I can’t understand you
I can’t understand life
I can’t understand the love
Just looking for you
Hmm, my hoped love
Memory from my past
I will get you
I want you
The Lady
From Hungary
I know
You read
Yes, how can I apologize for the delay?
I took my confession to you
You say it is too late
No, it’s not late
We live together
In the time
It’s our time
Okay, I know
Passed years behind
Yes, love
Beautiful love
But living
Opener of my heart
Lives for you from afar
The only key to my heart
I love you, but a crypt is my heart
Come in, feel the hellish life
Demonic smell, new desire
My coffin is inside
It’s double, sleep on the right side
We have a wedding bed
Most beautiful, the best!
The gate of a new world
Open the Hell!
We fly there
Understand?
I caught you
No way back
Understand?
Can’t
You can’t
I'm the driver
Satan asked
You
To me
Forever
Question
Answer
Can’t understand
What I Would Tell My Fourteen-Year-Old Self
You are not late to your becoming.
The mirror is a passing witness.
Loneliness will unclench its hands.
Your tears are training you in courage.
Keep every page you ache to write.
Those words will anchor your pulse.
No one gets to measure your worth.
Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
Contest Title: ONE ON ONE WITH MYSELF Poetry Contest
Date of Poem: February 18, 2026
Category: OTHER
I am not late
just a flower
learning the language of rain.
Some days I wilt
under quiet expectations,
other days
I surprise myself
with color I didn’t know I carried.
Growth is rarely loud.
It whispers in patience,
in the courage to begin again,
in the choice to hope
even when the soil feels heavy.
So if you find me still becoming,
still stretching toward light,
know this
I am not unfinished.
I am simply
blooming on purpose.
It's this last letter,
I write my sentiments,
I just hope that I'm not late,
To cast and pour my regret,
A once-better curse, I hope to forget.
This is my last letter,
Forever inked and bent,
In words that carry intent,
Baked in choice, soaked in pain,
With each verse, a chance,
For this long rain to end.
Dear beloved, it took its course,
I hope this finds you well...
It took shape without force,
An ocean vast with thought,
A sincere reflection of emotion,
Was my goal, with each tear that flowed.
The tears insisted a continuation,
Not a pause, not prose alone.
The lines resisted the halt,
Trapped behind a cracked dam
A seal upon these feelings,
Now deep and strong.
It's this last letter,
I write my sentiments,
I just hope that I'm not late,
To cast and pour my regret,
A once-better curse,
I hope to forget.
This is my last letter,
Forever inked and bent,
In words that carry intent,
Baked in choice, soaked in pain,
With each verse, a chance,
For this long rain to end.
Dear beloved, it took its course,
I hope this finds you well...
It took shape without force,
An ocean vast with thought,
A sincere reflection of emotion,
Was my goal, with each tear that flowed.
The tears insisted a continuation,
Not a pause, not prose alone.
The lines resisted the halt,
Trapped behind a cracked dam
A seal upon these feelings,
Now strong and deep at last.
Each year I get a letter
To make sure that I’m not dead.
There must be other ways
To check that info out, instead.
It’s from the T.R.S.*, which holds
Retirement accounts,
Keeping track of teachers’ monies
In their varying amounts.
I guess that sometimes people die
And relatives or friends
Pretend that person’s still alive
To claim those dividends.
So I have to take a picture
Of my government I.D.,
Plus a photo of a newspaper
That’s being held by me.
The headline must be visible
To ascertain the date
And I have to sign a form that says
I’m living and not late.
With A.I. and technology,
It seems that such a shot
Must be easy for someone to fake,
But maybe it is not.
At any rate, I sent the forms
And hope when they arrive,
Whoever checks them out will see
That I am still alive.
*Teachers’ Retirement System
Someone is such as stubborn
It's hard as a granite wall
One such hard pushing to it
Good luck, push hard enough.
What drive you to the steep
When no one else climb to it
Too hard to go against your will
When no one else does.
The mountain enthrall the heart
Adventurer interests to subdue it
Here comes the neophyte lover
Who only wants to satisfy curiosity.
Love is a measure to go beyond
When everyone fails to do so
Life is a perseverance you ought to make
To catch a firefly at night.
You're not late to have company
People take courage in a relationship
Make some noise to make you happy
Hear the Captain calling aboard a ship.
The sea is only for the brave
Who take courage not by chance
The horizon is endless but hopeful
For those who seize for their dream.
The Strawberry Moon
Beneath the glow of the strawberry moon,
Life moves in rhythm — not late, not soon.
Its soft red light up in the sky,
Feels like the hope we hold inside.
It changes shape, like smiles and tears,
Like happy days and hidden fears.
Each part of life, both big and small,
Tells a story — we live it all.
We rise, we fall — we heal, we grow,
We learn so much from all we know.
We laugh, we cry, we lose, we find,
We carry dreams and peace of mind.
Yet still, the strawberry moon will shine,
On broken hearts and healing time.
It shows us: even pain can fade,
And even scars can make us brave.
So when you’re tired or feeling low,
Look at the moon and let it show —
That life moves on, the dark will pass,
And love and light will always last.
They told you the dark was empty,
that space was a cold hush
with nothing to say
but they were wrong.
The silence between stars
is not silence at all,
but a listening
a lullaby wrapped in gravity,
waiting for someone
to call it beautiful.
You, who thought yourself too small,
too broken,
too scattered in thought
you are seen.
You are named.
And the light that shaped you
never forgot.
Even when the world turns away,
even when faith wears thin
like threadbare cloth,
the cosmos hums
with the memory of your being.
Somewhere,
a star holds your breath in its core.
Somewhere,
a planet waits for your step.
You are not lost.
You are not late.
You are not noise in the static.
You are a note in the great chord
still ringing
through the echoing cathedral of time.
And that is enough
to begin again.
The air can be relatively silent
or noiseful wind – sort of like,
flatulence – both blessing and
curse~ depending on where and
when. The who, more often, not
forthright.
Do we wrongly blame
God, for our own airs – what we
take in and give off, lusts of the
appetite, making foul smelling of
an otherwise sacred dwelling?
To my mind, better we
advocate for greener mountains, and less
polluted seas – myself, not so fond of skin ulcers,
burning, blistering pees.
No Second Coming, till our own transformation
Christ is not late
We are….
I dare you to run on__
even when the day is long...
I dare you to be the best version of yourself.
To know you're enough and that you have all your help...
I dare you to hold a smile.
Not care and sit and dream awhile...
I dare you to stay with it.
Especially when the naysayers inveigle you to quit...
I dare you to get in the ring.
Even though you know Goliath is going to take his best swing...
I dare you to keep fasting and praying.
Because rest assured the enemy is out preying and slaying...
I dare you to run on.
I dare you to get on stage and sing your song...
I dare you to be early and not late.
I double dare you to go and be GREAT!
I woke up morning late,
oh, forsake I hope I’m not late.
Black Friday!
It’s that time of year.
The official season for shoppers is here.
I hustle simultaneously with rut of shoppers,
on the road flocking to stores and malls,
while some shop by phones making calls.
To bustle for the best deal to get.
When prices plummet, the steal is set.
I shop like it’s a reality game,
to see how much money I save,
does what consider for me to gain.
That too impulsive will bring buyer pain.
Like a rollercoaster up and down the aisle I peek,
greeting shoppers with smile as I seek.
The aisles are a ruinous display from shoppers.
I am in shattered by the fact,
where on the shelves my item lacks.
I did not consider the timing,
now too late for Christmas finding.
I read but my mind is already occupied,
And so in the subway I ride,
I don’t check the time,
Afraid because it’s not mine.
I leave the subway,
It’s drizzling,
The pavement in return starts glistening.
I think I can make it,
I can’t,
It pours,
I wish I was indoors.
I seek safety underneath a tree full of holes,
There I linger,
Hoping the owners won’t give me the finger.
A runner passes me, she looks so carefree,
I smile, she smiles, I stay, she goes,
I need to go,
I’m going to be late.
It’s still pouring,
I still don’t check the time,
I leave the tree full of holes,
Wishing the clouds had bowls.
I walk with speed,
Seizing the blocks with greed,
I get inside, soaked,
Yet carefree.
I’m not late,
Yet I’m in pieces,
Because the rain ceases.
I am going on a trip to Arkansas
with four friends, all women, older than me
in their seventies; not late, but middle
most of them rarely travel
figuring out a place to stay took four days
I thought we had it on day one
but no one got back to me by text
I finally had to call them and leave voice messages
“the chairs do not look comfortable”, one said.
This was a joke, right?
Afraid not.
We had to find a different place.
She is one of the two who rarely travels.
So we let her choose the place.
One of us is driving, but not me.
I have a sports car.
No one wants to sit four hours with their legs out the window.
Every other day one of them says “maybe I should not go”.
I think we should all go, and I do not care who drives.
I am sure "who drives?" will take them four more days to decide.
Journey Journal Page
SELF-AWARENESS
By Leon Enriquez
Awake
Meet mystic fate
Here at the gate
Early not late
For goodness sake
Aware
Greet magic state
Stern poise that plates
Your happy date
Of happy fare
~~~~~~~~~
Align
Your peace of mind
As soul now binds
Your heart’s own find
In fond design
Appeal
To greet goodwill
The way you feel
For words can heal
What thought reveals
~~~~~~~~~
Amass
Blessings of grace
Light on your face
In sweet embrace
In touch of class
Arouse
A feisty fest
Surge of fond zest
Feel wit urge jest
Play your full house
~~~~~~~~~
Abide
A certain feel
Strings words that heal
Know true goodwill
Love needs no pride
Await
That lovely tryst
To groom a kiss
In sexy bliss
Prompt lavish state
~~~~~~~~~
Appease
Feel touch most kind
Forge peace of mind
As beauty binds
Joy in warm lease
Agile
Know then the way
To live this day
Ground fun and play
Frame touch worthwhile
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
22 February 2023
Singapore
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