The wind carries your name today—
whispers it through my ribs,
fills the hollow
where breath once flowed.
Is this you
riding the morning currents,
or just my chest
mistaking echo for arrival?
From distant shores
starlings lift and scatter,
their wings dark against the sky.
You ask why warmth abandons my skin?
Love is water leaving the body—
drop by drop
until only the vessel
remembers fullness.
Who opens their lungs before lightning strikes?
Who breathes deep
into a storm's eye
and expects to stay whole?
Your presence moves through smaller beauties
the way wind bends wheat—
everything golden,
everything changed.
My exhale trembles,
tastes your name
on its way to the waiting sky.
In these paradise winds,
between my last breath
and the horizon's quiet answer,
I almost catch you, almost become
the space where air learns touch.
It is what it is
and no mistaking
which no one can deny
by hiding or faking
but if we can
all agree to disagree
and let it be
one day things may
turn out favourably
but the situation currently
is not quite right
in fact it's completely
out of hand
around the world
throughout the land
an act of God is not enough
more than a miracle
is needed
for all mankind
but never heeded
by the powers that be
so now it's up to you and me
Her soul was starved of acceptance
An aching hunger wanting to be fed
Her body weak
Not from the lack of food
But for the lack of love for her skin
Being black meant a life where no matter what she did
She would never win
She couldn't control her race
But she could control her body
She wanted to be invisible
And the only way she could make that happen was to disappear
Her body, her skin, her mind
A place of imprisonment
But she could control how she decorated it
To her that felt like a rebellion
Even if it meant she lost herself
Deep down she knew this wasn't right
But she just didn't want the fight
She was willing to make that sacrifice
With every meal skipped
She got weaker and weaker
Not realising how she was getting closer to death
Mistaking it for freedom
She had got everything she wanted
Just not how she expected
She realised a little too late
How true this statement was
The world wanted her gone
And she had finally given them what they want
The fingers crawled over
my lips, each step a crunch
on my parched soul -
lullaby for my desires
But where’s the wind ?
Where was it, before the drizzle?
The crawl slithered into sleek
curling my lips into his mouth
like a prey, I panted in his loop
struck by the venom of his kiss
I strangled reaching for the antidote
You unheard my Ahhh as -
mistaking it for consent.
My naked body cracked in the sun
frail limbs creeping towards the shade
He snatched me like a predator
engulfed my head and slowly
all of me .
My bones and tendons
all crushed in his muscular coil.
A chill and breath left in me
maybe just for tomorrow.
I swallowed words like razors in the dark,
A thousand cuts across my broken skin,
They told me "silence"—so I hid the spark,
While screaming softly, bleeding deep within.
The mirror lied: it whispered I was whole,
But fractures ran beneath the painted face.
I smiled and nodded, playing the doomed role,
While scars—my silent hymns—betrayed my grace.
They told me love was safe, but it was fire,
A flame that licked and burned my fragile core.
I danced on glass, mistaking wounds for choir,
And sang my pain to walls that asked for more.
Now I refuse the comfort of the lie,
For silence kills, but screaming helps me fly.
Magical Glasses looking within these lenses
That glares through these hidden shadows.
Scenarios of traps, mistaking fantasy, illusion
Selfishness eluded by compulsion yet gracefulness
and mercifulnedd intervene these cloudiness of
these Magical Glasses.
A unique Christmas time for Santa Claus,
fiftieth year of journey without pause.
All gifts he stacks in the cart,
gets ready to soon depart,
he feels for a mishap there is no cause.
On snow-covered track Rudolph runs inspired,
chilled wind on the face, Santa feels he’s tired.
He spots bench in sunny park,
rests there after night’s hard work.
Soon slips into deep sleep though undesired.
Mistaking Santa’s snoring as some blast,
Rudolph thinks danger has arrived at last.
Lets Santa snooze, darts away
with gifts rattling in the sleigh.
Santa wakes up, along the trail runs fast.
drinking the water…
… from his bath…
destroying whatever’s…
… in his path…
mistaking the floor
… for the loo…
whatever’s a parent
… to do?!...
With this advice you’ll agree …
what’s more, it is free …
… tell your terrible two
…to turn three
Thank you for the guilt
you planted in me
for making me worry
for what I never did
for mistaking my intentions
and make me plead
for stealing my confidence
and my peace
Singing is an art
So hard to understand
But let me sing you a song
Of a girl who was greeted by adulthood
Far too soon.
Her young hands tremble
Under the weight of what they carry
A burden she longs to unload
Yet dizziness pulls her back
To the very place where innocence was lost.
On that bed, a faceless man
Crushed her beneath his weight
Her weak legs resisted
But his desire was deaf to her cries
Mistaking her sobs for moans.
No one believes her story.
For there was no face to blame
And fingerprints fade like whispers
So she walks with fists clenched tight
Bearing a burden no one can see.
The lyrics to this song will live on.
My son Scottie and me
Are like two peas in a pod
The word “clone” comes to mind
His humour is the same
His carefree look at life matches mine
There is no mistaking Scottie boy is my son
He's also inherited my creative genes
Following in his Daddy's footsteps
A techie version of his old man
Did I mention I'm proud of my Scottie
Does a bear poop in the woods
Of course I'm proud as a peacock
I love this boy (man)!
Now in his middle sixties and a VP
But he will always be my boy!
What's needed to write good poetry
A vivid imagination and flair
General knowledge and a good vocabulary
Much love and you're almost there
A sense of humour is also important
Each is unique as they say
Adding their own personality to verse
Helps stay ahead of the fray
There's no magic potion one can take
Poetry come from within
There's no mistaking it, you'll surely know
When accolades start pouring in
The thrill you get when someone applauds
It's so very hard to describe
Over the moon is one way of putting it
Feel like you've finally arrived
What's really needed to write good poetry
Dedication, dedication, dedication
A burning desire and a passion for writing
A passion without hesitation
There is so little space I could give in my skies,
Every moon has left a whole cluster of clouds full of lies,
I cannot unclog a product polluted in disguise,
Don’t ask me to lay in your web you chose to improvise ,
I have seen too many oceans being mistreated for wastelands,
So don’t call yourself something that is drowning deep in quicksands,
When you are surrounded with the wind and all it’s forgiving hands ,
Don’t disrupt my diligence by your Petty demands,
Don’t even think about interrupting my silence ,
When all I could hear are traits of unforgiven violence ,
When all I did was extend some guidance ,
And all that lacked was to walk in patience ,
So let’s not speak of the truth ,
The truth which you failed to gift ,
To gift wrap in deceptions,
Deceptions mistaking my kindness for trust ,
Trust lost in your idea of confusion,
Confusion named as “issues”
Issues engraved in broken perspectives,
Perspectives from your cycle of imagination .
Mistaking side by side pluralism
for more resonant
co-infested polyculturalism
Is like mistaking chaotic divisions
for resilient organic complexity,
integral multiplicity
Like only perceiving competitive dissonance
and degenerative
confusion
while missing inside resonant light
regenerating
cooperative mind/body
health/wealth consciousness
Free from win/lose
lack-of-capital-driven anxiety,
Free toward win/win
co-invested anticipation
Dipolar co-arising hope
Left/Right
UpMight/DownTight
root-budding Yang/Yintegral
bilateral balance
Resonantly resilient Way
as a round wombed ch'i
polypathic pole
Holonic joy
of sacred unscared
unscorched Earth
Tribes timeless
unboundaried
win/win paradise,
co-invested bipartisan peace
Warm wombed
multicultural embrace
restoring grace
in some nonviolent inclusive
ecofeminist wombed
fertile green sung
blues danced
LeftHere-RightNow
resonantly resilient
amusing
sacred communion place
Body space
in timeless peaks
of co-infested Yang/Yin
space/time bilateral balancing Way,
EarthTribe universal/unitarian.
A girl ate a hat, what a thrill,
Mistaking it for her contraceptive pill.
In her moment of haste,
A hat she did taste,
Now she's throwing up, her tummy's bloated still!
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