Glows this fall with its joy's delight
Tints burst, gold and rossette, on sight
Blossoms on fields begin to peep
Along lush soil where mornings creep.
November breathes through minty breeze
A season's vow to dance wiith ease
Upon clayed floor bedecked at last ;
In drapes of birdsongs...quite unmatched :
Oval -shaped leaves unfurling now
Would soon hang heavy on the bough,
Quite charming they are, stirring there
Enough to thrill.. I must delare .
And harvest full on baskets lain
Folks hum of Thanksgiving's refrain
Beholden by God's jubilee ;
The wisp of autumn breathes in me !
Line of inquiry:
The dream seems real since we don a form,
borrowed from elements of that domain,
but if we simply chose not to conform,
we wake up when desires to rest are lain. - Unseeking Seeker
This ungainly body of flesh and bone
disintegrating slowly year by year . . .
it’s not my physique that I wish to own
once I let go and see new life appear
This shell I wear composed of elements
covers organs, and it must be fed.
It’s not the bearer of my sentiments,
and surely I’ll not miss it when I’m dead.
Unencumbered by this outer shell,
I could be the free translucent me.
I’d float; I’d soar; I’d go where angels dwell.
Embraced by light and love I long to be.
Line of inquiry:
The dream seems real since we don a form,
borrowed from elements of that domain,
but if we simply chose not to conform,
we wake up when desires to rest are lain.
________________________________________________
Life, seen sweet and scented is just a dream
Schemes planned prior, cruel Fate may rearrange.
The ground we stay on is not solid as it may seem
Everything is fickle and fleeting, subject to change.
We build concrete structures in stone and steel
Thinking their strength will never give way
But they may totter under Time’s spinning wheel
And collapse into rubble, ruin and ultimate decay.
Conform to the dictates of one’s Conscience.
Stoke the embers of light glimmering inside.
In everything seek, God’s benign guidance,
Not to drift like hollow husk over the tide.
What seems solid and stable are things of fragility
So, never get duped by the illusion of solidity.
The dream seems real when we don the form
Borrowed from elements of the domain
But if we simply chose not to conform
We wake up when desires to rest are lain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Illusions of Solidity
In the shadows of stardust
When night slips through my fingers
Like seconds
The heart spills its secrets
In mirages
Trying to capture
The ephemeral laughter
Of moonlight
Wrestling with rainbows
In the language of memoir
A broad reach into the blanched bones
Of lavender daylight.
A psalm springs from my soul
To gather bits of memoir
When phantasms long
To swallow sunlight
And unrelenting spots of ebony
Pine to sully the new petals of dawn
With sagging wrinkles,
Withering fatigue.
I touch the lightning face
Of the morning’s firstborn star
Drawn into the hollows
Where I thirst
For the integrity of sunlight and thunder
To brush against the zephyr’s density,
Untarnished pearls of empathy,
And leave the remnants of ebony-colored fogs,
Their slight-of-hand, my legacy of dreams,
To twirl into aurora’s arms.
Contest Name: Illusion of solidity
Line of inquiry:
The dream seems real since we don a form,
borrowed from elements of that domain,
but if we simply chose not to conform,
we wake up when desires to rest are lain.
Illusion of solidity
Once I saw you waiting, seated there for me,
And every day our silent love grew quietly.
Your scent stayed with my soul in every part,
You circled me like moon around earth’s heart.
Spring bloomed inside my autumn garden’s air,
And grief’s deep wound turned soft to healing care.
You were my healer and my love combined,
Joy fell like honey, sweet and undefined.
Then sorrow cut like glass with edges thin,
And showed the cracks I tried to hide within.
The dream seems real since we don a form,
borrowed from elements of that domain,
but if we simply chose not to conform,
we wake up when desires to rest are lain.
Now time has turned, the dream has slipped away,
You live in photographs and faded day.
I’m left alone, with smoke where fire used to be,
Chasing solid love that was never meant for me.
Line of inquiry:
The dream seems real since we don a form,
borrowed from elements of that domain,
but if we simply chose not to conform,
we wake up when desires to rest are lain.
Unseeking Seeker
Caught in your white web of lies like black flies
Each dream a bubble bursting destroying lives
He said “I do” to more than one blushing bride
In more than one state or country claiming wives
Was watching TV when the glass ceiling broke
Illusion of solidity was a phantom a green ghost
Pictures of the women the children they tote
Your house of cards falling down a jaded joke
Fool me once silver shame on you
You made many fools saying “I do”
Mary wept before the morning knew its name.
The stone was rolled away,
and silence answered where love had lain.
She did not seek a kingdom,
nor a throne of earthly glory.
She sought only the One
who had spoken peace to the broken
and hope to the forgotten.
Her tears fell upon the ground
like rain upon thirsty fields.
The garden held its breath,
and even the wind seemed to wait.
Then came a voice,
gentle as dawn upon the hills:
"Mary."
In that single word
the night surrendered its sorrow.
Death released its claim,
and despair lost its tongue.
She turned,
and the tears that had been planted in grief
rose into joy beyond telling.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for the Lord remembers every tear.
He does not leave the faithful
to walk forever in the valley of shadows.
So Mary wept,
but not as one abandoned.
For where love is stronger than the grave,
every tear becomes a witness,
and every dawn proclaims:
The Living One
is not among the dead.
lust not to rest lain
weeds cleared grow again
and since roots are deep
dreams haunt us in sleep
along love’s locus
we hold firm focus
sensing bliss beat’s chime
from beyond space-time
divine exorcism
cleanses body prism
whence we shine as light
drenched in bliss delight
demons that appear
we no longer fear
since ego is dead
and we’re by God led
we mind not the burn
in mind-body urn
as we so transform
in bliss currents warm
There once was a mind in despair
That judged the world harsh and unfair
Through trauma and grief
It rejected belief
Yet still cried for justice and care
If feelings alone lead the way
(They shift with the night and the day)
So whose mind should decide
What is wrong, what’s right
When emotions can darken or sway?
To measure the good and the true
A Standard must stand over you
Not anger’s demand
Nor a wavering hand
But a Judge who is righteous all through
Some say God’s a wish of the brain
A child’s projectionism, lain
But Freud could not see
Every soul that would be
So his claim is arbitrarily plain
The proof then is pressed in reply
Deny Him and reason runs dry
For worldviews opposed
Leave foundations exposed
And collapse when their claims reach the sky
Resolution:
This one faith puts Jehovah on high
(So cling to Him while He is nigh)
And Its book makes a claim
That without Him, disdain
With an ambivalent heavy sigh
Morning Gratitude
Kevin Davis 2025
I rise before the break of day,
To claim an hour that’s, mine to keep.
Alone I greet the growing gray,
While dawn awakes from quiet sleep.
I watch the sky ignite with flame,
Then blush to gold and fade from sight.
No two sunrises are the same,
Each brief display is a gift of light.
I walk where silver dew has lain
And plan the labors of the day.
An apple’s sweetness, crisp and plain,
While robins dart and wheel away.
My thoughts grow sharp, my spirit still.
I dress without a rush or fret.
Each simple task bends to my will,
By ordered grace and habit set.
Before I leave, I pause awhile
To see my love in peaceful rest.
I wake her with a kiss and smile
And hold her close against my chest.
I thank the Lord for one more dawn,
For love that waits when day is through.
Then step into the light drawn on,
With grateful heart and purpose true.
Have all fears and desires been to rest lain~
Are thoughts and sensory inputs our chain
He took a whiff...
Though he promised never again;
For he knew,
Even if he was set on the brink of a cliff-
He'd still fall time and again.
He stood on the verge of internal collapse,
From the very thing he performed.
Yet unable to abandon the oddly normed,
Be it the rite of self delapse.
Is it sin to try and fail?
Or is it right to have tried-
but have it met failure?
For to have fought with no avail,
Or for it to simply become leisure?
"Certainly not", He thought,
For he had tried time and again
Though to see what became of it,
Certainly wasn't what he sought;
For his candle had been long lit,
And his slate of existence already been lain.
Topped with terra cotta- tiled roof
the house stood on a hill with pine trees,
partly covering it from view,
with its turrets opening like watchful eyes.
Rumor runs, at night from there,
people hear strange wailings.
Scoffing it as the weird fancy of crazy minds,
eager to prove the irrationality of it,
one night I ascended the hill,
leading to that cozy mansion.
As I paced faster and came closer,
the house looked so imposing
with a wide yard and a porch
surrounded by ornamental railings
with a winding driveway
lain with marble squares
and leading to the entrance
Close to the house but safely distant,
I noticed a narrow pit hidden among shrubs
Nothing was unusual about it.
I walked round and round.
Couldn’t see anything to rouse suspicion.
When I was about to leave,
as a proud victor after a thorough search,
I saw a skeletal figure emerging
from the pit and rising into air wailing.
In horror, as I looked on,
like a bird, on the pine branch, it did perch
and soon shape shifted into a man.
Fancy or Fact, never looking back
I took to my heels as fast as I could.
FOR HONOR
The powerful oak doth tower above
while the willow whines and weeps.
The snow bunny toughs out winters
trials the grizzly groans and sleeps
Can the make of a man best be assessed
by the size of the dog in the fight,
or character's bent that can't be spent,
in matters of wrong or right?
A rebel's soul, a wander lust,
a spirit freed, a cloud of dust.
No blame lain, or broken trust.
A rambling man's feet never rust.
The fool without tools, learnt getting burnt,
often lept into the fray.
His lone wish, don't serve empty dish,
like the love on his plate each day.
Was never taught how to be a man.
The streets teach do or dying
If only heard, these simple words,
"The honor is in the trying."
On a soggy dusk, long time ago,
When shadows huddled at every corner,
When rain had gone and birds had roosted,
You held me close and whispered in my ear;
“In your eyes I see, the blue of the sky,
In your soul, you hold the depth of seas,
Love swells, like tides on rise,
My life, I vow, by Jove, never to part”
Your voice, like a tremulous rivulet gurgled,
We stood staring at each other in a warm embrace
With passion sweet, your eyes glowed.
They were like a blue lagoon, deep and peaceful
On my dimpled cheek, a kiss you planted,
A gesture warm with abiding love.
Crisscross lain as warp and weft,
We hoped to weave the garb of life.
Words and deeds that served as balm to soul!
Still, they echo, gushing a flurry of thoughts,
But alas! To a far unknown land you fled,
‘From whose bourn, no traveler returns’,
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