Look at the planets on their revolving path,
They have been following from their birth.
Neither they stop nor they opt to rest,
But they use to negotiate the turn at their best.
Countless repetitions and limitless calculations,
But they still manage to keep the same period of revolution.
Stars hangs around to respect the gravitational constraint,
Comets are accelerating to receive their lost glory that has gone latent.
We humans are mere spectators fixed on Earth to witness the event,
Just to respect and satisfy the theory of natural restrictions to infinite extent.
Michaela Renee 's World
Creative, Visionary...Welcome to Michaela
Renee's World,
Where truth endures raw, where the margins
Swirl,
Where life don't maneuver in a straight-
Line scene-
It arches, it snaps, it flips between.
Twist and turns in every gist, Rhymatic
Beats cut keen-edge and gleaming.
This ain't just poetry- it's pulse and momentum,
It's breath grasped tight in a crowded space.
Life talks blaring in the path you choose, opt
Some wayside break, some on the roads
Bruise.
But you walk powerfully built through every
Curve, Spoken word solid with grit and nerve.
Storms impact hard but you don't fold, you
Revise pain into bars you hold.
Every setback flickers a line you acquires,
Every information taught flips into a zigzag
Flow in your pulse and pace,
Truth in your voice, fire in your territory,
This world is yours- You set the locality,
Michaela Renee...
You carve your path, turning thriving chaos
Into spoken-world flame.
THEY DONT SEE HER
In her car, at the end of the day, she screams.
They don't see her as she does all the work.
A testosterone regime, toying with her dreams.
They don't see her when they ogle and lurk.
Just a chance to see her capabilities.
They don't see her unless she plays ball.
They co-opt her work, a hand up her skirt,
they don't see her as human at all.
All the while she kept the receipts,
she don't care what they think anymore.
They'll take the fall, for their corporate cabal.
They didn't see her walk out the door.
The other day I overheard
one alien say to another
The Pope would opt for peace on earth
if he had his druthers
So, in his Easter address to the planet’s nations
he’d be wise to advise ~ every earthling’s deportation
Eons having been spent in hypnotic trance,
with indulgence in illusions the cause,
no wonder stooped is our stance,
since we opt not to pause.
Desire births thought,
which then feeds our ego,
which is why we are fear fraught,
attachment to objects unable to let go.
Mistaken that we are only this body-mind,
we have become addicted to thinking,
from pulsations of love misaligned,
blocking awareness unblinking.
If we but pause to reflect,
befriending silence the mists clear,
whence seeing that we are shipwrecked,
invoking grace, God’s presence then draws near.
God dwells in our heart so our search to jump start,
poised in silence as pure awareness self-aware,
deeming all souls as one and none apart,
with universal consciousness we pair.
God and we are already one,
so in truth there is nothing for us to do,
save through surrender slowly coming undone,
allowing the throb of bliss magnetism within to renew.
If the option was rich or free,
Which would I chose for me?
Would I opt for free?
Would I prefer to be rich?
If I chose to be free,
I would discover that
Freedom is riches unrivaled
If I chose to be rich,
I would soon learn that riches
Tend to attrack burdens and
Passions that enslave.
For Many years unable to identify
this haunting whoo whoo sound
Could it be an insect or a bird up in the trees
An amphibian by the creek perhaps ?
or something, else not identified, rising from the ground
The hoot was mostly early morning but sometimes through the night
unable to get vision of this creature
perhaps through camouflage it kept itself from sight
The mystery, finally it was solved
in the middle of the day
When the haunting hoot erupted,
not too far away
In desperation as a result of an attack by a marauding crow
the sound was emanating from a desperate immature creature
A frog? no not really but part of the name,
of a bird, that's how it does feature
In appearance it much resembles some owls
Its called a Tawny "FROGmouth"
a name with several vowels
A few metres from our house there are up to four
perched upon the same branch roosting
and sleeping through the day
They are nocturnal feeders, intermittently the branch is vacant
as they opt to stay away
22.
History Today
Where classroom colleagues and I come, sit, wait & stay
For teacher not yet is there on time must, not may
‘Til minutes come to thirty
Opt us all forsake pretty
Professor absent will not history today.
-01/10/2007
(Miagao)
*Topsy-Turvy Limerick Ironic
I want so badly to go back to 2018
To the year when I was pure and innocent
And so easily influenced
And the year that I didn’t even know my family was falling apart
My mother told me that it was the year of the dog
And I watched her slowly die 3 easters later
And the blood of my family is splattered on my hands
But the thing with blood is that you can’t just
Go back in time
To
Get
Rid
Of
It.
No one would opt to cover up their bloody hands with white paint
Or soft melodies
Or lies
You’ve got to scrub
Until your skin is raw
And even now I catch a glimpse of blood hiding under my nails
Or between my fingers
And I remember that I will never be a blank slate
And I can never be fully clean
The bubble is bound to burst
before long; therefore at least
A gondola you should opt for
For letting loose your emotions
Loaded with almost all oceans
Curved currents and foams
Potential fear amidst delight
and excitement; your sights
blurred by beauty that roams
along the edges of the figure
Flooding your whole existence
Mopping off all distance
Of time and space in braincase
Only the embrace, you write
and replace, the lips and face
In cloud base and fireplace
In cold case and in a horse race
Mewing wooing cooing
Howling, growling, prowling.
Doing, undoing and redoing
Life is never a straight line
Bland canned and flatland
It's waist band and dreamland
Fascinating woodland
Crescent and fluorescent
Incessantly effervescent
So no monochrome of woe
No saying always not and no
Instead, the bugle of gusto
In the meadow with a rainbow
Always the wonderful gun
In your lovely hair-bun
___________________
18 September 2025
A perfect summers day with the sky turquoise blue
A faint breeze through the trees and pink flowers in bloom
Out on the green they are dressed in their best.
Bright team colours, we expect nothing less.
At the start of the game they gather and stay.
Til someone in charge shouts out “Let’s play”.
The grass is so dry the bowls speed down the green.
Looking out from the pavilion a classic summer scene.
The bowls clack together as they fight for the jack.
Each rink changes sides back and forth, forth and back.
The game draws to a close and it’s on a knife edge.
Our team steals the show with one point ahead.
It’s time for tea after a grand day of fun.
Some opt for a pint and a fresh saffron bun.
Hello, calling Sergeant Stedenko,
Stedenko, we all just want to know!
Sarge, we just breezed the "Ghanja Boys" toke,
And then we seized the "Ghanja Boys" smoke!
Hell Sarge, we all found weed by the pound!
And, not one goddamn seed could be found!
It was sticky, stinky, funky, funk!
It was stinkin' funky from their trunk!
So, then we just gagged 'em and racked 'em,
After that, we tagged 'em and stacked 'em!
We need your okay just to proceed,
Meanwhile, we'll watch as those boys just bleed!
Or, we could opt or adopt your church,
And give those boys a cavity search!
If they pass anymore gas or grass,
Guess we'll just have to firebrand their ass!
What the Hell? So what do you say, Sarge?
Cuz...we know that "today" you're in charge!
But, we'd really get a big "charge" if...
We could just take a really big whiff!
I cannot make it simpler, plainer, flatter:
do not mistake my words for salesman’s patter:
‘direct’ is not the same as ‘idle chatter’.
You own a thing you never ought to shatter –
you got your Constitution on a platter,
and ‘peace’ beats ‘bleeding’. Never opt for spatter!
The former’s better (trust me) than the latter.
It’s fish that’s nourishing – ignore the batter
(the only thing it does is make you fatter).
We Europeans know. We have the data.
When enemies come challenging, don’t scatter.
Repose is better for your soul than clatter,
the dormouse wiser than the loony Hatter.
Thank you for your attention to this matter.
I wake again, the sky still ash
Mostly soft, not quite the weight of lead
seen at five a.m; that god awful flash
of knowing there is nothing when dead
Here inside a room, trying to recall
if sleep or darkness shapes it all
Whiskey breath eats away my face
Oh good! Aubade… finally shows a trace
The afterlife sleeps in, it always does
Woken up in the usual way
Another drink, a top-up buzz
Lifts my spirits, just above dismay
I fumble around with unopened post
Get dressed, eat flakes, feeling like toast
Hope and despair make a meagre pact:
That life bears fruit, and breakfast lacked
I breathe, then sniff, try steady a hand
light a smoke, or slap on a patch
Gesture defiance, attempt to stand
brave it out past the hallway latch
Go search, or not, for what comes after
opt in, opt out, call on the pastor
Who's high as a kite on altar wine,
“There's nothing” he sobs, “or do you bring a sign?”
His eyes light up, as I offer him a line
And you know! that day turned out just fine.
The sun rays from above come into play,
Causing men and beasts alike look thirsty;
They care to stay well-watered every day,
And to protect even each plant and tree.
People opt for light-colored, loose textile,
So they can easily breathe the fresh air;
To aid their body contain heat hostile
Of the scorching sun that's too tough to bear.
Smooth skins apply a broad-spectrum sunscreen,
Wearing hats and sunglasses for their eyes;
They seek shade under the leaves vast and green,
Thanking the sun behind the cloudy skies.
Summer makes us learn symptoms of heatstroke,
Heat-related illnesses say no joke.
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