A clever bird, in need of an income stream,
declared its basement open
for “respectable nocturnal renters.”
Two bats arrived at twilight,
carrying tiny suitcases
and impeccable references.
They promised quiet living,
paid three worms in advance,
and only asked for dim lighting
and a fruit bowl on Fridays.
Now the bird crows about
its passive income.
The bats brag they’ve scored
luxury lodging.
The only luxury we possess,
In this world, let’s say,
It’s to think about nature,
Men abuse men,
We can’t believe them often,
Women understand this,
So you have to listen to the birds,
Respect the elephants of Kenya,
So we must admire the roses,
To address them prayers,
spare the delicate whales
Preserving tropical forests is
The only luxury we possess.
14
The only luxury we possess,
In this world, let’s say,
It’s to think of each other,
To seek the goodness of some,
To admire the talent of others.
In the deafening thunderstorms,
Under the obscure ceiling of the clouds,
The only luxury we possess,
It’s to think of each other,
To admire Picasso and Courbet,
To think about Eric and Sébastien,
to Maryline and Martine, it’s
The only luxury we possess.
this self-help book I have read more than once, which is rare
I possibly read this one every two years
It makes sense to me
negativity begets negativity
positivity garners positivity
wearing black onyx and blue sapphires is not enough
praying for world peace has not worked
so to do my bit, my meager small itty bitty bit
I do my best to remember and live by this motto
Tossing negative thoughts into the gutter
kicking them down the hill
letting positive thoughts be my super power
So far, so good
White stretch limo type soiree.
Parked and awaiting at my front door.
Ready to spring into action.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Black velvet night
diamanté lustrous glow
sumptuous V neck dip
enchanting lush graced serene
Dramatic gown
Coco Chanel garnets glint
palatial swooning art
indelible presence haunt
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[Contest : Texture of Minimalism
Sponsor Nette Onclaud
17.11.25 : 4th Placing : Standard Contest
________________________
Crushed and pressed
Down into annihilation
Like rose petals on a page
Of humiliated substance.
Legends speak of this
The Way to the extraordinary
Like carbon turned into diamond
And alumina turned into sapphire
The way of lonely monks
to venerated saint
Of Cloistered virgins
to Doctor of the Church.
The paradox of austerity
To the luxury of heaven
In my comfy corner, a little space
A place of my own, as soft as a lace
Lays a long chair of queen’s height with a wooden base
With a rocking style for a ride at a mild pace
Cushions of vibrant colours, in fitting size in the pattern of a maze
Attracting all in less time, fixing attention and nothing to daze
Lovely longing starts to occupy the space with an urge to win the race
Hands over the chair and lying fit in the seat bring glow to my face
The breeze from a window behind calls for a chat and nature’s gaze
Focusing straight from the chair the books in long &short rows pull me towards their case
Genres, size, colour, and bound all arranged in a symmetric vase
Picking up a book of my choice, reading with the flow to travel places
With characters in between with coffee and cookies and varied tastes
Of food and drinks with a due time to nap with the book in the vests
Dreaming of writing one day a grand book of characters all I LOVE
Is a LUXURY I WISH to come true one fine day.
Just how long does a steaming lobster sob?
How terribly do boiling limbs and guts
burn? Like a million simultaneous cuts?
When does its sweltering heart cease to throb?
On who’s authority do humans rob
that creature of its life? Have we the rights?
—the rights to cook a living being? Nights,
(countless), have I questioned this brutish job.—
Yet, even still, I meet no day when not
a hungry shopper comes to claim a kill.
And for the taste of murdered, smoldered meat,
—(we sear our ethics inside that same pot)—
they beg me: “I can’t bear do it, but will
you?”. — — I’m sorry, truly, crustacean…”treat”.
The true dawn of dreams
that lingers like twilight’s kiss.
Luxury’s revels
draped in a regal cloak’s hush.
Crowned with velvet robes
of night’s elegant embrace,
with a mind and soul
brushed in amethyst’s true grace.
A whispered silence
that softens nature’s mystique—
the sweet wine of life
savored at twilight’s last glow.
A solitude hymn
composed for an empress’s smile,
like a meadow’s grin
filling an ocean’s wide sigh.
Luxury is all about choices
Wear a torn jeans or buy a new one
Throw away pie and order sushi
Or try to bake the pie again
Watch movie alone or hungout with friends
Search for a new job or revise your goal in life.
Luxury life is living your own terms
Keep walking towards your goals
Don't look for alibis
Don't get comfortable
Don't make excuses for your choices
Your dreams, your interests.
What a luxurious question I wonder,
Or is it ?
To take a pause leave the day unclaimed
No ticking of clock,
Over your head-
Unbothered by other’s agenda,
No login on time,
Or leaving the house on ungodly hours,
I get to choose,
To curate my day-
I wonder-
If I am found by this question,
Would I treasure it?
Or would I procrastinate my life away?
letting the time slip through
like a water through cupped hands.
Our minds so conditioned,
to dance with the tick and tok of the clock.
Suddenly, unrestrained.
Dumbfound,
Like a drunkard lost in a room full of time.
So I ask again,
what do I do today?
Do I seize, create, become?
Or simply linger in the beauty
of having the choice to wonder?
In Nigeria's land, where yuletide cheer does fade
A yearly refrain echoes, "Last year was better made"
A curse, it seems, that haunts the present's door
As if the past's sweet memories, forever leave us poor
The cost of food, a constant woe, does rise
A negative trend, that brings tears to sorrowful eyes
Past leaders, revered, as if their wisdom, we can't replace
Does this mean Nigeria's well, of good people, has run dry, and lost its pace?
Should we forever pine, for bygone days of old?
Prefer the past's faded glory, to the present's tale, yet untold?
Fuel and transport costs, a burden, we can't define
Monopoly's grip, so tight, it chokes the poor, and makes them decline
The price of meat, a luxury, few can afford to buy
Yet salaries stagnate, as if frozen, in a bygone sky
Oh, Nigeria, land of promise, when will thy people thrive?
When will the yuletide season, bring joy, and not just a survival to stay alive?
At night, death's dark whisper resounds
Chasing dreams, with bloody sweat unbound
Awakened by fear, his heart does pound
Beholding death's spirit, all around
By day, sleep flees, a rare reprieve
For he has slain it, with restless grief
A little slumber, a shout of doom
Forever haunted, a troubled tomb
Through "Baba Gbonka's" dark, deceitful gate
He sought wealth's shortcut, a fatal weight
Riches accrued, but health did flee
Mansions built, yet comfortless, he'll be
Luxury furniture, a hollow pride
Restricted to a mat, where he must reside
Strangers receive his charitable hand
But relatives, a forbidden land
Conditioned to spend, with daily strife
No peace, until his target meets life
Marriage yes, but children, a denied bliss
What's affluence without peace, but an empty kiss?
Who shall inherit all his earthly gain?
To what account, when his soul's laid to rest in pain?
The scripture says, "Godliness with contentment's the gain"
A truth he forgot, in wealth's vain, hallow reign
To me, love is not
A necessary item
It's just a luxury
If you fall in love
With someone
You shouldn't love
Even if it's true love
You shouldn't continue on
Rather than wasting time on that
Why not find someone
Suitable for yourself
What if you don't
Love the person who suits you
Then I'll pretend to love her
Pretend? Then you're leading her on
Lying to her
Lying to her would be
Lying to yourself
Real and fake
Fake and real
Without longing
Won't become
Neither fake or real
The way you think
Is really too negative
A person with no love
Is pretty pitiful.
I don’t need any other luxury:
Give me some books and a quiet spot
Where I can sit or recline
And lose my self
Among the pages of a paperback,
Or even a hardbound, and I become
Oblivious to the passage of time;
Give me a pen, just in case
I get inspired to compose
A line or two of what may pass for verse.
If I have these three--
Books, a space all my own, and a pen--
I am contented.
November 2, 2024
Baguio City, Philippines
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