I sat again on that old broken bench at the park,
Watching birds, people, and the last rays of the sun fade by,
Remembering our final words—spoken so far from kind.
A single tear I had to shed for the moments lost in time.
The skies turned suddenly ominous, though I knew not why—
But by the grace of God, a little girl smiled, ever so bright,
And I finally realized: forgiveness is not so far behind.
ARE WE JUST GOING IN CIRCLES ?
Unless influenced by change.
A path to face a case of spirals in space.
she is an oak tree
roots drink storms in deep silence
still she shades the dawn
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.
The earth has songs
of times before you can imagine,
the reminiscing and longing,
the memories of the ages.
The waters sing
their melancholy moan,
the ocean reverberates
of the things long gone.
The winds sing,
whistling their tune
of joy, fury, and sorrow
being shared in the now.
The skies sing,
the thunder crackles,
beginning the tale
of that which is to come.
The earth has songs
of times before you can imagine.
The reminiscing and longing,
the memories of the ages.
Can you hear it?
Just listen.
the mist attenuates mountains until distance inherits the burden of lost memory
A One-liner
Contest Judged: 8/28/2026 12:49:00 AM
Sponsored by: Suzette Richards
(1st Place)
Even when they do seem to know
that they are already truly free
It seems that the sacred doe below
will show them what the Fae see
The wildflowers will still bloom
and our local creatures will be
Happy on Earth where there's room
for Nature's full glory to be seen
DOUBLE COVERAGE
A bright sunshine day…
Fallen leaves cover the ground…
God’s love covers us…
I found it by accident~
a shimmer in the air,
a thin silver seam
stitched between two ordinary moments.
The wind paused,
holding its breath
as the world bent slightly,
like a page turning itself.
I stepped closer.
The seam widened~
a quiet, glowing doorway
opening into a forest
I had never seen
yet somehow remembered.
Trees looked like columns,
their bark filled with lavender fire.
Leaves drifted down
in slow spirals of gold,
each one humming
a note of welcome.
A river of light
threaded through the undergrowth,
its surface rippling
with reflections of stars
that weren’t in the sky.
I crossed the threshold
and felt the soft rearranging
of everything I thought was real.
Behind me,
the seam closed
with a gentle sigh,
but the forest remained,
alive in my pulse,
glowing in the quiet places
of my mind.
And now I move
with a hidden threshold
woven through my ribs~
subtle proof
that the world stretches farther
than its sun-bleached hours,
that enchantment lingers
in the slender hollows
where wonder leans forward
and parts the veil.
—The Blade of Grass—
I sought no empyrean throne beyond the wheeling blue,
But found one adamantine dewdrop trembling in the grass.
It did not scintillate.
It beheld me.
Then every pinion became articulate flame;
The raven's augury, the blackbird's argent hymn,
Were borne upon one unoriginate Breath I could not name.
I watched the lion heave the primordial wind,
The lamb receive its inviolate ordinance.
Neither litigated Eternity.
Rain descended remembering firmament.
The brook relinquished its mountain,
Yet bore its genesis.
Then desolation entered.
No seraph sundered the stillness.
One mortal hand entered mine.
Its benignity outshone
The constellated treasury of heaven.
That night the firmament exhaled one eternal Breath.
The stars did not descend.
The earth ascended.
The adamantine dewdrop withdrew from the blade of grass.
Since then—
Wherever aught lives—
Or abides—
I have never again encountered a universe bereft of God.
Far below the arguments of gulls,
beneath the commerce of waves,
there stands a library built of coral and silence.
Its shelves contain no books.
Instead, each volume is a memory
the world misplaced.
The first laugh of a child
whose name has long dissolved from stone.
The fragrance of an orchard
uprooted before photography.
The final dream of a sailor
who mistook the moon for a harbor.
Patient octopi tend the collection,
dusting absence from forgotten years.
No visitors arrive.
Yet every century,
a whale pauses beside the entrance,
sings a note older than history,
and another memory returns home.
Meanwhile, we above
continue calling ourselves the custodians of knowledge,
unaware how much wisdom
the ocean keeps from our reach.
as nature gathers
layers of quiet,
the heart is mended
by Your compassion
This little fleeting fleck of time we share
Suspended breath caught in frosty air
The Morning Glory trumpets the dawn
But withers and wilts by late afternoon
And we too are but a sigh of a moment
Lost in the passing wind sojourned
A momentary glint in Nature’s eye
We carry our burden of ephemerality
Like a Mayfly circling its solitary day
We flutter and flap between birth and
Death our little gains and tiny failures
Buried in the deep earth of nothingness.
Round and round the seasons blink
See the corn turn gold from green
Touch the silent river eddies
Twisting down to the brawling sea
The surging marauding bully surf
Molesting the stubborn granite rock
These primordial foes will never chime
Trapped between lightening and thunder
Their tussle is the earth’s oldest paradigm
And we in our little moment stand small
On the shifting sands all our endeavours
Are dissolved by the folding waves of time.
Even when in dream
And all the more
Life be not what it seem
But lo, a revolving door
And we step thro’ without knowing
What awaits the other side
A silent horizon; a twilight glowing—
Or a teary long-distance call—
That lets us know,
A dear friend has died.
And the tears we cried as we’d decide
They are better off, now the pain is gone,
Or fool our own selfish desire
To have them yet by your side,
To laugh as we once laughed,
And cry as we once cried.
To fold ourselves within each others lives,
And giveth a hope that beyond all, love survives—
Death and every end we perceive;
The sun setting in a bitter eve,
From which, we lift our heads from the drowning dread
And lay ourself down to bed,
With the memories that brought us the most joys;
The golden years when we fought over toys
And relented in “sorries” said,
The best of best friends,
And to the later love we were led.
Let love transcend—
Let sorrow say it’s last goodbyes,
We’ll always have yesterday
Till alas,
Our ancient flower,
Our destiny—
Blooms and hitherto dies.
(and gods little bee, with pollen, flies)
I hear an ode to joy break forth,
in tune with sun arising
above the earthly swarth,
the little bird know naught of horrid war,
the simple song is its single chore~
an innocent melody of pure delight
reaching even unto heaven’s golden height.
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