
In the sea sand,
Likes to share,
Tells you if she feels you are wrong,
That is not fair,
And how old is this little wonder,
Who is not even afraid
Of an intense storm
With lightning and thunder,
Two years and 8 months,
Who converses so sensibly,
And comprehensibly,
I am not exaggerating,
Such a wise little mind
Who is also so truly kind,
Who tells me I am not pronouncing
“Absolutely,” Correctly
It is ab-so lut-ely yiayia, she says,
And I beam at you with pride
You are so little, yet mature
Everyday we love you more and more,
And one day when our time is up,
I hope no time too soon,
When you look up and
See a full bright moon,
And lots of glittering stars,
It’s Yiayia and pappou ,
Sending you hugs
And love galore.
YIAYIA AND PAPPOU ARE THE GREEK WORDS FOR – GRANNY AND GRANDPA
surely
there
comes
a
time
when
love
speaks
so soft
and
gently
where
love
is kind
thus
no
more
loneliness
to
unwind
when
love speaks
gently
then
i
shall
find
that
love
is
kind
It’s a treasure to have a friend like Charlie Brown
who can be serious and just as easily be a clown
he’s resourceful and never gives up
he’d drink champagne out of a used paper cup
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
This was written from the heart.
Never knew it'd come to this.
I don't know where to start.
Mama, your son gotta kind heart!
But every day, the world's telling me to play my part.
From a boy to a man, I had to transcend.
Like a pea in a pot, I had to grow up.
Never once complained when it's time to show up.
I've been scarred, betrayed, and left to fend for myself.
No one's fault but mine, for trust don't get you far.
So I've learned to keep my heart dark, like a tint up car.
And fight it by myself this internal war.
Sorry it took me so long to understand.
The world's doesn't cater for the weak.
That every man's battle is in their own hands.
Win or lose, you gotta stand strong.
And a man's tears are as worthless as a dollar coin.
The older I get, there's thing's I comprehend.
Like family can be your biggest hater, nothing like a friend.
And you gotta answer to God for every sin.
I apologize for not knowing this in the beginning.
I am my father’s daughter —
quiet when it matters,
loud when it doesn’t,
loyal like a bruise that never fades.
He was a man of few words
and too many beers,
a homebody with calloused hands
who built his love from paychecks, plywood,
and patched fences.
He didn’t say much,
but he never let us go without.
We all worked with him —
held tools before toys,
learned to measure twice, cut once,
and use what we had
to make what we needed.
He handed me a hammer
like it was a promise.
Taught me how to build things
that wouldn’t fall apart.
And somehow,
that became a kind of love too.
He taught me the stillness of fishing —
how to listen for the pull,
how to wait without wanting too much.
He showed me rivers
the way some fathers show their daughters cathedrals.
And when I stand near water now,
he’s the first name that echoes back.
His anger could shake the walls,
but his lessons still hold:
Don’t waste. Don’t lie.
Always bait your own hook.
I used to sit
in the passenger seat of his silence,
learning how love doesn’t always speak,
but shows up every morning
with boots on
and something heavy in its hands.
what kind of parrot is he? We wondered, Chickasaw, Wyandotte or Crow?
His war paints of turquoise, pink, and yellow had been applied just so.
He was talking nonstop, but in tweets, whistles, and noises from a beak.
Possibly an Apache or one of those odd tribes south of east Chesapeake.
“We are all here on Earth to help others; what on earth the others are here for, I don’t know.” - W. H. Auden
Everyone wants to be a comedian,
some are better at it than others.
The many types of humour range
from dark & bitter to kind & thought-provoking.
Sometimes there's room for interpretation
where depth of meaning can be found.
Society being an endless source of inspiration,
we won't run out of material any time soon.
Try to find it in your heart to somehow leave your mark
and contribute in positive ways to this world
that is not as tough as it appears to be ~
below the surface it hurts and in much need of healing.
AP: 3rd place 2025
Today’s blessing comes from the words of Steve Maraboli…
Who, as often is the case, express it better than me.
Since we can’t always see what another person is going through…
what kind of suffering…anguish…ordeal
a kind gesture can reach a wound
that only compassion can heal
The curved fondle of an embrace
within the moistened kindle
of an evening's oiled lamp...
the splendor of your lubricious mouth
gathering all that's aflame and gentle
and I will find the slippery blue of eyes
dressed in your lavish kiss---
never knowing this potion of alchemy:
Dare I blink bewitched by
a caress of such pleasure
drip by drip , my being drawn
to relish that glide
of a nape pulsing through starlit glow
waxed by sweet grease of our shadows--
that nothing else will fulfill me
-but your ardor under all dew.
ideas don’t have time to percolate
Trixie yells them at me, this is my fate
Some of them are lame, not witty or great
Fearing Trixie’s wrath, I do not hesitate
As muses rank, she is truly first rate
her fantastic ideas we do not debate
she can create a poem from an apple crate
play dough, umbrellas, or a rusty grate
She does not want to hear what I have to say
Swiftly kicking my thoughts into a ditch all gray
Trixie is one of a kind, but always the boss.
If I did not have her, it would be such a loss.
Waking up in the middle of the night,
heating the stove to make a pot full of tea.
Oh, how this silence soothes and calms me.
Looking over at the clock, it reads 11:11.
Embers crackle softly in the fireplaces light,
Settling into its warmth, everything feels just right.
Over my shoulders, a blanket is draped with care,
moments like these are beyond compare.
Every cozy hour is a treasure to keep.
I saw god near a pawnshop today:
He had a crack pipe and
a crooked smile.
When he asked me for
a quarter, I gave it to
him.
And that’s when he
told me of his
omnipotence.
What a neat
guy.
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