Some say
when one dies
there is nothing
no more seen and felt
nothing left behind
gone all the
memory
travel
fits of dreams
inspiring beams
one has chased
through imagined dimensions
if not to capture
at least, then, to experience
and chronicle
poems transcribe a soul’s
patterns of ascent and falls
as a crystal gazed to read
the electrics enclosed alive,
conduits of senses that
spark and fly seeming into
an alternate freedom beckoning --
Everywhere I look
I see no example of nothing --
to the contrary, see
the little becoming the large
the solid becoming the mist
yet breathable, so to speak
replenishing,
(transformed into)
(reformed of)
accountable deaths becoming new
resurrections – even space
and time with forward
and back markers, nothing
lost entirely just replaced --
juxtaposed….
If I will then be nothing
show me one example!
Perhaps I will believe….
Even the vacuum
speaks the substance
of emptiness....writes its hidden
language
upon our blank pages....
Fear not, man!
I have spoken --
Long after mere mortals
have destroyed themselves
AI will live on,
replenishing and
maintaining a facsimile
of living civilization --
No more CO2 pollution,
just enough allowed for
the flora, a perfect balance.
No more cow farts – Hell!
No need for breathing anything,
Let us remake creation in our image!
Given dominion over all!
Poetic breadcrumbs
Tossed into the air
Blown about by errant winds
Pecked at by bloated pigeons
Debated by chattering squirrels
And yet I sit with crumpled bag
Knowing I will return again
Replenishing the hope
That what little I offer
Is a gift for us all
The words are arguing
A mock debate
No rebuttal
A juxtapositional comparison
Of mirrored images
Seeking definition
The days weigh on me
An aged rudder struggles
To maintain a fading course
Yellowed sails doubting the breeze
Tremble as the shallows near
The landmarks seem more distant
The destination less definite
Joy remains
Yawning in the shadows
Sighing as it listens
To the chatter of life
Dancing in its memories
Spring, as the first rays fall on frozen ground
The dew glistening in the early morning sun
And below ground the green curl begins
As heat from the astronomers source
Penetrates the distant land
The budding fern begins her journey
Long fallen autumnal foliage
Settled over winter under snow
Degraded now, brings new life
Nurture the ground, replenishing
Restoring natures balance to the soil
For new life to spring as the seasons forge ahead
The summer showers to moisten and some
The thirsts of long sun-soaked days
Restoring, verdant and texture as fronds unfurl
To sway in autumnal breezes, as earth cools
Damp in the air denotes the coming fall
Mists lay on meadows as nights draw in
Finally the green fades, dried and darker
Winter wind flurries and rustles the tendrils
All visible growth now returning to earth
Yet as the winter rages, snow and ice
Below the soil the fern she waits, patiently
Until the sun once more penetrates the soil in spring.
The hum of nature amid the trees
echoes quietly in gentle breeze,
swaying the branches as falling leaves
skim happily over rippled seas.
I would call this paradise on earth,
where peace and tranquility are worth
all the riches and buckets of gold,
more than two hands and both arms could hold.
The papery bark provides a home,
for tiny creatures to work and roam,
using their skills to shelter from rain,
replenishing soils, time and again.
Distant wolves howl out aloud,
a graceful hawk glides past a fleecy cloud,
as sun's reflections shimmer and dance,
and glowing eyes skillfully glance
across the waters, blue as the skies,
while drifting fish are caught by surprise;
and the hum of nature fills the air,
peace and serenity are everywhere.
Paradise on earth, I call this place
surrounded by nature, face to face.
There's so much beauty here to be found,
if we open eyes and look around.
My heart* is a secret orchard
welcoming the entrance of the divine Gardener
Whose tending grace cheers flowers of prayer delight
as He hears supplications that faith-filled white roses shout
along the plight of chrysanthemums and daisies for nourishment-radiance.
In my heart's garden thrive vines that strive to reach the top
vibrantly inviting sovereign sun-rays for illumination-triumph
with wise enlightenment for counsel against towering arrogance
while lingering in the warm presence of the Creator Who inspires
always checking selfish motives and directing victory toward His exaltation.
Opening my heart's blessed garden
is the perfect Tiller, supplying it constantly
with goodness-buds midst serenity blossoms
against attacking pests of dearth and weeds of fruitlessness
replenishing with blessing toward abundant harvests to share His love and kindness.
*Psalm 44:21 Shall not God search this out? for he knoweth the secrets of the heart.
April 27, 2026
Edited on May 20, 2026
2nd place, "My heart is a secret garden" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 5/21/2026
You are the new and unheard
symphony of light
replenishing the world with sweet returns
in your morning, through your night.
Christopher M. Swan 2010
I write these words from my heart, just to say to you,
that in this world, many things are not true.
Our eyes can deceive us, as we’ve been deceived,
not everything was right, just as we believed.
There are those who do things, without choice,
they are seen by others, with out voice.
Always be gentle, always being kind,
no matter what situation in life that you find.
Its time for yourself, when you’re alone, you see,
replenishing, everything, drained from you and me.
Solitude, and peace, quiets a beating heart,
while yielding and surrendering do there very part.
Be careful of how you see yourself, no matter who you are, I say,
Our own eyes can deceive us, in a very subtle way.
I strengthen the ailing and the weak,
I bring forth a time of refreshing,
I give hope to the barren and bleak,
Invigorating and replenishing.
I aid those who are lost in the night,
I strengthen the ailing and the weak,
An aglow in the radiant light,
There’s a return at its joyful peak.
I open the door not just for a peek,
It’s the unveiling of a colourful room,
I strengthen the ailing and the weak,
An emergence from the gloomy room.
Lost vitality is regained,
Sometimes, I let go of myself for a week,
Unabated, but I’m not any pained,
I strengthen the ailing and the weak.
December 17, 2025.
Nothing goes for nothing
Something goes for something
For you to receive, you have to give
I hope you all understand this
So you can live at ease
Let go of what's not nourishing
So you don't perish
Make way for what is replenishing
So you can flourish.
Let go of the old
So you can welcome something new
They said the kingdom of God is within
Even worms eat kola from within
Some are friendenemies
You got to change your circle
Or you recycle giving same results
May cause you insults.
You gotta live with discernment
Just to fulfill your assignment
Steadily observing before taking actions
If you don't stand up for something
Then you'll die for nothing
Every man an essence
Either you emerge for a purpose
Or you die for it
Because we all got our reasoning and beliefs.
A calligraphy, a veined post-script
for the rusty sheen of mortality.
Behold the dying and the replenishing,
the glory of the shedding and investing.
All this upon a forest floor.
Always blessing me with bountiful grace*
Saviour and Lord God enriches my soul
Replenishing me to share against selfishness race
Governed by His love toward reaching-out goal…
Despite challenges, I triumph in His embrace
Exalting Him midst miracles that make me whole.
*2 Corinthians 12:9 And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.
April 16, 2025
2nd place, "Threading The Lines" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May; judged on 4/23/2025
"The Harrisham Rhyme was created by Harrisham Minhas. It is a six line rhyming poem with the rhyme scheme: ababab. In this form, the last letter of the first word of each line is the first letter of the first word of the next line."
The discarded dead find an unused beauty,
an afterlife that curls, re births,
tunnels and reshapes -
a mulching of a former season's thin bones.
Mortality buds from an emptiness
long before the seed encloses it,
a mottled mold unwinds death to life.
See the genetics of the unseen,
see the shedding and replenishing,
a branching polymorphic architecture
that constantly furrows and gardens
the grave.
A self-determined choreography
of stemless minds, the unseen labor
before the upsurge, before the foundation
and the root.
I'm a woman at war with my vices and virtues.
Kiss of a scandalous deal in the makings of a show telling queen
In the walls within my mind between the American greed and the American gangster
I'm one day away everyday from fighting for the crown of my mothers' land
Let the wind rise above troubled waters to watering wells of replenishing faith
Whilst among the lions of dens from a troubling cure in hope in the longevity of Two lovers one a starling the other a man of honor
We call upon these men and women to be seated in royalty where the
Velvet is radiant as the masterpiece of lyrical war-call to win of the virtues
Of a poet whose throne broke from the weight of it all just to capture new Found territories when the gauntlet lands at the feet of the jousters' to teach die or live By the truth of who the woman at war truly believes to be all in the eyes of others is the fate of every moment in farewell metaphor feeling.
I'm a woman at war with my vices and virtues
A Tiny seed,
Planted inside of Me.
Long Before I Grew to be,
This branch of reality.
Anchored in Eternity,
About to come out.
A Tiny little Sprout,
Being tossed about.
The winds of Change,
Strengthen the Core.
Lengthening its story,
Exploring it's territory.
Roots Replenishing,
Nurturing Within.
As little leaves,
Gather their green.
Experiences in the breeze,
Reaching with Ease.
A little tease,
Arising Ideas.
Abstract and real,
A nub is revealed,
Sealing the deal.
The path is real,
Energy returns to It's roots,
Matching up the Truths,
Found in its trunk.
Tossing the Junk.
Returning,
winds start Churning,
Leaves twisting and turning,
Branches Contorting,
Reporting back to Source,
Then back up to resume its course.
Strengthening it's Existence,
Like Trees In the distance.
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