Written: September 28, 2026
**********
Not by deed or name we claim the earth,
but by the weight of seasons spent under its sky—
the furrow brows that learned its sun and thirst,
the roots that reached where other roots drift dry.
I carried seeds in pockets, words in folds,
a language etched in wind and light and rain,
while foreign soil remained aloof, then cold,
and whispered through my veins a refrain:
You are guest. The ledger does not bend—
for those who walk with careful, borrowed tread.
But in the end, when journeys find their end,
the ground accepts both living and the dead.
So let me sleep where sun and shadow meet,
where grass recalls footprints, deep and small.
Not by the name I gave or roads I greet—
but by the dust that answers to my fall.
For earth remembers not what flags we flew,
but how we knelt to plant a single shoot—
how wounds we bled became the morning dew,
and how our silence learned the root's salute.
Underneath Orion's Belt
Underneath, my love would rise
Underneath the moon, I knelt
Underneath her loving eyes
Underneath the mistletoe
Underneath a pristine prize
Underneath the ebb and flow
Underneath my lover's thighs
Underneath my hollow heart
Underneath the moonless sky
Underneath, I'm torn apart
Underneath, my love would lay
Underneath my living hell
Underneath, I hope to die
Underneath I pray to dwell
Underneath...my love and I
No star. No light. No candle burns.
The heart, once warm, is cold and still.
To rock, to lifeless stone it turns —
A tomb, shut fast, in night as chill.
And in that tomb, so cold, so bare,
Lies Love made flesh, and crucified.
No breath. No voice. No answer there.
The world stood dark the hour He died.
Then Joseph came, a secret friend,
And begged the Body, cold as clay;
He wrapped his Lord, and knelt to tend
The wounds, in grief and in dismay.
There Christ lay on the stone, alone
His journey through the world was done;
No warmth was left in flesh or bone;
The earth cried out beneath the sun.
No grief had ever pierced so sore,
No heart had ever bowed its head —
The dark that day was dark far more
Than any dark before the dead.
Yet lower still His spirit came,
Down to the deep, where dead men lay,
And broke the bonds of ancient shame
That held our father, bound for aye.
Far in the east, a light was born —
Not warm, not gold, but cold and thin;
No man yet knew, that fearful morn,
If Life could ever wake within.
WHEN IN AND OF UNWARENESS
Rushed, peace slipped and fell;
Love knelt and pulled peace back up:-
God is always there:
Fall down in unawareness,
Seek, knock, and ask God for help:-
While in the woods a leaf upon the ground
Soon caught my eye because it was so bright.
I knelt, and picked it up then also found,
A tiny creature we would call a sprite.
I gazed in awe, I knew they did exist,
Here in the woods but one I had not seen.
So, felt quite blessed to have one in my midst,
Under the leaf, bright yellow, red, and green.
Not to disturb, him I replaced the leaf,
And smiled while then I quickly walked away.
Because I did not want to be a thief
But seeing him, had really made my day.
So, if your ever in the woods, look out
You never know when sprites may be about.
Neoliberal psychology
Guess work astrology
Ideology of technology
Not biology or zoology
Climate change tautology
More misled mythology
With plenty of misogyny
So don't be a progeny
Ruining our ecology
Perfidious methodology
Investigate the pathology
Dodgy as any theology
Populist prodigal prodigy
Just wild child kidology
That’s their anthology
Still we tighten our belt
But as we surely melt
Plead need oncology
For hand they've dealt
For everything smelt
Time for a heart felt
On bended knee knelt
Apology..!
A little steel robot named
Spark had a dream,
To join in a family and
eat some ice cream.
He watched from the
window as children would
play.
And wished he could join
them and laugh through the
day.
His dogs were all shiny, his
wires were all bright,
But he wanted a hug when
he turned off at night.
He made a cardboard heart
with a big red design,
And taped it right over his
battery line.
He walked to the park with a
hopeful metal grin,
And asked a kind family, "Can
I please fit in?"
The mother knelt down and
she patted his head,
"You don't need real skin to
be family, " she said.
The children cheered loudly
and gave him a squeeze,
While Spark felt a warmth
from his head to his knees.
He helped bake the cookies
and sweep up the floor,
And watched for the
mailman right by the front
door.
Even though made out of metal
and powered by gears,
He shared in their laughter
and wiped away tears.
He didn't need blood or a
heartbeat to strive,
The love from his family
made Spark feel alive.
J's good
K's mood
J prays
K lays
leis' scent
trees bent
pleas heard
gifts served
from sky
from High
birds sing
Winds bring
on hills
and tops
wind mills
that clap
tots play
and pray
like trees
and plants
hon'bees
not rants
gentle
sober
J asked
facemask
from K's
sand flask
a toy
K buoy
so cute
not mute
then K
asked J
"What's life?"
Life's good!
J prayed
and swayed
"Thank you."
For what?
"You're there!..."
as friend
who hears
and clears
my spot
not blot
who cares
not dares
and helps
not yelps
for years
not tears
uplifts
not drifts
who stays
on days
hot days
wet days
hears me
cheers me...
Oh dear...
God's good!
like us
Bless Us!
They knelt
and felt
the Sun
that shines
the Moon
not whines
smiling
with clouds
twirling
in crowds.
Life's good
Be good!...
I still recall how I once felt,
a young boy, as I knelt.
There were pigs, cows, and chickens.
I laughed like the dickens
before a board of felt.
Thousands of candles lit.
They form hazy clouds
They gather, unseen,
in the hush between pews
where people were praying.
I felt them even as candles flickered
I looked around as I heard their prayers.
Each heart bent but did not break.
They were the echo of endurance,
They expounded their faith
Except for a few that hid
in the dim corridors of doubt.
I saw most of the candles dimming,
Smoke rose and wonder what memory carries.
High in the vault clouds gather.
I wondered about faith and doubt.
I knelt down and fervently prayed.
God, please give me light.
The sun knelt in reverence.
She lived a moment's breath, no more.
Bravely took her final journey.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 2nd place 2026
I wandered past the overgrown gate,
Where the moss meets the ivy and whispers wait.
Past the rusted latch and the crumbling stone,
To a quiet corner I call my own.
Here the roses bloom in a velvet hush,
Painted in shades of twilight and blush.
Sunlight filters through emerald trees,
Releasing the scent of the evening breeze.
I knelt by the fountain, so still and deep,
Where the secrets of long-lost summers sleep.
And there in the silence, beneath the vine,
I unearthed a treasure that once was mine.
It wasn’t of silver, it wasn’t of gold,
But a beating warmth that the shadows hold.
A fragile pulse that the world had grown,
But here in the garden, my heart is my own.
Tucked away where the wild things grow,
Free from the rushing of all below.
I found my center, I found my start,
And bloomed once more in the secret heart.
With a K or maybe a C is often misspelt
Leprechaun sworn torn from green felt
Billiard baize suit worn with a big belt
Scorn cliches like Romans Cornish pelt
Taffs...the Jocks or Shamrocks smelt
In foreign lands so many have dwelt
Velvet villainy Galician or Brittany C/Kelt
Falter but not at Catholic altar knelt
Riff raffs playing the cards we're dealt
Life & death debacle glued a shoe's welt
Riddles tango with fiddles so heartfelt
Calms disarms always buxom not svelte
Lovers then in each others arms melt
No qualms rascal sparkle charms of a Celt
An unsavory man from Montreal
squatted in dim lit cafes
writing of the pain of love
a charlatan
he was the darker lovely dove
he inhaled the smoke of Satan
he sang to the devils army
purist of evil
his grave a urinal
to be used, over and over
his words knelt like prayers
and rose like knives.
Thinning morals
he possesses zero virtue
just a shadow
of the fires down below
he sings for the child killers
the thieves and robbers of the land
he chants of love, he means rape
for those not of his blend
his wishes burnt under
hidden flames of hostility
He may dress in rags
he may play the victim
in the end though
he will burn your flesh
a sacrifice
then he will call you his fool
he sang for genocide
not for the goyim half wit
Dead, he is dead
angels he will never see
In veiled gardens where dew-kissed petals first unfold,
Love’s silent scrolls belong to emerald blades untrod,
To blossoms sealed in morning’s virgin gold,
Not fields once wandered by the reckless, wayward god.
The opened rose, its nectar spilled and claimed,
Merits no fragrant quill, no heart’s shy plea;
Its secrets shared, its mystery untamed
Let faded stems stand silent, set them free.
Yet stranger still, when iron warriors bend the knee,
Conquered before the fray, their banners furled;
No lion yields his throne to whispered decree,
No true flame bows where softer shadows rule the world.
This borrowed veil from silver screens and painted lies,
Has chained the oak to ivy’s creeping hold;
Now western winds bear songs of veiled disguise,
Where once proud eagles knelt to doves of gold.
The ancient forge grows cold in yielding sighs,
Steel softened into pleas beneath moonlit skies.
What shadowed bloom when blades forget their bite
Scrolls to the gathered rose, surrender in the night.
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