“Supplicants, bring forth your offerings”
“Your Majesty, I bring encouragement”
“Your Highness, I bring optimism”
“I, Your Awesomeness, bring unbounded joy”
“Your Honor, I bring dinner from my wife”
“What? Dinner from your wife? What kind of offering is that, knave?”
“Well, it certainly is no sacrifice, sir!”
I sing yet no response.
It's lonely out here in the wild.
Resolved to find my mate.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Insecurity..
An agent of persuasion
For a separate one..
All storyland
Of course..
Insecurity names a
Condition which seems
To apply to a character
Who reacts..and
It might be a best-seller!
Have you ever felt testy, nerves on the edge,
waiting on the next person, to push you over the edge.
How we lay in wait, then our traps we spring,
knowing exactly, what it’s about to bring.
Our guns are loaded, we’re ready for a bear,
we know what we are about to do, and yet we don’t care.
It’s over and over, and time after time, you see,
how the works of darkness, uses you and me.
And though it makes us feel better, we truly die within,
not ever seeing, it’s the working of sin.
I know these words are heavy, but they are also true,
look inside your heart, the truth’s inside of you.
I say these things, to trim your wick, so your light can show,
the ways of the Lord, in which we are to grow.
The truth might hurt, but it will heal all wounds, you see,
for where we let the light in, the darkness cannot be.
ocean's dominion
waves strength midst gift of God's might*...
reigning with life's wealth
*1 Peter 5:7 Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.
July 25, 2026
3rd place, "Nature haiku - Ocean, Lake or River" Haiku Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin; judged on 8/2/2026
What makes a girl say “I’m bipolar.”
Those green lights sure were rusty.
And my car seemed to grow rusty with that shimmer.
And you go on through 1400 poems while being bipolar.
As you roar.
Like a scratchy spot you shook hands with.
Ummm.
No one really asked if I was.
They just slammed nothing-pages at my feet.
I might be bipolar.
At some point I glommed onto that green light.
Lights, and lights, and lights.
You got through poems being bipolar.
Yes, girl I did.
You’ll be bipolar no matter what kind of car you drive.
Or what kind of lights come next.
Oh ye pomp which circumstances robe
that thy ignorance treasures ye in tribe
Naked her submissive body wishehes
Pregnancy from me
Yes in all languages si as all can si
Come back to Suuerrentjo
The sweet oranges sing
Tentback the visitor the
Campback of loveliness
___________________________
I planned the suppers of autumn,winter and spring
I planned the breakfasts were
the morning eaters sing
I planned the lunches 365 or 366
Put me in your consideration
Put me in your mix
____________________________________________
Keeping poise in fortune,
Set my heart on entering the fray;
Making courage, control and persistence
My weapon to conquer the affray.
Never will I shrink from obstacles,
Even when they seem like profanity;
The divine light of aspiration endures,
Even the darkest kindle into luminosity.
When thorns filled my path,
Or the vast sea spread its gown,
Even the sun's relentless blaze
Seemed as if heaven had come down.
With The Himalayas as my guide,
I vowed never to retreat;
Making valor, might and endeavour
My weapon to conquer the freight.
Neville is a wonderful man, both parties said in a gushy way
He can meet you at the coffee shop nearly any old day
I was not ready to date, and made excuses, one after another
These friends were quite pushy, more than my godmother.
Six months later I agreed to meet this virtuous man.
He is a Viking, but he won’t tell you this, said my old Gran.
He did not have to tell me. His attire spoke for itself.
He was wearing enough armor to line a long shelf.
His beard was enormous, and he had a helmet with horns, two.
His war paint, metal cuffs and a copper shield were a tip off too.
If he is hiding the fact he is a Viking, he is not doing a good job.
We had one thing in common, we both have a neighbor named Bob.
autumn might be here
grass has turned a pinkish brown
dead leaves everywhere
the little girl was lost on Halloween night
she might have had a fright; she might have had a fright
but she found a man with a heart who treated her right
his name was Pumpkin Head Bill, and he was a sight
Others might have been afraid of this scary looking guy
But this little girl touched his heart with a teensy sigh
I am lost, I need to find home, she told this ghoulish man
He steered her across the moors and took her home to her gran
With brazen might and courage strong
A sword is raised the widow’s song
What right has man to undermine
The artists gift’s still standing strong
A lover’s song in midnight oil
Abuse my mind begins to coil
Great Picasso tameless strong
Why must thoughts be sometimes wrong
The storm of undermining dreams
The pain of less defining screams
A broken heart takes time to mend
Our words can be a weapons friend
Green fingernails
She stares into the night
A thinker thinking in her plight
They fought instead of having fun
He broke his lovers loving sun
And now she stares the thinker see’s
The statues of the times gone past
The thinker thinks and so does she
Then locked in pain
She was not free.
Picasso played the torment song
Dora Maars was hurt by words
Picasso’s lady fingers green
Now stares with thoughts we cannot see
Passover ends in two more days
to my shouts of Hip, Hip, Hooray
One more day of matzo might not kill me
but if this be freedom, give me bread ~ and slavery
Fallacies rampart unto your face,
let them not, bring u any disgrace
For, the peregrination is untold
Staff of benediction, must you hold
TO reach THE ZENITH,
festooned with GOLD!
Jimmy was reluctant to go to the Halloween party that night.
He was a sensitive guy, who could be fooled; he often jumped in fright.
Will it be spooky? He asked his cousin, who told him a big lie.
She actually wanted her roommate to meet Jim; he was such a great guy.
His eyes had to adjust to the dark; the party was a dance going strong.
He saw a gorgeous woman standing under the punch bowl a bit too long.
He went to join her and was mesmerized by her beauty; she was gorgeous.
She wore a helmet turning her into Medusa, six giant snakes in a fuss.
Not frightened at all, Jimmy invited her to dance, which was rare.
By the end of the evening, he was ever so glad to be there.
Next day at lunch, Jim lamented that he did not know Medusa's name.
His cousin was smirking, because he had actually met the right dame.
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