A speck of dust upon the moss,
A tiny life the breezes toss,
Too small for any passing eye,
Beneath the wide and heavy sky.
It has no stem to proud upright,
No brilliant petals catching light,
No perfume drifts across the lake,
Where sleeping frogs and ripples wake.
Yet Wolffia drifts, a microscopic dot,
Upon the still pond's quiet spot,
No roots to anchor in the silt,
No green and spreading leaves to wilt.
A speck of green, a simple grain,
Untouched by heavy summer rain,
Two grains of salt could match its weight,
So small it mocks the grand and great.
Through needle eyes its frame could slide,
Like quiet hurts we lock inside,
A single stamen, lonely fruit,
An empire built without a root.
The busy bee goes buzzing by,
To seek the garden's painted crowd,
And misses where the treasure lies,
Concealed from all impatient eyes.
Whole ages fade and cities rust,
While mountains crumble into dust,
The loudest voices fade away,
Like shadows at the end of day.
For greatness is not born of might,
Or standing tallest in the light,
The weary heart can still endure,
With quiet steps, and purposes pure.
T'was criminal being so short.
That miniskirt's surely guilty of causing whiplash.
Nobody dared try stop it.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
A school office.
A chair.
A boy.
A strained smile,
Owned by the principal,
He claims this was not an easy decision
He pretends to care -
The boy is expelled.
Distraction, aggressive, non-compliant
Nothing more, nothing less,
His crime: a multitude of reasons
A perfect score on his test,
Impossible, he is miles further than the rest -
Of the class,
He claims it is suspicious
Boys like ‘him’ don’t usually achieve success
Next -
Yelling at the the teacher,
For making multiple insensitive comments
Micro-aggressions passing for ‘truth’
The teacher, has a history of complaints,
From fellow black youths.
The teacher is white -
We already know whose side the principal will choose
These were never crimes,
They just couldn’t buy the black boys silence -
So they resort to calling him violent
The principal stands up,
He claims there is nothing he can do
That is a lie, we all know the truth,
He just couldn’t control the black student
I live on an island in the Pacific region
The largest body of water is the OCEAN
Like, can we be more Pacific?
I think Christopher Columbus got lost
Because the directions were not pacific
Oh, excuse me, the Pacific Ocean
Where you will find the small islands (Micronesia)
Where you will find the black islands (Melanesia),
Where you will find the many islands (Polynesia)
Generally, the islanders are like coconuts
So hard on the outside
But succulent on the inside
Yet they always end up wanting Samoa
Get this,
An assault by an Islander
is called a Hawaiian Punch
At times, these islands need a therapist when they are in a tropical depression
Some islands have sunk
Oh no do not laugh
That is not funny atoll
Sea yourself out
Therefore, I live on an island
A small island
I am a MICRO
I mean, how can I get more pacific than that?
Soft sunlight warms
an empty morning.
Memory hums below
like distant footsteps.
A hush gathers —
then lingers in my chest.
A few weeks ago I stopped
smoking pot as an experiment.
Easier than I thought-
I’ve had practice. Depth
of feeling starts coming back
like micro-bullets to the cranium
so invisible to the naked eye that
every corner shields a perpetrator.
Part of me likes it, this blitz of feeling
because it turns out I’m masochistic
like that and feeling a pinch dead
gets boring after awhile. Creeps
up on you like an unwanted flat-
mate on a sock by sock flit
to your only spare room and you didn’t
even notice for the cupcakes.
But granted, everybody’s different.
Did you know that the worst
time to have a heart attack
is during a game of charades?
Demetri Martin said that.
A few weeks ago I wouldn’t
have laughed.
Yesterday I did.
(To be sang to the tune of "In The Navy"
By 'The Village People')
In the Micro
Is where we put the milky tea.
In the Micro
To make it hot as it can be.
In the Micro
One minute is all it needs.
In the Micro! In the Micro!
In the Micro
Is where we thicken up the soup.
In the Micro
To give it the finest gloop.
In the Micro
Helps to flavour it up more
In the Micro! In the Micro!
In the Micro
For this is the only way,
In the Micro
To get the porridge right each day.
In the Micro
Be it salty, be it sweet.
In the Micro! In the Micro!
In the Micro
If your dinner does get cold,
In the Micro
Even if it's a day old,
In the Micro
You might just save your meal
In the Micro! In the Micro!
Our numbers still they grow and grow
But on finite planet
What can we do; which way to go
So on earth we all fit?
Our numbers we cannot reduce
For then we go backwards.
So we must further reproduce
To continue forwards.
There seems to be no equation
So we ask our A.I.
Can it offer a solution?
And tell us what to try.
Perhaps we tweak our DNA
And make humans micro.
Now this could be our only way.
Let’s think of future show.
Micro people would consume less
When just few inches tall.
This would reduce pollution mess.
Our impact would be small.
It is the rational way to go.
We must downsize to fit.
And our numbers can further grow
On our future planet.
Maybe it’s better to leave you untarnished;
The brightest light, my darkest fantasy.
Play with new words like a french kiss with your tongue.
in a world of information overload
it's refreshing to be succinct
in a few words to pass a message so punchy
that it gives one cause for a pause
in a world where time is at a premium
it's appreciated to be respected
to share what one has to say with panache
and every word striking its mark
being sold on the notion that less is more
AP: 1st place 2025, 1st place 2022
And then all at once someone
could see just how tired I was …
Devilish details;
Torn up jeans paired with
an 800 dollar custom ring,
It takes work to look this carefree.
I could be persuaded to stay
if you were persuaded to play
me like you do that guitar…
You blissfully bring out the child in me
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