Into laughter I have dissolved
I'd like to thank everyone involved.
Don't you think it's great?
I'll have to mark this date!
All my problems have been solved.
Letter to my son
Son
there is a reason why life is fair
Despite the other colours in life
Yet life only chose to be fair
So do yourself no harm
Have the balls and courage
to be who you want to be
There is no better way
So Stay out of troubles
cos the street got no love son
I tell you no lie
Cos I have been there before
Don’t call a night when the day is on
Don’t point fingers when your eyes are dirty
But protect yourself from every attack
Revenge if necessary
Be aware of illusion and manipulation
Be honest and royal but not a fool
Remember life is fair not red
So work hard for your self
Be somebody son
Be humble but be sensitive
Trust everyone to be who they are
Trust a snake to be a snake
Trust a lion to be a lion
Don’t sleep and dream only
Go out chase them
I repeat again be somebody son
You will succeed yes I bless yours days
God will always guide and protect you out there in a cold world
Your destiny is in your hands
God bless you son
Signed X’s and O’s
Through the tears…despite my fears,
I’ll be back home again.
Though the war rages for endless ages,
I’ll be back home again.
Though I’m far away from you,
You have no need for concerns,
For my love remains true,
And my passion still burns,
And I’ll be back home again.
Though its dark and lonely here,
Thoughts of you keep me strong.
Being kept from you is my only fear,
But I know it won’t be for long,
And I’ll be back home again.
And though the time I must be away
Drags slowly on and on,
We both know there will come a day
When from this hell I’ll be gone,
And I’ll be back home again.
And though I say, “Don’t forget to pray,”
That I’ll be back home again,
And when I’m through, you’ll know it’s true,
‘Cause I’ll be back home again.
When it’s my turn to come back home,
It’s on the first plane I’ll be,
With no more desire to roam,
And it’s your lovely face I’ll see
When again I’m back home.
I’ll do what I must,
And in God I trust,
While my service I complete,
Till I’m back home my sweet.
Signed with X’s and O’s--
That’s how the letter closed,
That the chaplain brought to her door.
A soldier back home never more…
The love song with no lyrics
that is the reality of my life.
The empty tin with no noise
that is my cry.
The holes I patch
Open up new wounds.
The pressure of pain bursts out loud
like a broken water pipe.
All my memories are stored away
in a dark cloud
that rains
every time I recall
the fantasy of our love.
You wanted laughter,
so I rehearsed a smile.
I tied my soul to my words for you.
I learned to hold the storm,
swallowing the thunder
so your sky stayed clear.
The beautiful storm,
the sweet salt,
the calm sea,
the perfect love
oh, what a fantasy.
I patched the flame
with borrowed words and lullabies,
played our record
until it ran out of words.
I became fluent in silence
just to keep your peace,
but it screamed inside me
louder than love ever did.
I held the door open for you for so long,
I forgot how to close it on myself.
Oh, the irony of love.
Every smile I wore for you
left bruises on my soul.
Now I drown in the floods
I never let out.
And I wonder…
was my love letter
mailed to the wrong address?
a letter to my editor
I have tried to get more cash to spend
on introducing me to a bigger audience
I contacted many of my readers on X and asked for
A contribution sent to Hillshire will not come
amiss so far nothing.
I could have asked the man himself, but I will not
He suffers from the insecurity that rich people
People who suffer from that, we like them for the money
I happen to like Elon Musk because he struggles
with a deep-seated shyness like my brother did
So his life is not that easy
So, therefore, just print the en book and send
a couple of copies to me, I shall be nothing more
than mulch in the acre of poetry
The pages in your box
were never opened,
never flipped to let the light in.
The silence inside that box
spoke louder than words
it whispered of pain
hiding in every verse you never wrote.
I wonder if what you call love
was ever true love at all.
You left me
dancing in silence,
caught between a love that never lived
and a hate that never spoke its name.
The letters you never sent
are the ones that cut deepest.
I sit with them anyway
pains and tears spilling
down my cheeks,
searching for healing in empty paper.
If only your heart would unfold,
if only the words you buried
found their way to the page,
maybe we wouldn’t be here
living in pain,
dancing in the silence,
wandering through the dark.
So I have decided:
I will write my own letter.
I will seal my truth inside it.
And maybe one day,
you will open it,
read it,
and finally reply.
Won't write the entirety of my sibling's heartfelt letter,
But those lovingly sweet lines made me feel so much better,
Happier knowing I always helped them when under the weather.
I am reaching out to you
Because I could not stop it
How have you been?
I have been missing you
Hope you have been missing me too.
Under a yellow lamp I wrote a letter,
Poured my heart on a paper,
The ink I used was my own blood,
A red crimson on a white pearl,
I placed it under a purple envelope,
Fold it with great adoration,
Let me pour the hot wax and seal it with precious florals
It was adorned with jems and stones,
The most shiny thing I could thought off
I post it using the postbox, but it was never received as the address was missing,
A letter without a home like a rose without it's thorns,
But I will keep sending my pieces of heart,
Until it can found a way back home.
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.
Dear Eos,
I
wish I still felt passion in my heart toward
the generous soul that you are.
You always saw beauty in the world
and painted strokes of life
with a brush of sweetness and delight.
I
am sorry for the suffering life's put you through.
The heart is a fickle thing. It simply was not meant to be.
We've walked together but now our paths divert,
we take with us the lessons that we learned.
----Tithonus.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Saracen princess,
Blackened corridors bathed in honey hold you in high esteem as you dance in flickers, eyes raising the death toll every time you envision your body against your next casualty. It pleases me greatly.
Could you cross into that other world with me? Our souls have traversed the morning sky, searching for the cure to this hallucination, masking horripilation with lust and ambition. It would please me greatly.
I am the son of the soldier who was the grandson of a soldier who was the great-grandson of a chief. My mother tells me my grandmother believes she's a queen. It pleases me greatly.
I will bring you every world. The corridors of my heart flicker, masking the morning sky with visions of blackened soldiers, horror hollowed by a honeyed queen. You please me greatly.
Your letters bring joy
All the colors of kindness
Kindle Dawn's soft flame
countless dreams of you
when i open my eyes i start to feel blue
memories we shared
music we blared
I just never thought we’d be through
driving thru my city thinking bout you…
steering as the.. soft familiar harmonies sound thru
my stereo
our hearts were stuck together just like glue
A banner flutters in miniature pride,
stars frozen mid-waltz, stripes folding
like gentle waves—
a tiny chorus of red, white, blue.
I imagine the seam of that paper flag,
its edges serrated like hopeful teeth,
waiting to bite into air,
to sail across neighborhoods on whispered wings.
Each star is a promise—
a small light in a massive sky.
Each stripe, a pulse:
resilience, unity, churned history distilled
into red—blood, courage, sacrifice.
At the bottom: FREEDOM—
a single word anchored in gray,
soft as ash and loud as a marching drum
pressed into one corner,
a vow to endure beyond the moment.
I see letters etched beneath fingers,
penned in midnight lamps—
love letters to mothers and soldiers,
invitations to lonely birthdays,
apologies and confessions sent
with trembling stamps of hope.
On this paper flag, we bind our stories.
It’s less about the pride of nations,
more about the weight of our words
and the silent faith that someone, somewhere,
will hold that flag
and read our hearts.
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