Garden is fading away,
few purple petunias,
wildflowers lanky and weak,
the green leaves dull and tattered . . .
yet, the birds and butters' come,
the bees and wasps are many,
and the cat still prowls within.
The look of one abandoned
Blown, and screechy, through
A rouge's aired haunt, to.
Yet no discomfort therein
Prowls, as well, thought-free
Wonderment's, knows he.
Upon the midnight moor I roam,
beneath the stormy sky;
a black cat sings a sorrowful tune,
where restless shadows fly.
He prowls along the ancient way,
with tales of grief and flame;
a rogue of claw and velvet coat,
who bears a haunted name.
The old trail calls across the vale,
the thunder rolls afar;
his song rides wild through every gale,
beneath a broken star.
He tells of ships and savage seas,
of battles lost and won;
of wanderers who chased the dawn,
then vanished from the sun.
The hunter hears the midnight song,
and halts beside the heath;
for legends born in darkest hours
hold secrets underneath.
The black cat cries a rebel hymn,
a ballad fierce and free;
a lonely soul with burning pride,
beneath the ancient tree.
So raise your gaze, ye souls of grit,
who march through storm and rain;
for every heart may find a song
inside its deepest pain.
The Feisty Chicken
prowls up behind that blind fool
Sneak attack! He rules!
With wars at every dawn,
Danger prowls—a hungry beast.
One must don their armor,
Or fall where life has ceased.
Yet armor weighs upon the fighter,
Restricts step, exhausts the might,
But shields the heart and guards the soul,
Sustaining life through the endless fight.
You who walk unarmored,
Must sell your all to gain your shield,
For battle comes—none shall be spared,
And empty hands will never yield.
The day of blood will soon arise,
When armor’s stock is spent and gone,
And none will lend their own,
For all must strive to survive the war.
Written: December 05, 2025,
*****************
Night: a single breath, galaxies stalled in its chest,
silence stone-heavy—glass melodies cracking.
Shadows lean softly against the walls,
not menacing, but patient—
listening for the flicker of a hesitant heart.
From a throne carved in gilded stone
They vented vile voices to the katabatic wind,
wailing whispers waft over wintry wear.
I grasp a world engulfed in fire
Every flicker a fragile fantasizing flake,
shrunken before bloom.
Ego prowls like a stray wolf
shattering serenity into jagged shards,
gain drifting toward despotic dominion.
We raise stone altars disguised as bridges—
only to watch them crumble
into dust beneath our crossing.
Buried deep in earth lies a singular root,
a quiet colloquy to a ubiquitous crown—
Life unfolds, shadows brood,
delicate yet enduring, thriving in the gloom.
And the human spirit shines with brilliance.
The selfish thoughts in your mind take up arms…
Moving through the inner chambers of your thoughts.
Your ego, sharp and frosty as winter--
prowls among others, leaving its mark and sneering.
Patience huddles in the corner…
folding her hands and cooing ;
“We each go back to the earth when our hour finally closes.”
The ordinary moments lean close ,
laying their hushes against your ear.
Kindness leans in, pressing a hand to your shoulder,
watching Pride storm past.
Understanding walks at your side ,
its steps measured… its counsel sure.
Breathe in slowly and remind yourself:
“Goodness moves with me into every moment."
written 12042025_Don Mueang
War prowls not in nations ,
but along threads we cannot see,
stirred by men afraid of being small.
They hide behind heavy drapes…
Blind to the dust they leave behind.
Egos puff up and snap with each word,
sparks falling into fields,
that never asked for fire.
Voices puff themselves up like proud birds,
words flicker over dry tinder--
pauses yawning wide for disaster.
Ego, restless as a fidgeting child,
tugs at the world until it tips and leans, laughing,
chuckling as cities lose their balance,
holding on tighter
until Hope folds in on itself and retreats into shadow.
And still they feed it,
men who drape themselves in wrath like armor,
bowing to Force as if it held a crown.
Victory casts a faint , weary smile
while the World leans aside,
guarding its secrets in silence.
The Selfish Egos of War
Sponsored by: Craig Cornish
Contest Judged: 1/11/2026 6:54:00 AM
( 1st Place )
Written: 11/29/2025 (Don Mueang)
Written: November 22, 2025,
***********
I cherish the solemn stillness of the night,
where veils of mist cloak the moon's pale face.
Its threadbare curtain, a tiara slight,
of sanctity and shadowed grace.
There, catharsis prowls in whispered tone,
a voice that has faded yet still unabated.
Though death has seized its throne,
hope's luster gleams, amaranthine, fated.
Wretchedly wilted, the petiole lies,
hubris humbled in dismal decay.
Yet dreams, those viceroys of disguise,
transform burdens into light’s array.
And only sleep, at fate’s silent behest,
Unbinds the soul’s relentless, stubborn chain.
From hecatombs of grief confessed in chest,
To wisteria’s bloom, soft peace regained.
satan is strong in historical knowledge.'
It is what drives him on.' It is also his biggest 'weak point.' For he reasons this.'
God is full if mercy..He sent His begotten
Son to the cross to redeem sinfull humans
Last time round so this is satans plan.' he intends to pull many into sin, so he can hold them as hostages, in the endgame..So this is why we must bring as many in to Gods Kingdom..As all who satan gains will not
Alter Gods actions.' They will be lost
Eternally..Let us arise then, and advance in Gods name.'
Love yourself everyday, don’t put yourself last.
Love yourself with good care, pay attention to all that you hold near and dear.
Life is precious, God told us of the Lion that prowls the earth trying to eat us.
Life is like being in a walk through the valley of death, because we are trying to walk in peace yet are sometimes surrounded by negative forces.
Love yourself with awareness, stay alert, trust God, and never give up.
Love yourself more than wealth, put health before wealth, making you be rich in health ways, which may make you live longer and happier for all your years.
Love and life and happiness are all intertwined, so take good care of yourself and walk with good care.
Lifting prayer to God, today and always.
The beast bites the hand
taught to feed and stroke its mane
the wild creed and lash
can't be tamed chained nor retrained
hunger defeats any pause
each person harbors
a beast that they dare not rouse
that prowls through their dreams
for denial whets their fangs
and strokes more intense hunger
I know all its words
I share its profound dark breaths
I walk where it stalks
know that its way is ruin
but the beast is my shadow
I forged my own beast
as a dark-born reflection
a natural kin
to unmask the buried truth
I learn in no other way
we meet by its fire
to combine our restless breaths
feel our pulses match
trade discord for true accord
and turn our truce into peace
torrents of tears flowed
when he saw a sea dragon
beached dehydrated
for he knows that it like him
could only shed tears on land
the tears were salty
welling from bag of sea brine
in the ocean's blood
he harbored in his body
as fluid to bathe his cells
he needed to cry
but till now tears would not spill
weeping on ebb tide
to wash moribund eyes clean
and inhale with a fresh breath
he fights the current
gripping on to refusals
yet the water wins
the dragon prowls in the foam
its searing breath flares fear
one tear another
fell soft on scalded shadow
fell on dragon's eyes
sending the sand grit flying
washing the stall clean of grime
fear sinks in the tide
form of the trial changes
relief opens gate
as ocean consumes his past
dragon wings have unfolded
tears were the pivot
to beat the challenge
breaking resistance
setting sails on favored wind
on the course past the dragon
When truth is reversed into lies,
a silent cry takes its place.
And when this happens,
prayer becomes the only weapon
against the cruelty of the world.
A cry the world refuses to hear.
A pain that goes unnoticed.
A silent cry in a solitary room—
and yet, a flicker of hope,
a thought still blooming
beyond the ache.
Trust becomes a fragile thread—
easily frayed once you step away.
Laughter echoes in your absence,
not always in kindness.
Advice arrives,
dressed in concern,
but its weight presses you further down.
Encouragement stays silent,
while sympathy hides behind walls.
Words come sharp,
not to lift, but to slice.
They speak as if they know your path,
yet never ask where your feet have been.
The smile once shared
to lift others from despair—
gone in a breath,
vanished in the hush
of midnight blues.
In a moment, everything changed.
Now, with only the weight of sorrow to carry,
I hold on to the one thing that remains:
prayer—
the shield against the shadows,
the strength to block the evil
that prowls unseen.
"Resurrected Dawn"
In twilight's hush, where shadows dance,
The Dire Wolf's howl, a haunting trance,
Echoes through the ravaged land,
As humans tremble, at their own hand.
The scientists' hubris, a fatal flaw,
Unleashed the beasts, in a world gone raw,
The T-Rex stalks, with calculated stride,
The Triceratops, with armor, does reside.
The Pteranodon's wings, a darkening sky,
As humans cower, with a desperate cry,
The Saber-toothed Tiger, with eyes aglow,
Prowls the ruins, where cities once did grow.
The planet's reborn, in a primal scream,
As ancient monsters, reclaim their dream,
The humans, a fragile, quivering throng,
Must adapt, or perish, in this resurrected wrong.
The Dire Wolf's pack, a ruthless might,
Hunts down the last, of humanity's light,
Yet, in their eyes, a glimmer of fear,
As they confront, the creatures they did bring here.
The world is lost, in a bygone age,
Where humans are prey, and beasts do engage,
Their primal instincts, a force so bold,
The future's uncertain, as the past unfold.
In this resurrected dawn, where monsters roam,
Humanity's fate, is a desperate, final home.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.