- Even darkness shines in a dance with butterfly wings - quote by poet
She dances in the dark
expressing passionate emotions
Through movement
with a partner or alone
Dance gives her a sense of belonging
stimulates socializing
A bridge between the visible
and the invisible world
As humans, we are equipped with
a wide range of passion
regardless of whether you are blind or not
Dance serves as a delightful sanctuary
On the wall, keeper of time,
The hands of truth continue to wind.
It ticks with the steady beat of my heart—
A loud, continuous nudge,
A reminder: "Remember you must die."
The hands of a clock mirror our life.
With each swing of the pendulum,
A little less time.
Each second, a moment closer to demise,
As the sun sinks low in the western sky.
Fear not your shadow; accept the night.
The clock keeps winding,
As the daylight turns to night—
With each tick, clarity speaks softly
Purpose shines brightest just before midnight
As time fades away-
Embrace the fallen night
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ the ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ pulse.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ mounts ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ and beats ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ with the surge.
¦¦¦ it bursts. ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ announced.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ running through the streets.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ in ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ their shoes.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ it sheltered ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ led
By a ¦¦¦¦¦¦ gesture. ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
It enters. ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ dancing.
(Blackout of The Assassination by Donald Justice)
The dark room is a canvas of hidden shades.
Vibrations from veins in the sky thrill as they fade.
My reflection catches a sudden, wide smile,
Awe-struck by an ambience so raw and frightful.
My heart skips; the pulse is electrified.
Pulsating sparks strike sharp like hidden teeth,
Illuminating bare floorboards and weary bones.
Unfettered liberty shocks like the first brush of lips.
A current travels all the way down my spine.
I marvel at this ecstasy, this fire’s heat.
Life's force takes hold when abandon grasps and tears.
Reluctance surrenders to endeavors of splendor.
Stark white strobes strike—the dark is vanquished,
Leaving the room to shake in the heavy wake.
My heart does ache.
My eyes would like to close a while;
bathe in dark lake
of mystic dreams and erstwhile
memories of images now opaque.
My tired soul
begs the keeper of the mind:
summon that golden oriole,
bid it fly to thoughts that I, purblind,
have sought but never recovered whole.
And in its beak
bring back from realms afar
the comfort I seek
from sacred leaf of deodar,
that trance-like visions I might eke.
O, soul be calm again,
Be-trembled frame be still.
O, heart your pulse restrain.
With bird-like impulse in weakness of will
it dips its steely beak into my vein.
after "Nothing Gold Can Stay" by Robert Frost
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down today.
Nothing gold can stay.
after poem: A Pulse Is Bound To Wane
A pulse is bound to wane,
red rhythm vibes in vein.
A stream-bed’s liquid power
still stirs when mood turns dour.
But beats do follow beats,
like cleats on city streets,
‘til red sun siphons west
throb beneath my breast.
Deep pulse starts to rise high
As a burning fever mounts and spirit ascends
To the sky
Dim turns the light
Each breath, a soft sweet song, extends
The night
Senses
Bloom and transcends
Joy
Deep pulse starts to rise high
Each breath, a soft sweet song, extends
Joy.
Daylight begins to gently break;
across the secrets that our spirits keep.
I walk a path as ancient shadows wake;
with a pulse of flowers beneath my feet.
Your laughter is the wind within the trees;
no map is needed for this sacred ground,
A melody that puts my heart at ease;
where each step a virtue we have found.
I’ll follow where your serene beauty leads;
with you, the world is vivid, vast, and sweet;
amidst wild brambles and o'er halcyon meads;
with a pulse of flowers beneath my feet.
I used to speak in futures,
in steady hands,
in white coats not yet worn,
in lives I hadn’t saved yet,
but somehow already carried.
Now the words feel heavier,
Like they belong to someone,
who believed too easily,
that effort always blooms,
that nights always end.
I’ve memorized too much,
names of diseases,
paths of pain,
reasons bodies fail,
but no one taught me,
what to do when hope does.
It didn’t shatter loudly,
No,
it slipped,
quiet as a missed heartbeat,
somewhere between trying again
and wondering why.
I still wake up early,
still chase something,
but it feels like running,
with no finish line,
just echoes of who I said I’d be.
And yet,
somewhere beneath the exhaustion,
buried under doubt and silence,
there’s a stubborn pulse,
faint, irregular,
but there.
Not hope,
Not yet,
Just not nothing.
The morning wakes in a bruise of gold,
where the mist is a ghost on the clover's breath.
Listen: the soil is a riddle untold,
of roots that dance in the face of death.
It's a green so loud it rings like a bell,
vibrating deep in the hollow of the wrist,
a story the ancient mountains tell
through a veil of silver and river-mist.
A fiddle's bow biting into the string—sharp, resinous, and wild.
A sudden fracture of sunlight through a heavy rain, turning the hills into shimmering glass.
The cold, damp weight of a wool sweater and the electric hum of a crowded room.
Its not just a color; it's a fever of the spring, the snap of a Guinness, the smoke of the peat.
It's the heavy, melodic weight of the ring, and the thunder of boots on cobblestone Street.
The air is thick with the scent of the rain,
tasting the salt and the coming of light,
a celebration of joy carved out of pain,
burning emerald-bright through the heart of the night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stones whisper in cold riverbed~
lost words scatter like embers.
I kneel where light fractures,
turning each shard inward.
Something pulses beneath.
aquamarine tide
slowly ebbing and flowing
~ rhythmic pulse of life
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Blood flows through these hands
Like currents during a storm
Lightning in their pulse
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
stone-kissed currents hum
the water’s drumbeat—steady
through the canyon's throat.
my breath slows to match its flow~
ancient rhythm in my bones.
I have seen a thousand smiles,
Heard a hundred names spoken sweet,
But none ever lingered
In the way your silence lingers in me.
You -
Made the mystery feel sacred itself,
Never chasing a crowd,
And with your quiet presence,
I found poems I couldn't write.
Those glimmers -
Unintentionally gentle yet,
Intentionally abyssal!
No diamonds cut deeper than that,
Oh dear, his eyes carry the kind of forever,
Even sonnets envy!
I pull away from every hand,
Not because I fear love.
But because when the soul found home,
No imitation could be the melody,
Swaying in quiet wonder!
So if one day you feel a strange warmth,
A soft tether settling into your chest,
Know that it's my love;
Unspoken and covert,
Yet endlessly endless!
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