I’m wishing things were different.
I question what I absolutely cannot change.
I catch myself praying for petty wants.
I see the pretense of my ways.
Some old habits die hard.
AP: 3rd place 2025
It’s difficult to share the great unknown
residing somewhere cloaked and undercover.
Hiding in nooks and crannies
that deep abyss of darkness
quite content to remain nameless.
Eyes ever watching peering glaring
in silence loud with echo
while half-truths ride wild rollercoasters.
Stonewalled with straight poker face
denying any inadvertent slips of telltale signs
the mystery that wants to be deciphered
remains the epitome of enigma.
You’d think it’d be to my advantage
to open up and spell things out.
I’m not in tune with inner feelings
and expressing emotion is a foreign language
… unfortunately old habits die hard.
Lineku: 3 stanzas 5-7-5 lines of 5 or 7 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
The water flows along smooth stone,
As does the deep crimson.
Water can cut through stone if it chooses.
Same with the blade of battle,
Its stone being the walls of the soul.
Those walls can be cracked easily,
The soul slipping out through the holes.
War is the bloody truth of the way to peace.
There is always war.
War between the elements
War between territorial animals,
And the war between humankind.
Everywhere there is some conflict,
Swords being drawn,
Bullets being loaded.
Fear being mounted as the casualties keep towering,
The face of death looming over ones that had nothing to do with it.
Maybe one day there will be a time with no war,
Just peace and prosperity.
It is something we always hope for,
But old habits die hard,
And we fight for ourselves again.
For greed has a grip on war,
And greed is here to stay.
Greed will never leave,
For we will never stop being greedy,
Not just greedy for money,
We might be greedy for attention,
For love,
For things we don't even need.
Its a simple human nature to be greedy,
Which makes it a simple human nature,
To want war.
The day after Christmas
Each year, without fail,
I hunt down my calendars
Since they're on sale.
I head to the bookstore
And search through the racks
For the wall-hanging ones
Then I look through the stacks
Of the page-a-day versions;
I purchase both kinds
And I won't leave until
I'm content with my finds.
Could I buy them before
And the sales disregard?
Well, the answer's "Of course!"
But old habits die hard.
Got to hold it together, try to keep my cool,
Even when dealing, with imbecilic fools,
Should know better, but they freak me out,
When in the wrong, they just scream and shout,
My problem is, I won’t back down,
Especially if right, and dealing with clowns,
Should I be the one, to hold my tongue,
Guess it all stems, from when I was young,
Always had to, stand up for myself,
Show any weakness, get beaten up, no help,
That’s my dilemma, remains with me today,
I’m wiser now, still can’t turn the other way,
Hold your ground, never let bullies off, scot-free,
Face them down, no good cowards, you’ll see,
Only seek easy targets, to punch below the belt,
Fight back hard you Lion, watch their bravado melt.
By
David Kavanagh
Cup of coffee first thing
Old habits die hard
Too easy just to cling
Impossible to discard
Old habits die hard
Coffee's got a special zing
Impossible to discard
It gives my day a wing
Coffee's got a special zing
Unlike any other thing
It gives my day a wing
Caffeine's aroma makes me sing
Unlike any other thing
Coffee's flavor is King
Caffeine's aroma makes me sing
So insidiously addicting
Coffee's flavor is king
Better than most anything
So insidiously addicting
Refreshing as a taste of Spring
Better than most anything
Too easy just to cling
So insidiously addicting
Cup of coffee first thing
At the gates of Heaven
I sit and sing Your praise
Where is Maya now?
when the only sound my mind
can hear is Hari Nam
My sari a silk prayer flag
flutters in the tranquil breeze
pastel blue, pink
and yellow hues of Prashanthi
abode of highest peace
Listen manas to the music
timbrel, flute and harmonium
they too sing the glory of God
Still we must be vigilant
our hands continuously harvesting
the bliss of selfless service
our thoughts, words and deeds
a divine mala on which we
incessantly chant Hari Nam
Eternal Companion
old habits die hard
and charming snakes with
golden hoods
rattle in the ghostly shadows
Hold me closer, Ancient Self
tighter still...steal my breath
So...so that I am blue skinned like
You
And when the ways of the world
have passed away
Scatter my ashes...vibhuti stars
all along the Bhakti path
What was the ethics of homefires
when homeostasis had gone awry ?
There were no concrete truths.
I will not wear the lies instead
like fly ash on my bloodied shirt.
The old habits die hard;
the beds of flesh and bones, carry the
strange innocent meanings of heavy
eyelids which could not beat the silk
of green eyes of a sun.
A miracle was needed to undo the
thighs of mermaid who went to sleep on the
rocks of jealousy. The sky-blue flames
rise again from the navel of infidel love
who had inherited the golden moon.
Satish Verma
What was the ethics of homefires
when homeostasis had gone awry ?
There were no concrete truths.
I will not wear the lies instead
like fly ash on my bloodied shirt.
The old habits die hard;
the beds of flesh and bones, carry the
strange innocent meanings of heavy
eyelids which could not beat the silk
of green eyes of a sun.
A miracle was needed to undo the
thighs of mermaid who went to sleep on the
rocks of jealousy. The sky-blue flames
rise again from the navel of infidel love
who had inherited the golden moon.
Satish Verma
S[hy girl. This is who I truly am. It
H[as been since I was born, in a not so far away land.
Y[early I've grown with it; away from it, learning to accept it; repel it.
G[rowing more brave each and every day, i make that statement true, in my own way.
I[nstead of my sister talking for me; I speak; not afraid, my voice is no longer weak.
R[arely, do I now give up a chance, for me to meet, someone, a new person to me.
L[ately though, my old habits die hard, letting me fall on glass and ice shards.
S[hyness creeps back over me when i least expect it, suffocating me.
L[ove isnt formed by this, but a new crush, and it is mixed with lust.
O[nly then am I truly shy, wanting to go and hide Then I do not speak out far too shy for
that bout.
S[eeing someone who is new, a possibly cute, new sweetheart to sit day in and day out in
my mind
E[ven when I've never talked to them yet, i sit here and fret, what will they think of me.
O[pened, my heart beats frantically and my mouth shuts down quite quietly, too quietly.
U[nable to open my voicebox again, for quite some time, i sit down and scribble with a
pen.waiting.
T[ill I realize, that, SHY GIRLS LOSE OUT
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