One pale night in the love-month
while the World slumbers and the skies forget about dreaming
One lost phoenix plunges and burns
with its broken wing.
Ailing gray and orange smoke scatters
as rain of ice plate jitters.
The bird flies again surprisingly
and beasts watch with reverence...
Heaven's one blow of deliverance!
Faith is not what you have,
it is what you do.
The World will keep on moving and will always save,
if you believe in all good that you do!
(Prosebite)
On a more personal note,
seeing the shackles,
self-imposed or by others
always raises the hackles,
yet, with only one oar
in the water,
neither doing their remit,
nor what they oughta,
as a means of avoidance
wherever they go,
catching crabs
whenever they row,
while blindly engaged
in endless negotiations,
with lobbyists, politicos
and their associations,
but, are they remunerated
for mere speech,
as opposed to action,
do they fail to grasp the truth,
or, is reality out of reach?
I sit in a nook
With a cozy book
Enid Blyton sparks
Jane Austen left marks
"Little women" read
Sherlock Holmes ahead
"Hound of Baskervilles" -
Mystery that thrills
"Wuthering Heights" shook
"Jane Eyre" - a cool book
O. Henry delights
Tolstoy - I reach heights
Shakespeare - can't forget
None as good as yet;
Poets so many
Inspired by plenty
Imagination
Book world's creation
Happy to be there
With nary a care
Travel round the world
Into new zones hurled
Master my diction
Power of fiction
My love of books changes the mood that I’m in.
And engages me in a life other than my own.
A life that I can relive in my mind
And feel love, loss, joy, and despair in my heart.
The power of storytelling can make me feel young or old,
A mystery writer like Edgar Allan Poe
Or a master in brilliant colors like Michelangelo.
A gymnast with artistic expression,
Or a leisure bicyclist riding along the road.
Or on a luxurious voyaging Caribbean ship,
Or a pirate ship raiding the seas.
Hiking in the beautiful wooded mountains,
Or freshwater fishing off the shore or in a small boat.
I can be Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson solving a mystery.
I can laugh with all my heart and soul,
Or I can grieve a death.
The power of fiction can empower me to be anything I want to be.
Tense, to create my own reality
Create my own world in my mind
The mind is so creative when given a vision,
A feeling; one can create and escape into it.
Crawford boxes
Wearing white soxs
Cindy and Chase
Built their case
About the train
Transporting the financial grain
Seeking fortune with fame
Going through each state
Fishing tempting bait
Until hiding in a bush
The reality push
Stupid economy
Transitioning to Daddy and Mommy
Super modeling soda pop
Choo Choo would not stop
For the Crawford boxes
Wearing white soxs
Better one will survive
Others will say goodbye
Until banks stepped in
Deciding who would win
GQ pinstripes
With the Broadway lights
Ending championship fight
Turning off the lights
Saying everyone is all right
And good night
Putting the dolls back into the Crawford boxes
Still selling South Side White Soxs
To think of lands that don't exist
Except inside the writers mind
To ponder what new worlds look like
Then to decide to loose or bind
We now create what has not been
To think of lands that don't exist
There's knights that rescue kingdoms dear
Others that come from inside the mist
The writers muse is quite varied
It changes with each story told
To think of lands that don't exist
To then decide what will unfold
Excites me when I do it well
With pics the reader can't resist
To write one more is all I ask
To think of lands that don't exist
F the police.
DEFUND the police.
Take their bullet proof vests,
And put a target on their chest,
So they can finally understand what it means to be defenceless,
Take their guns and their tasers,
So they can truly be powerless,
Let them understand their actions have consequences -
And we will never let them rest,
For every Black person a victim to their ‘arrest’,
Will get justice for their deaths,
F the police.
I will scream it with my chest,
F the police.
Until my last breath,
Revenge will be a dish we serve with no regrets
The power of fiction, classified- untrue
Imaginative stories precisely on cue
Through ordinary people found in their mind
Aliens, monsters whatever they find
As they search for a person, a place, or things
Santa, utopia... a horse with some wings
They search deep in their heads expanding their brains
To find yellow submarines and Alice in chains
Tiny Tim, Thumbelina and Little Bo Peep...
the shepherdess girl who fell fast asleep
Superman, Spiderman, Batman and the Cat Woman too
Little Jack Horner and Little Boy Blue
The power of fiction makes falsehood look real
Like an octagon seesaw and a triangle wheel
Even a person with the lowest IQ
Can tell imaginative stories just like me and you
men power and view
moving my head up and down
thank you very much!
* Please, take a look at the third line! Does it remind you of something happened in UN yesterday?
At the UN, Bibi Netanyahu said this about Iran
The power of the people will defeat the people in power
I sure hope he’s right ~ I pray they can
The splendor of books enthralled me early in life,
being attracted by the weird animations imprinted in them.
The nascent imagination of the five-year old
morphed within me as an exploring book worm.
I grew up with other timely interests in the transit,
many passing passions came and went,
but looking for mystery the childhood book worm grew
as a constant companion creeping secretively in my head.
The lure of books attracted me to the bookstores
like an obsessed honey bee to the posy of flowers.
I enjoyed the flavor of the mystifying nectar,
concealed in the suspense scripted by Doyle or Christie.
In my journey through the corridors of unveiling mystery,
created by Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot,
I took up their roles till I reached the precinct of the last pages
where the ace sleuths solved the enigmatic puzzles.
Although my old myopic eyes degenerated very much,
the strain over the years made the failing vision blurred,
the senile book worm still crawls to find the mystery clues,
letting me feel the power of fiction.
Shall I record every WORD
Dreams given in the night
Should I seek confirmation
From those who don't know the Light
Should I show prophecy
And attest to the TRUTH
Open books of warning
I've given since my youth
Will Kings and kingdoms
Rise up and claim allegiance
Approving of WISDOM
They act out in appalling grievance
.....against all evil
That is of Spirit is Spirit
No flesh can clothe LOVE
The purity of His heart
Cannot align with anything that matter is made of
The eternal record is finished
Recorded on the Spirit of man
When the soul arrives in the space
The resonance reveals the plan
Unchangeable, undiminished
The resilience rings forth His glory
What a privilege to be
A single WORD in the everlasting story
....grace has walked us through
Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-23-2026
Who is holy?
He who emulates God
For God is Holy
And how to do so?
Do what He does
Visit the sick, comfort the bereaved
Lift up the downtrodden, free the captive
Take in the orphan, the widow,
the poor and the stranger
Shun life in cloistered ivory towers
Holiness demands our God-given powers
I let the roar
Of the waterfall
Drown out
The doubt,
The pain,
The longing,
The fear.
I climbed a large rock,
My fear already churned in the rapids,
And surveyed the river
Below…
My self a naked feast for the flies.
And,
Drying in the sun,
I shed the weight of apathy.
The fear tried
(It tried)
To come up for air
But,
I held it down with a river rock
As
I bared my teeth in defiance.
A sound,
Like a rumble,
Burbled up from my gut
And broke above the roar
Of the falls,
Soaring it began as a low growl:
“No you don’t! Not…no not…
And triumphed with:
“Not Today!”
©?2026TaraHicks
Where South China waters churn heavy and wide,
A widow rose up with the ocean's own tide.
No emperor’s decree could govern her hand,
She ruled forty thousand across sea and land.
Her laws were of iron, her word absolute—
No plunder unshared, and no thief with his loot.
With hundreds of junks bearing canvas of red,
The empires of Europe beheld her with dread.
The Qing and the Portuguese launched their attack,
Yet her fleet in the bay drove the battle-line back.
She outfought the crown and she outmaneuvered the state,
Till they offered her peace at the emperor's gate.
She surrendered her sails, but retained all her gold,
A pirate supreme who grew peaceful and old.
Though dynasties crumbled and admirals fell,
The terror of Canton lives on in the swell.
Power Categories
Definition | What is Power in Poetry?
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Related Poetry Forms
function, talent, influence, capability, potential, capacity, skill, competency, aptitude, efficacy, gift, turn, qualification, virtue, potentiality, faculty, effectiveness, endowment, bent, dynamism, strength, force, weight, energy, intensity