By our village home perched on a green plateau low
a sparkling brook meandered like a garland to flow.
On its waters paper boats I at five sailed with glee
to distant dreamland configured in my infant fantasy.
At fifteen and in teens to study seriously I was told,
for that shaped what the future for me would hold.
Between study and play I carefully divided time spell.
My strategy worked for in the exams I did fairly well.
At thirty to curve the tough career course I was busy,
in the competitive world that for me was not easy.
The onus of raising the family I also needed to face.
I felt happy that this I could do well by God’s grace.
At fifty when I was scaling career’s challenging height
the coming retirement days loomed large in my sight.
With the children settled and gone on their own ways
I planned well for me and my wife to meet those days.
At seventy I felt I was walking on the last mile track,
but with the life spent I was contended looking back.
I thanked God for gifting me new days’ sunrise to see,
pondered when the fated end would come to take me.
The mortal extraction of your consciousness.
Each word hums through my blood, the slaps of silvers coaxing the cries of my crimson.
A label of eternity, meandered into the muster of your grime, breathing my bond to life.
The bond of my cease.
The bond of my desire.
The bond of my boon.
The serenity of your essence sprouts my veins; a constant bourgeon to the yield of my being.
I am bound to the tranquillity of your solitude.
Each kiss a desperate gasp for something but the void of my arteries.
Each kiss a piteous offering for something but the eternity of my devotion.
Each kiss an awaited bequest for something other than the relict of my bloodline.
I am yours.
A previous assertion to the testimony of your love.
A current avowal to the testimony of your pledge.
A future declaration to the testimony of your tenure.
Belonging is a concept etched into the dejection of my skin; a belonging embedded within each breath, sending way to the rock of my revolve.
I love you.
Though, three syllables will never be enough to articulate the exploitation of my dread, forever marred within the lines of my shambles.
Yet, even then,
I love you, my moon.
Union Station, Washington, D.C., 2026
A lazy bunch of
worthless pogues,
the old, disgruntled
soldier cried,
leaning on his cane
as he made his way
through Union Station.
The National Guard
meandered around—
laughing, talking,
and looking at their phones.
“I bet you’ve never
seen a day of combat,
never had bullets fired
at you on a mission.
Yet you will brag
about the war you wage
against your own people.”
There's another man my age
On the other side of town.
He's got my face, my exact face.
Our back accounts are different.
For all I can tell, his car is nice.
Married, big happy family.
His jokes are the same as my jokes.
I saw him at a cafe yesterday.
I was sitting with my daughter.
He was sitting with his son.
For a moment we made eye contact.
He laughed through it
Pitching his head back,
Sustaining the contact with me,
His doppelganger.
Then back to his son,
Then me back to my daughter.
Yesterday I watched him get on a plane to Wichita,
Hugging good-bye to his wife and kids at the gate.
There goes my face, I thought, off to Kansas.
Doors closed as the plane taxied away
And his sad family meandered.
"Daddy!" yelled his youngest
Spotting me behind the fern
50 ft away in front of
Fern Gully's Gastropub.
Her future foretold by random gypsies
Tippy meandered east to Poughkeepsie
She fell in love there
Grew out her blonde hair
Took a liking to drink ~ now she’s ‘Tipsy’
Light kissed the buds of mallow
And welcomed an autumn bloom;
The cups that'd lain so shallow
Sprung forth and blushed anew.
It meandered as flowing water
Over the peaks one by one -
Spilling into a tankard
And joining more in tandem.
Every sparkle on the mounds
That captures my curious eye
Is one of some polished diamonds
For me to gaze at and sigh.
I meandered in a quiet loop of forever,
Over the bridge in the hush of dusk,
Beyond the ageless cradle,
Hunting myself I left behind.
Was it really there?
And then I realized,
Even the compass has forgotten my name.
As I left breadcrumbs in the storm,
Every path whispered a maybe!
People?
Gone, as a drizzle beneath the summer sun,
None stayed long enough -
Because I was smiling behind all that ache.
Halfway there,
To a place I have only felt in silence,
To peace that may not exist at all,
Just in case IT IS there.
I am spent,
Because the rose I carry dug its thorns into me.
Yet the hope breathes through every thread of blood... And that...
Is enough.
ladybugs riding bicycles passed me
as I meandered toward forest’s hollow tree
two of them waved, three kept pedaling
in the lives of the fey, I was now meddling
tiny violets gave me a dance of glee
riding ladybugs were joined by gremlins three
we are enroute, we are on our way!
blue faeries cheered and yelled “hooray!”
My mission was to warn the faerie queen.
about brownies with mischief seldom seen
They had bad intent in their hearts, some said.
I found her sitting in an enormous flower bed.
I gave her the warning, wondering if it was true.
She bestowed upon me a bit of her flowers’ dew.
The ladybugs were milling around, showing off their dots.
Gremlins three were lying in cushiony cots.
highland bull came to us on a lovely spring day
we could tell by his high kicks he was ready to play
a pink butterfly with plethora of dots futtered his way
He was not shy in giving her a “hey, hey, hey, hey!”
Wondered if he had wandered from the Meadows in Bray
Had no idea how to get him back there that day
A full schedule meant he would have to stay and play
We did give him feed, and a soft pace to lay
The pallet we made him was filled with the softest hay
Not his fault he is lost, said my cousin Lucie McKay
When we returned from work, he had meandered away
We were thrilled we had a Highland Bull for almost a day
She wished neither to be loved
or adorned
yet wished for the tresures
that Lovers deserve
and those who are adorned
receive as gifts.
He wished for someone
who loved him in
needed him could only disappoint
but being valued as loved
he could be man enough for her
There personalities clashed
and were completely opposite of
one another and often out of sync
Echoes the nights
were the need of
being loved has him
lonley and unwanted
yet she finds reasons
to need things
they sparkle
to shine for others
to admire her
Echoes the Nights
when the things that
posses me
are thetrickets
that give him way to
me
might I suffer
to need her to
love me
He is neither neglected
or has Love faded
we exist to co-mingle
and habitat
Kisses and whispers
might arouse a need in me
that he may belive
to be his vision of Love
He cries
Yes sometimes
The memory burnt in
Hot iron press into his weak mind
He saw the flowers yet again
Some bustling with life
Half drooping and dying diligently
And he saw
Theres something sinister in the mind
When you realize you near the end of a chapter
All you can do is read on until it ends
...
Well what if you dont want it to end
Stopping reading would be stopping everything
And reading is your life
Escaping or reality of the mind
He knew he was nearing the end of that chapter
All he wanted was to hold on
Read a little bit slower
So mabye
Just mabye
He could enjoy his comfort for a little bit longer
See he is plagued
Not with a disease no
But with foresight
He knew again it was ending
And it ended
And it broke him
All he could see were the flowers
Tears meandered the regular path on his dry cheek
He could still see it
As he slowly forgot her face
The flowers
Sitting atop the dresser
From the rising sun in the east
To casted shadows after dark in the west,
Our tribal marked faces show,
A timeless story, aglow.
Seasons come and go,
Hiding shades and dimmed sparks.
Beneath the sprawling swamps,
Cornering meandered mangroves,
Our roots run deep,
Anchored in attires of legacy.
Our heads see without light,
Guided by old wisdom unspoken.
Truth and strength wrap us,
Like leaves hiding the stem,
This binding keeps us to mother earth,
Fatherland, and to each other.
The river Nun whispers
Future tales of our past,
Her ebb and flow carry songs of joy,
Of resilience, of hope.
Wells oiled to bustle with life,
Echoing voices of a southern people united,
Crafting stories with each fishing net,
With each catch and harvest,
With each chant that shakes the air.
We stand with one another,
As trees in a forest,
Strong and steadfast,
Each branch reaching,
Each leaf singing,
Together in harmony,
Brothers and sisters fit to guide,
The new call of the river Nun.
Sitting attentively on a rickety park bench
My thoughts are as deep as an ocean trench
People scurrying aimlessly about their daily lives
In time, they’ll fade too, among the archives
I notice a young family, a dog and a cat
After drawing a last breath, what awaits after that?
Billions departed throughout the lineage of man
Bygone times, forgotten lives; been quite the span.
What is the meaning of life in this place?
Why have some never shared a loving embrace?
How many souls have meandered here?
Each with their own struggles to persevere
Who shall soar to heaven and who shall not?
Will some scorch in hellfire in flames molten hot?
Are we amid a spiritual war for our soul?
The weight of such questions takes its toll
I pray that together; we can make it in the end
To a realm without fear, we’ll blissfully ascend
The righteous, the tainted, and all in between
In a land of eternal peace, pure and serene
Ah Kite! Kite with the golden wings, this wet clouded noon hour
Shed tears no more soaring higher and higher, by the river Dhansinri!
The croon in thine voice reminds me of her gloomy eyes, runs along into fading
Likewise the princesses of this world , she meandered a far, beauty , her carved tracks along
Why buzzing to remembrance once in back? Who would long for a heartache
digging into the wounded soul!
Ah Kite! Kite with the golden wings, this wet clouded noon hour
Shed tears no more, soaring higher and higher, by the river Dhansinri!.”
under a sullen moon
silence hovered
my mind meandered
the two soon
inextricably
entwined
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
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