Oh star laden night
Most precious sight
Hold me in your arms
My lust-lustered delight
What ecstacy this
Celestial bliss
Your lightest touch taunts
With a crisp crystal kiss
Sweet speckles in time
Lush and sublime
Closer to heaven
The more mountains you climb
They met each other in a dream one night
In the mist by the bank of the river.
When their eyes locked in their own embrace
They both felt a quiver
Each were captured in the moment.
The water hushed the trees.
Thumping hearts and shallow breaths
Were carried in the breeze.
The gap between them began to close
A tip-toe at a time.
At the lightest connection of their fingertips
A bright spark struck sublime.
They both glanced down at their hands
At the feel of irresistible desire.
They thought about what these hands could do
Their imaginations catching fire.
Their eyes locked again with lips curved to grin
They both felt a sudden rush.
She was a lady, he a gentleman
Yet their lust bled into blush.
He ushered her to take a seat
On a bench made just for two.
They took a deep breath and faded away
Into a hazy hue.
Though they enjoy it when they meet
In the fantasies of the night.
It impacts on the loneliness they feel
When such dreams take flight.
Each night when they settle down
The dreams they hope for evade them.
But when they least expect it,
They will meet each other again.
Sun has risen.
Tis then it spreads.
Specially enthused out of
Earth's shared heart is.
That one atom
Of it, warm pulsed
Is mankind's. The lightest blown!
Songster's? Their's whizz.
Brooke: my licorice baby.
Fire in those eyes and caramel hair.
Death has done us part.
So sad. The face
Glows.
With Radiation and Malnutrition, with
Gluttony and Pride
My Deus Ex Machina
My bloody sunrise
My darling butterfly
My river of mysterious red liquid.
Oh,
Brookie: my anti-husk
An eyed individual with
Dark hairs around the eyes
And a nose that carries immense weight.
Lightest skin
Most wonderful to be inside.
I want your hair in my mouth.
Silken dreadlocks weeping in rhythm.
Attuned with the lightest gust of wind.
Beauty in a sweeping motion.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2026
I wish I was the wind
ruffling oak leaves
wafting through a verdant meadow
traveling through the night air
gently kissing the tips of grasses
the lightest of songs
a whispering wisp
refreshing in the rain
rejuvenating the earth as I pass by
Reflecting on times, ones perfectly certain,
Without shadows of doubt on the mind,
As though shining, waiting by black or white curtains,
As though truth were so easy to find,
So clear now it seems, contrary to say,
Such clarity is not in the slightest,
As black, surely, but one dark shade of grey,
And pure white, just another, the lightest.
In the Garden of Beginings
Projects failed or flowered,
Left to grow or to wither
Many being overpowered,
Each an experiment,
A blending of force
Each left to follow its
Own individual course.
None were culled
Without good reason
Flowering and blooming
For season after season.
Experiment of dimensions
Matter, time, force, space
Some rising to exist briefly,
Some at more sedate pace
As the Universal Gardner,
Glorying in the sight
Of destructive darkness
And brilliant creative light.
Used the lightest of control
To keep things on track,
Moving from place to place
Its tools slung on its back
Is this what was meant for me…
The drawn reflection of a man?
Each step taken with the lightest touch,
So many they tread a new course.
At every bend, a choice was made,
Drawing circles and channels upon the land.
Choices made, lines in sand,
The track lies ahead, not behind.
I thought I’d rise, reflection true,
With head held high, over the brow.
But winds can shift and torrents flow ,
And roots will twist snap and wither.
Was the forest path already walked,
Or was it always laid, obscured?
Dreams lie like scattered leaves in the ether,
The wind whips them skyward, soaring,
Then wavering, falling - inevitably to the ground,
Shafts of sunlight pass through the branches,
Each footstep bolder, deliberate and careful.
The trodden path is worn and wild,
Shadows give way to sunlight, and light gives way to dark.
Up on the hill, melancholy and forlorn,
I stand like a Ghost at my Grave,
Where you buried me.
You buried me deep beneath the soil,
Where your roots have touched my skin,
No regret was there, nor ever been.
At the lightest of light, the darkest of days,
I wish I wouldn't have stayed,
Because now I stand like a Ghost at my Grave.
You destroyed my purity,
You buried my guilt,
For I still haven't returned, to the moment I lived.
Disarrayed, yet uneasy,
I observe and remain like a ghost at my grave,
As my soul, in awe, gets taken away.
In the seventies lipsticks were beige, blah and nude
Dull, usually colorless and odorless, not to be rude.
Bright reds of the forties and fifties were passe’, out.
The lightest of peaches could be applied to a pout.
Women were expected to be straight up and down.
Twiggy at twenty, twenty, twenty, was paraded around.
Rubenesque chesty women were considered way out of bound.
Emaciated starving young models were the talk of the town.
Is your soul black
Like an acrobat
Does heart flip
Trip then crack
Because you didn’t win
Or maybe you lost a friend
Could be you did sin
Or have ways to mend
There by the green tree
Is forgiveness for you
Forgiveness for me
On either side love a blue sea
Do you see
denim destiny
Letting go of the most
dear things to esteem
Rise above the tides
Of life’s dilemma like bird
Keep your eyes on the prize
And in your heart winged word
Forgiveness is the lightest load
Be you small shy silent
Or boisterous big bold
Water your spirit holy soul
Forgiveness is the way to do so
In still the night, the beaks slumber.
The weary wings, of great number,
In lightest twitch, upon the dark
Etching on oak, wait for dawn’s hark.
In common sleep - sigh encumber.
The scented air, lilacs cumber
With bluebird-lull, silent slumber.
No need to coax the dormant bark,
In still the night.
Quickly, stars found in low number.
Red guitar pick awakes slumber.
Birds nestle under branches’ ark.
A cloudy mist sets off a spark.
Storm’s cajole - raindrops outnumber,
In still the night.
If the boats had never came and colonisers none
Genocide never happened, wars had not begun,
Darker skin I would have and life I would not fear
If the boats had never came, I would still be here.
Gathering rich bush food upon my mother land
I embrace my peaceful place drawing on gold sand,
Lightest zephyr prompting me in salt water to revive
With precious blue I renew every day alive.
Where quietude surrounds me all along in sight
When setting sun has begun sea eagle is in flight,
And now I hear my people singing up a song
How happy are my people healthy, smart and strong.
I love to dream of way back then when heart was just the same
A painless time in my prime, if the boats had never came.
The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain. - Dolly Parton
Weeping, like a willows graceful waft, pleasing
Even the heart will melt in the doubtful breeze,
Moving calmly through the night, gently teasing
Weeping, like the leaves who fall upon their knees,
Echoed by souls poised in resilient prayers,
Even the heart will melt in the doubtful breeze,
Weeping, with tears who tempting nature compares,
Silent, each raindrop aspires to remember
Echoed by souls poised in resilient prayers,
Weeping, steady hearts are blessed by November,
Lightest drizzle reveals what psalms are singing,
Silent, each raindrop aspires to remember
Weeping, famous hush rainfall shall be bringing
Past the sprinkle of wisdom thru the ages
Lightest drizzle reveals what psalms are singing
Rainfall grieves as it drenches our heart’s pages
Weeping, like a willows graceful waft, pleasing
Past the sprinkle of wisdom thru the ages
Moving calmly through the night, gently teasing
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