Creativity
An unexpected lifeblood
An unrecognized thread
The only thing driving me
forward
Through the dull familiar
War over, the dust settled.
They thought they annihilated all the beauty.
Lone rose stood its ground.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 2nd place 2026
**The Thorn of a Bee**
*Written by Marilou G. Taupan*
In a peaceful meadow, a bee flies freely,
Small yet liberated and useful.
But no matter how good its deeds are,
There is something it fears—its “thorn.”
Like the bee, humans also have their own “thorns.”
It is not something that literally pierces others,
But it represents the experiences they carry—
The pain, anger, and wounds of the past
That have never fully healed.
Like the bee, a person may sometimes hurt others,
Not because it is their intention,
But because they only want to defend
And protect themselves.
When you see the true “thorn” within someone,
You will understand that it belongs to a person who has been hurt,
Someone who is trying their best
Not to be wounded again.
So, when you encounter someone with a “thorn,”
Do not immediately fear or turn away.
Perhaps that thorn is the very thing that keeps them strong
When the world has tried to break them.
Because behind every hidden thorn,
There is a story of pain, hope, and perseverance.
Like the bee—its thorn does not define who it is,
But the heart that continues to soar despite everything.
Roots, hold deep, green leaves rise,
Flourish under sunlit skies,
Salt and soil, protection throughout
In harsh conditions, you'll survive the doubt.
A tireme was set to sail
Yet wind failed; to blow
Deploy oars it never fails
Once far enough out
Again they raised the canvas.'
The wind came as a !shout
The ship creaked and drove
The sails bellied so freely
Twas as when sins are shrove'
The cox'n sounded the bell
All the crew yelled and cheered
Music to a capt'ns ears i hear tell.?
Faith under fire
When it comes right down to the wire
How are you going to stand?
Are you going to be salt or extremely bland
When your faith is under fire
Don’t believe the words of the liar.
When the smoke starts to rise and obscure the view,
And the whispers tell you there’s nothing left in you,
That’s the moment the embers begin to glow,
To reveal the deep roots that run down below.
It’s easy to burn when the wind starts to blow,
But a fire refined has a different kind of show.
It purifies the spirit, it sharpens the sight,
Turning the shadows into brilliant light.
So let the heat rise, let the furnace test the grain,
There is power in the standing, there is purpose in the pain.
Keep your feet on the rock, keep your eyes on the prize,
For a faith under fire is a faith that will rise.
Was worthy and reputed,
Was needed and recruited;
Was fresh and secluded,
UNTIL I WAS TORN OUT, NOW CRUMPLED AND WORN OUT!
It came and wrote out on me,
I was open and letting it see,
It scrambled on me with feel of hate,
but I didn't know its name was fate.
Was hoping and curious,
Was creative and serious,
Was fire and genius,
UNTIL I WAS TORN OUT, NOW CRUMPLED AND WORN OUT!
It dim the light of my eyes first,
Then slowly made my emotions burst,
It made me question my sanity,
I was completely stripped of my dignity.
Was sobbing and pleading,
Was crying and bleeding,
Was mourning and seething,
UNTIL I WAS TORN OUT, NOW CRUMPLED AND WORN OUT!
Now I was all covered in ink,
That brutal doesn't even blink.
I broke and shattered bit by bit,
Then it tore me and opened the slit.
Now shivering but healing,
Now fearing but sealing,
Now ended but... still feeling.
BECAUSE I WAS TORN OUT, NOW CRUMPLED AND WORN OUT!
I am not attached to the book anymore,
Though shaken to the deepest core.
It thinks it ruined me by tearing me,
But it doesn't know, that just made me free.
Because,
I WAS TORN OUT,
Just wait till, again I sprout...
Jesus, Jesus, hear my plea,
may your Spirit, live in me;
Father, hold me, in your palm,
safe, secure, from all of harm.
Jesus, Jesus, I shall sing,
for my one Creator King;
who left his home up above,
to redeem us, by his love.
Jesus, Jesus, calm my soul,
in my struggles, help me so;
still the sea, around my feet,
make my life, in you, complete.
Jesus, Jesus, help me live,
all my soul, to you, I give;
keep my mind, from strife and doubt,
worldly humans bring about.
Jesus, Jesus, fix me please,
take away all my disease;
yet, your Will, not mine, I pray,
each and ev'ry single day.
Jesus, Jesus, I adore,
help me strive to know you more;
grant me, with a heart, so big -
naught on earth, I can't forgive.
Jesus, Jesus, guard my heart,
never leave me, nor depart;
through the highs and lows of life,
share my gladness, bear my strife.
Jesus, Jesus, I am free,
help me then, abide in thee;
grant me strength, to run the race,
full of mercy and of grace.
05/27/2026 (First penned)
Defying Evil
The moment an urge to surrender emerged
Inundated with fear by the impalpable devil
One must assuage and strengthen your will
To awaken the spirit profoundly submerged
3:54 p.m.
September 26, 2025
Aboard the Vision of the Seas
Cruising towards Boston, Massachusetts
The Greenbrier's Tenacity
I am the root that refuses the drought. I am the vine that denies the clean edge of the saw. You curse my thorns and call me wilderness, but I am simply the will to live, unbound.
My stems are leather, supple and sharp. They climb without asking, weaving through the neat, clean rows, a dense, insistent, complicated love. I am the silent truth in the heart of the manicured yard: What is essential finds a way to endure.
My leaves are heart-shaped, glossy, and deep green, a constant, quiet declaration of presence. I do not wait for the season's approval; I am here, always, holding the space.
The root is the law: thick, stubborn, and vast. It is an anchor against the shifting soil, holding the memory of every rain and every hunger. You may cut me back to the bare earth, but the life force is only driven deeper.
When you finally surrender to my persistence, you will find the small, dark, blue-black cluster of berries. They are the food of the deep winter, a gift of unhurried survival.
I am the Greenbrier, the tough, thorny truth. I teach you that to cling is to conquer, and that the deepest strength is found in the refusal to rest.
The Final Bloom
No fevered fight, no anguished cry,
I simply lift my boughs to sky.
I let the cold come, sharp and deep,
A solemn vow the roots will keep.
I do not cling to fading pink,
I only bloom upon the brink,
And give the glory all away,
To crown the beauty of the day.
My strength is quiet, my roots unseen,
My giving comes when I am green.
I cast my leaves with grace and trust,
Returning color to the dust.
So learn this truth, you anxious heart,
You are a brave and vital part.
Do not resist the change you face;
Find peace within your proper place.
Be still, be whole, be brave to fade,
The promise of the root is made.
Just stand and feel the season turn,
And simply be the life you yearn.
Dare to dream all things, mild to mighty,
Yielding to no artificial bounds!
You’re the one who gives meaning to them.
Others claim how foolish it all sounds.
Life sometimes hangs heavy on your dreams,
Tarnishing bright ideas with “rust.”
Keeping their flickering flames alive
Takes vision, courage, will, and self-trust.
Believe in lofty ideals, and
Don’t be trapped in your life, day-to-day.
Steady work on your dreams makes them real
And will keep them from fading away.
The Ideals of Captain America
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Contest Judged: 11/16/2025 9:43:00 AM
( 3rd Place )
Written: October 22, 2025
Courage is waking when the night won’t end…
walking into the day on tired feet.
It is the quiet choice to help someone
even when your own heart feels heavy.
It is speaking what is right
even if your voice trembles.
It is staying when everyone else leaves
holding hope in small, stubborn ways.
Courage wears no crown of glory.
It bleeds in the dirt beside the fallen,
it lifts the shield even when the arm grows weak,
it fights not for victory
but because it must.
Courage is not the hero in a story,
it is the hand you reach out to another,
the deep breath you draw,
the step you force yourself to take,
even when fear feels louder than hope.
It is the soft voice inside that says;
"one more step"
the stubborn heartbeat that refuses to yield -
the quiet rise after every fall,
even when no one is there to see you stand.
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 26
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 11/7/2025 2:03:00 PM
( 7th Place )
Written: October 9, 2025
I reach the edge of my hardest days…
Whispers coil around my ankles.
Debts coil and reach like old trees,
their branches scraping the walls where I once lived.
Whispers drift through the air,
the earth rough beneath my feet.
A harsh voice fills the silence,
and greed snuffs out even the smallest kindness.
The pressure tightens around my days.
Shadowed hands weigh on my shoulders,
testing the quiet strength I carry,
I carry myself forward, breath after breath.
I remain in this forge of trial.
Flames lick the edges of my spirit.
My hardest enemy is often the mirror;
my own hands, my own doubt
pulling me toward the chasm.
They cast their nets…
trying to trap my work, my name, my light.
The hush lasts just for a heartbeat.
I walk forward - not for open doors,
but because my heart will not bend,
because the spark inside me burns.
The paper gate is behind me.
Morning light spreads across the sky.
The road ahead is open.
I earned it with every step I took.
Baby steps ~ what’s your hurry?
Take your time and you’ll get there
Perseverance will always pay off
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
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