Mint Coffee with Cinnamon
Walled garden of friendship
Jesus is My Mighty God I love him
If only there was a way
to press rewind,
maybe there'd be
another road I'd find
even though I know
I'd still cross every line
and find every way
possible to remain behind
Like my fate has
already been defined,
and would constantly decline,
as if I was designed
to be blind to the fact
that I'll forever be confined,
deprived of ever finding
any form of sublime
yet after being able
to reunite with my whole soul,
something so amazing,
as we began to bind
everything felt new
It was as if our worlds
had always been waiting to collide,
revealing a new kind of love,
seeing this dimension
in a completely different way,
still intensifying deeper every day.
afraid to show one another
the true feelings
that overwhelmed our existence,
until that very instant,
our energies created
such magical brilliance
we realized our connection was
uniquely different,
truly one of a kind,
a love with endless emittance,
shining beyond the limits
of space, fate, and time
I really only know
the surface of seasons:
the green and bloom,
colorful brittle,
and blanket death --
While science
informs me, of
soil fitness, to nourish
beneath and trim above --
I am yet not
entirely convinced
as to the longevity
of love? Should I believe
more the prophets and
priests or the lawyers and
judges? She was no help.
To be successful in life, one has to:
control his emotions
minimize his needs
subjugate his ego
acquire deep knowledge of the things he is after
work hard
never give up
and
always stay within his physical and noetic* capabilities!
Demetrios Trifiatis
06 October 2026
-
noetic: of or relating to the mind, esp. to its rational and intellectual faculties.
John's poems might never pay the rent
But even so they are time well spent
Capturing the rhythms and rhymes
Of a life, building a portrait
from snapshot moments
By: J.N.R Dutton
There’s a quiet heart upon the wall
that breaks the day in equal parts,
blind to the heavy tears that fall,
and careless of our weary hearts.
It treats a life like one quick breath,
counting the hours, cold and gray—
a gear that grinds away our breath,
where every second slips away.
And yet... time bends when passion burns,
and minutes stretch to touch the sky;
a single look, where longing turns,
can make a decade pass us by.
For all those weeks spent on routine
fade out like smoke in morning air,
while depth reclaims what life can mean,
and stays with us when we are there.
A clock measures duration, but depth counts time.
"If I am your refrain, let my name burn"
in your heart, darling ~ I love you so much,
We're yin and yang; for you, my core does yearn,
as I am "tortured by the taste of touch";
I crave your creamy caramel caress,
the language of love's lilt when our lips meet,
My purple passion, to you I profess,
in you, I'm content, you make me complete;
"I beseech the sun to undress the stars"
and clothe you with their shine and soft glimmer,
You deserve the moon, and the midnight Mars,
in the stardust glow, may your soul shimmer;
Your devotion dictates drumming desires,
mi amor, I come alive when you're near,
Your ardent affection, my heart aspires,
my faith is renewed by your trust sincere;
Let me "wake within the rose wilderness",
where you and I live and love forever,
May the hope of heaven not hinder us,
as we pursue our tender endeavour.
into …
the mountain pool …
I dive, headfirst - the suit I was
born in prickling with
bumps as the shivery wet rolls
down my length …
I soar in the cold, inky-black weightlessness
slowly rising as I let the
motion coast my body up to the
polished, star-mirrored
surface …
I break the dark, pearly plane and
take a hungry swallow of the warm, dewy,
bloom-scented summer night air
letting it saturate my core and
fill me to the marrow …
I come back to
reality just long enough to see
the full moon's porcelain glaze on your skin?
the Milky Way's swath shimmering
your tresses, and the
pleading, sublime, sensual gaze that
you pierce me with …
I breathe one
final soul-deep inhalation of
your nectarous fragrance and plunge
again, full into the
cool, shadowy abyss, letting it
take me, complete ...
sinking ever deeper as the
wavy moonbeams wink from far above
deep, deeper, and gone -
lost now, forever ...
in …
your eyes.
Copyright © 2022 / 2026 Gregory Richard Barden
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
As moths, man draws near to light --
Sun bathing by day, moon bathing
By night – they both can burn, you
Know – days, more apt the skin,
As for nights, brave play a potentially kindling
Part -- Love, the oldest inflaming protagonist~
And the theater, a highly, combustible human
Heart….
"murder me"
she whispered ...
lips pressed to my nape -
soft-nipping skin
for her betrayal of husband and
family meant as much …
we both knew the sacrifices
and we accepted the cost that instant
then, and for the scandalous
time to come …
she was lost in me -
straddling, pressing … and I, lost in her
so rooted that I was becoming
her in flesh - in all senses …
nothing mattered anymore but
passion and its pyre
torching all in its torrid wake -
all that had mattered
'til then …
it was a horrid
thing for her to speak aloud -
to place in such dire phrasing
yet it was ALL I wanted -
all that I needed and cared
to hear … "murder me”
she whispered again, pressing down
"for I am nothing now ...
“but yours."
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
We're built so very different. Yet we perfectly fit.
Like an herb rolled 'rillo, or Bruce Wayne & the Bat fit
My whole life, 'fore we met, was to make me fit.
I know you hate it when I'm bratty; pitchin a fit.
Your kisses melt me, and compel me into a lovesick fit.
I get that life's kept you busy. Is there a slot where I'll fit?
Cuz I've been burning to link up as your naughty miss fit.
We're built so very different. Yet we perfectly fit.
Like an herb rolled 'rillo, or Bruce Wayne & the Bat fit
My whole life, 'fore we met, was to make me fit.
I know you hate it when I'm bratty; pitchin a fit.
Your kisses melt me, and compel me into a lovesick fit.
I get that life's kept you busy. Is there a slot where I'll fit?
Cuz I've been burning to link up as your naughty miss fit.
Before the sky claimed them, they were only a man and a woman
two mortals foolish enough to love
The gods took pity on no one.
He became the Red Man Sun,
a blazing titan shackled to the sky,
forced to rise each morning for a world
that feeds on his fire
but denies him freedom.
His heat once warmed her skin in the autumn wind
now it burns him alive from the inside,
She became the Blue harvest Moon,
cold with grief,
the long dark nights she brings light autumn is gone
her love lingers on
She chases him endlessly,
a breath too late
he rises and she falls
As the full blue harvest moon chases the autumn sun
awaiting an eclipse
A glimpse of their love that once was
the sky itself is their prison
Still, they reached for each other
forever almost touching,
forever denied.
The Red Man Sun.
The Blue harvest Moon.
.
Each morning, the sun rises, full and bright,
but in the day, I'm not entranced - only in the night.
The sun may be loving. The sun may be pure.
But, I yearn for a twinkling, more demure.
I beseech the sun to undress the stars
as lovely Venus lets fall her gown for Mars.
Blushing star, you're hiding something from my eye.
I know your fire burns, though you're so shy.
A billion eyes fall on you from the earth -
show me, mine are the only ones of worth.
I reach up to you with my hungry arms.
Let my eyes caress your secret charms,
that the two of us may love and play
on harp strings - each shimmering silver ray,
until, in one rapturous cry,
we find ecstasy in the ink black sky.
The brightest flame is most doomed.
It arrives like clean gravity, sudden.
A flare in the hollow chest,
clockwork chewing the wick of hours.
It makes ruin look like scripture.
It gilds dust, names it heaven.
It teaches the dark to blink,
then laughs porcelain teeth, shattered.
We gather, rugged witnesses, alone,
palms open under ember rain.
We swear it will not vanish.
We speak vows into static walls.
But fire is a feral engine.
It eats its own oxygen, tenderly.
Marvel bleeds; the self is prison.
Release comes bright, then brutal.
O brief seraph of heat,
you governed our pulse with light.
You made the void feel mortal.
You made our names ring, once.
Now ash repeats your outline.
Stillness spins, merciless, patient.
Nothing stops. Nothing starts.
Only a glow, remembering collapse.
Let this elegy hold your flare:
a scream folded inside brightness.
Trust grew fanged, loyalty grew wings.
Then soot, soft mercy closed your mouth.
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