Autumn's many colorful moons seen through the lens of a camera,
I see beauty and color everywhere.
As a child,
I did not know there was a harvest moon.
I loved watching the full autumn moon,
as it seemed to change colors.
Autumn's many colorful moons seen through the lens of a camera,
have changed over the years.
What has made this change?
The huge night clear sky is not as clear as it once was,
the full bright moon is not as bright.
Do we see the change year after year?
Do we even care?
I weep for the beauty of olden Autumn days,
a more peaceful time.
A bright full moon and clear night's sky,
that was once seen through the lens of a camera.
there is a reason i called you tonight
i was thinking of you today
memories of tears and smiles
the life we shared
it's up and downs, and now here we are
friends on different shores
waiting for life to close the book
i just wanted to say how blessed we are
long down this path
and we are the best of friends
that is why i called
we found where our love belonged
so many do not; that saddens me
Oregon 9/4/26
She didn't walk the way the world expected
None could guess what storm she had weathered
She moved and moved and never stopped
And her every footstep was strong and bold.
With a body that has carved its own battles
Adversity could not shake her firmness
She carried none of its sting and bitterness
But joyfully shared only smiles and sweetness.
While we speak of limits and constraints
She spoke of immense possibilities
Always exploring her potentialities
And lived them as graceful entities.
She refused any act of sympathy
And spurned faint token of empathy
All the time stood firmly saying no to pity
Predictably preferred the ground of dignity.
Legacy of self-dependency and dignity she sowed.
In her life journey all along, she has proved
That Power and strength are not measured
in strides but in the grit and spirit imbued.
collectors of nuts
scavengers by nature
endless shell casings......
She rummaged in the children's toy box, with a grin,
Found a little tube where sunshine tumbled in.
She spun the colored glass through to amber, gold and bright,
To let every broken feeling borrow some light.
As she turned the tube, dark blue was the hue.
Then yellow skipped and giggled by, changing the view.
Red sulked a while, then orange set it aflame,
And green forgot the reason it felt the same.
She shook the stars; they tumbled into the light.
A little mess of confetti became a small delight.
The gloomy shapes still waited in their place.
But sunshine found a laughing crease across their face.
Some hurts were sharp, as worries rolled around.
Yet every twist showed a different pattern to astound.
With golden surprises dancing through the blue-grays,
As the glass taught her new ways to brighten her days.
So suffering stayed—no trick could make it cease.
But the playful whirl of colors brought some peace.
As she watched, the whole room seemed to brightly glow,
With a child-like spectrum only the children know.
Many mount to fight evil, the evil they see, the evil that lurks each day.
Many we are, the ones that pray, the ones that seek to live okay.
Many have gone before us, they have lived and loved, and left many words, to help us on our journey through this life and move beyond.
Many we are, struggling with many issues, we suffer, we cry, we ask God why.
Many are in need, they lost their ability to take care of themselves, the apples are gone from reach, they make us pay just to eat free stuff.
Many remember the beauty in each day, the days when we worked on our farms and feed and grazed.
Many we are, we pray, we want to see all the evil go away.
Bring back the days, when we loved, when we were safe, to walk and feel happy each and every day.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
They’ve built bridges
wanting to cross them
to conquer the other side
where the grass is greener.
They want what they can’t see
and will go to great lengths
to lay claim to the other side
where the sky is ever bluer.
Men’s dreams entice them
to reach out to distant shores
convinced what lies beyond
is infallibly better.
AP: 2nd place 2026
How many to follow
How many to listen
How many to read
How many to understand
How many to remember
How many to talk
How many to contact
How many to suggest
How many to cry
How many to argue
How many to offend
How many to compromise
How many to sacrifice
Isn’t there any end to them?
Can’t have an independent opinion?
This poem is an Acrostic Monorhyme
C onstant fear tactics are employed
O vertake the many freedoms once enjoyed
N ever any love there is a void
S ystem is so broken our souls so often toyed
U nsavoury propaganda regularly deployed
M any regulations are you feeling much annoyed?
E very government organisation, ethics so devoid
R eturn to honesty joy and laughter society would be buoyed
S eek a haven all these shackles to avoid
From humans i can get many opinions.'
Yet only in God will i get the real solutions.)
how many clowns can a clown car hold?
They began to get out, some had to unfold
I counted six, seven, eleven, up to ninety-nine
Then I lost count, which was in some way fine.
The bright lights flair, outshine the stars.
Your laughter leads me in their sway,
Past ticket booths and candy jars.
We miss our footing, hand in hand,
Leaving the rat-race far away,
We fall like children, down the sand.
The carousel spins horse and mane,
Prances and canters on display
To "Yippee!", "Yahoo!", once again.
The roller coaster swirls its arc,
Climbs up, then drops, without delay,
Leaving our screams, lost in the dark.
The Ferris wheel turns crystal pods,
Stealing our breath with its display
Of all the lights, beheld by gods.
The gates swing shut, the lights burn low,
Yet we still yearn to ride and play,
For lovers, tumble as they go.
.
thuh hasn't
bard
start'did
count'en
theirn (he eve'z ,)>
meanz
in an already crowded
canvas, and sure-
cornered life
Why do I put a Calvin
(drew, colored, cut out)
whistling
on top of my impressionist
lake watercolor
that my mother told me
needed fine-tuning?
I never made a small impression
I was always a little too loud
I combined colors and sounds
violently
I look like Annie Hall on Monday,
Frida Kahlo on Tuesday,
A hungover Greta Garbo on Wednesday,
Jack Black's twin-sister on Thursday,
a menopausal mess of me on Friday,
and the weekend is simply
a free-for-all
Why can't I love
peacefully?
The whales call their calves
in clicks, and know it better
than I do, up here
A tall Tree with lush-green leaves in my backyard,
standing upright like an umbrella gives me shade,
refuge to countless birds and squirrels.
Heart-wrenching tune created by a musician from the strings of a Veena,
surreal temple chimes serenading to the horizon,
soothing birdsongs at every dawn in summer,
chirping by homecoming birds at vermillion dusk,
emerald waves lapping on the amber seashore….
collecting seashells from the sand I walk on barefoot,
watching snow falling incessantly and
creating silvery laces on the roof-tops,
All these and many more,
makes my heart melt and feel serenely thankful.
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