Life is far from easy breezy
We work we toil we suffer
We dream we climb we fall
Happiness measured in moments
is gathered as precious gems
to be cherished in our mind
AP: 3rd place 2026
It’s pretty obvious that dogs are simple
Yet alert and engaged creatures.
They live in the moment
And are alive to everything that fills their senses.
In this they are like most animals.
What I often wonder is what do they get from us,
Us with our sense of abstract time
And third person perspective?
Does this perspective rub off on them,
Bleed into their minds the way other mental illnesses
Can become contagious?
Since they are such great empaths
Do they get a sense of our otherness
Our uniquely differentness
Which we call consciousness
And value so highly?
Or are they actually not so different than us,
Conscious but not egotistically so
More like dog-like
Simple and honest, enthusiastic and something
We humans seem to find so difficult,
Relaxedly so.
(10/3/26)
Nothing could be heard
Prepared for bed all alone
Reflective mirror thoughts occupy the mind
Give silver chalice a rub
Conjuring commitment stone
Nothing could be heard
Curiosity invades
Throwing a bone
Reflective mirror thoughts occupy the mind
Winter cold soon will arrive
Mumbling a grumbling groan
Nothing could be heard
Outside a crispy leaf drop
Destination known
Reflective mirror thoughts occupy the mind
Future cannot stop
Google AI on the cell phone
Nothing could be heard
Reflective mirror thoughts occupy the mind
They warn about the mess inside,
The clutter in my head,
The sheer accumulated grime
Where thoughts are left unmade.
I stress about some unpaid bills,
Then let the dust repose,
A muddy swamp of open tabs,
And piles of laundry clothes.
I thought about a sandwich crust
I dropped a week ago,
Still lingering in a dark abyss
Where no one dares to go.
A soil of half-remembered names,
And crumbs of useless facts,
Unswept, unscrubbed, unpolished thoughts,
And overdue tax acts.
So if you say my mind is foul,
You’ve hit the nail right squarely—
It hasn't seen a broom or mop,
And frankly, cleans up rarely.
You thought I meant a different dirty?
Get your head out of the gutter!
My brain is just a dusty room
Full of trash and clutter.
(with thanks to Sylvia Fricker, who wrote "You Were On My Mind" in 1961)
Well I woke up this morning.
Yes, you seemed to be there.
Just as it happens so early every day -
you were definitely on my mind.
And I remember those words from that song
that talks of waking up in the morning
with troubles and with worries,
with someone on my mind.
And I forget who you are.
Are you my troubles and my worries?
Have I wriggled in my sleep and not known it?
Does it happen every night?
Were you there, watching?
I woke up this morning.
I remember the song: yes:
you were on my mind.
So how much did I wriggle?
And how much were you there?
(written 3 Oct 2026)
The Quiet Sovereign
by Christopher Haywood
2 October 2026
A thunderous speech can fill the space,
And shake the rafters, loud and proud,
Directing every turned-up face,
To sway the court and move the crowd.
It claims the air, it claims the hall,
With ringing words that heavily fall—
A passing wave that fills it all,
Then fades into a hollow sigh.
Yet when the bluster breaks away,
And heavy stillness settles in,
A deeper presence comes to stay,
Beneath the quiet, past the din.
For noise can rule the physical space,
And capture every wandering eye,
But silence meets you face to face,
Where no conviction fits a lie.
The loud voice commands the room;
The clear silence commands the mind.
She has meadows in her mind;
Each new flower is an original thought.
The sun sets as beautifully as it rises;
A wonderful breeze, as crisp as the sea, dancing with her auburn hair.
I sit and watch the lapping waves in her sapphire eyes,
And for I moment i think see her-
The girl I long to be
The girl I wish was there when i looked in the mirror.
I rub my eyes as I awake,
Realizing that being the girl with meadows in her mind,
Will always be a distant dream .
Forever in my gaze;
Yet just out reach.
You have a feeling, or a talk…
Neither, though, are what you want.
Or you see something, or you hear;
Still, doesn’t seem right…
Yet, you’d still wanna know,
What your mind, or heart, won’t show…
Anyway, carry on, but still keep the walls on.
At the end of the day, when you’ll try to listen either way,
Just… don’t listen, there’s no solution,
Do what either mind or heart say.
---
vol 3, Maybe Dark, or Not… Maybe…
‘The world is upside down’
‘It’s topsy-turvy’
‘Things will never be the same again’
Lines heard everywhere we turn
Is it really so?
Are their proponents in the know?
Or do they loutish parrot
what on screens we stare at?
Block out the vitriolic noise
Knead the contours of your heart
Soothe and smooth your mind, from the mundane depart
Alive once again ~ for life is art
Never mind my suffering
Oh, my love
Never more
I visited your city, your life
But never mind
Look, just watch, your creature
Broken life, destroyed heart
But never mind
From now a killer kind
Oh, my only love!
But never mind
Do not worry about my life!
Never fear this bad style
Do not feel, do not eat!
I just loved
You
Forget it, keep it in mind
Oh
Never mind
Never mind!
Love you
Never mind
Goodbye
But
Never mind
I was tying my shoes
Wrapped with thoughts of death
Wondered if the stone beneath me
Would appreciate the human dire
Splashed over it like ketchup
And no, it wasn’t thoughts of suicide
For I know death is not really what I want
Maybe I do write letters sometimes
About my last day on this ground,
but they're just words caused by pain
And yet I can’t help but wonder
If murderers do feel fear when they kill
I wonder if the sin of lying is equal to killing
Higher, through this loftier
Discretion of mind
Than what does flash, sky-winging
To Earth's space confined
Places one, which bright state in
Is joy's true Heaven.
Clearer, purer. Whose source is
God. Ever risen.
Lyre-clasping, a warbler, too
Myself, of love songs.
Miss, smiling meek, attested!
Which trait there belongs!
The borders fell like fever from a long-tormented frame,
No steel was turned, no legions marched, no decree spoke their name.
For when the node of silver wood began its quiet rise,
The phantom lines of sovereign pride dissolved before their eyes.
The ancient ghosts of territory, of fortress, and of crest,
Like winter frost before the sun, sank deep into the breast.
The pain that once had armed the hand and built the concrete wall
Was opened to the anchor node, unmetered, shared by all.
A mother’s cry in Sector One, the drought of Sector Four,
No longer stopped at checkpoints or the barricaded door.
The collective mind, in empathy, received the bitter sting,
And wove the ache of centuries into a single string.
Where once the barbed dividers stood to guard the hollow grain,
Now surged a tide of healing hands to wash away the stain.
The map of old Vaeloria, where blood-bought nations bled,
Became a tapestry of care, by quiet mercy fed.
No citizen was left an island, stranded in their grief;
The shared scar of the species brought its ultimate relief.
I awake and here I am,
naught but a mere mortal man.
Why came I this weak way,
restrained in fragile skin,
little but stiffened clay,
imprisoned as are all men?
Flesh will away, that soon day,
to the dust where it had been.
Then I will really be Me,
with mind and soul soaring free.
- Darrell Simmerman copyright 2024
Sprightly walk on landing,
then I step down each rung,
with habitual due dispatch,
an enthusiastic heart beats,
mind awash with apt fervour,
whilst fixating on elation,
that weaves rose bud tints,
to dawn townscape purliue,
on a fair earthborn agenda,
whose brief a germ kernel,
mission sprouting benign,
seeds among the coterie,
red sunrise street dwellers,
who sense crimson aura,
a fond radiant saunterer,
that tonic touchstone,
oops .. watch the last step
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