When children are the target,
We begin to write our horror stories,
For what will remain of us in this world we call home?
What will become of the echoes of soles and heels on the streets at dawn and twilight?
When children are the target,
Who will schools open their doors to?
Who will harmonise the voices of the instructors on the assembly ground?
Who will sit behind those desks with keen eyes, curious minds, and warm smiles?
Who will rush out of their classrooms at the sound of the bell to the awaiting embrace?
When children are the target,
Who will bring colour to our days at home?
Who will run joyfully through the sunlit fields, glowing with the leaves and petals?
Who will sit with us, gazing at the night sky, awed by its beauty?
When children are the target,
Grief will rise like smoke from our homes,
The graveyard will mourn for the trampled buds,
The universe will rage and fume,
The elements will be sorely displeased.
When children are the target,
The race we run will be futile,
The applause will not reverberate,
And the portrait of our society will remain perpetually blotched.
February 4, 2026.
Now I have been forced into this position,
I hate having to change my plan of action.
Left to start this ball rolling to gain traction.
This demeanor so commonly full of poise,
I detest the use of superfluous noise.
The rest of my arsenal surely deploys.
My reflection slowly begins splintering
as indignant skin succumbs to blistering.
What I’m repeating is not registering.
Yanking at my emotions only to see
when to pull hard or proceed delicately.
I’m starting to feel you are here to test me.
Your image once clicked initiates rage bait
to rush out of control I can’t moderate.
I wish I had walked away, now it’s too late.
you are flying on a hazy dream carpet —
floating up there, above these old streets,
these ancient genuflecting pines and cedars,
rising above the sleeping dead on Broadway,
soaring now through the white tombstones—
the low walnut branches that flail like hungry cats.
now the sudden rush out of death’s hand we fly,
whirring by faster than blood flow in a silver sieve,
in and out of the shadowed majesties far inside,
these soul itchers that foretell the coming andantes,
here in this perfumed dreamland with only you,
as we seep through the spinning pines and cedars,
the long extending blood rivers naked with stones,
of venison death and fish spasms in the final sun.
The chooks in the morning,
Up as early as the sun,
For a full day of eating, exploring,
A full day of fun,
The cow is loudly mooing,
As the sun shines through the blinds,
Her calves' cute frolicking,
Fills everyone's minds,
The ducks loud quacking,
As they rush out of their shed,
But one stays behind,
With her eggs on her bed,
The guinea pigs hiding,
As he gets his morning food,
Come back in three hours,
and it will all be chewed,
The gardens slowly growing,
As all the plants thrive,
The bees happily pollinate,
It's produce keeps us alive,
Our farm continues to flourish,
And grow, and grow, and grow,
The progress is beautiful,
Even if it's slow.
As the dawn awakens the sky,
The stars can settle for rest.
The sun in the blink of an eye,
Will breach the horizon's crest.
The weary rise to their feet,
To begin a brand new day.
A routine they must repeat,
In order to earn their pay.
Children will rush out the door,
To catch their buses to school.
Mothers must mop the floor,
To absorb the milk in a pool.
The city at last comes alive,
With the bustling of the crowd.
The hopes to be done around five,
Depends if their work is endowed.
When the clock gets closer to noon,
A half hour is given for lunch.
But that time goes by too soon,
Then back to the grind for the crunch.
Homeward they arrive in their cars,
And when supper is finally done,
The moon says hello to the stars;
And waves goodbye to the sun.
The three imps decided to explore
And obtain a few treats as before.
Behind them, a cat mewed for her treat
But they refused in their own conceit.
The feline vowed she'd have her revenge,
They weren't afraid of any challenge
The cat saw them enter unafraid
As night darkness fell all light did fade.
A sharp moonbeam fell on a painting.
A lady, lovely but eyes glaring.
She screamed at the bad boys for stealing
The treats, in a manner unfeeling.
Fear entered their souls as all sweets fell.
The woman uttered a nasty spell
The moon shone brightly on the beauty.
On her lap, she kissed her black booty.
Many came to see cat on her lap,
It is witchcraft, said a nervous chap.
No one dared enter the house at night,
They'd rush out in fear, scratched and uptight.
The wheel of time turns so fast
Revolving in sequence the seasons
The sluggish summer days depart
Ending the long vacation.
It’s time for the schools to be in session
And for the kids to resume the old routine
Getting ready early in the morning
Rush out not to miss the bus.
They are eager beyond measure
To wear the new school uniform
To fill the backpack with new books
They have waited the whole summer.
From their own lives parents know
How much in future the kids would miss
The exciting time they are having now
As they go back to school.
__________________
September 2, 2022
Contest : Back To School
Sponsored by : Francis Roberts
Thoughts rush in; words rush out
Really know what it's all about
Stop that rushing; just stop it.
Don't throw that fit!
Take all the time you need to pray
The the Peace will reflect in what you say.
Manipulations and temptations flee
Don't be as busy as a bee
But breathe deeply, think creatively,
See the beauty somewhere intuitively,
Wait and then act purposefully.
Don't let the "negatives" bully.
Be sweet and never stop smiling
Blessings will start piling.
gingerbread lace on a gorgeous white porch
splashed of corals and oranges among the green trees
here is a home where love is generously lavished
I rush out of the car almost before it has stopped
Home at last, I smell vanilla and cinnamon and love.
My co-workers in the hallway are laughing
I rush out to listen; but I must have missed the punchline
They are trying hard to like each other, I can see that.
Motormouth is talking, so I slink back into my room.
Glad she doesn’t include me; for she never listens to anyone
I think this is the most unflattering trait a person can have.
in the wee hours
while the world sleeps
with much anticipation
on tiptoe i rush out
to capture that perfect moment
when the sun arises
first morning rays cast
to greet an awaiting world
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
I get emotional at what others say
Crying, angry, hurt, negative...
Happy, confident, egoistic, peaceful...
Others opinion should not matter
It should not decide my emotions
I sigh in despair
I cry when I am in pain
Get upset when desires are not fulfilled
When others behave selfishly
I am fifty years old
I should grow up
I heave a sigh of despair
Beauteous nature brings bountiful bliss
I love looking out of my window
Melodic chirping of birds, sky, rain
trees flowers all make me happy
When a new chirping sound reaches ears
I rush out to see
Watching new bird, I heave a sigh of joy
Writing poetry, reading others
Lost in a joyous world of my own
Waltzing through images and emotions
Laughing and crying
I sigh in exhilaration
After a full day of hard-work
In my bed at night
Giving my body much-needed rest
I heave a sigh of relief
13.07.2021
For Chantelle Anne Cooke, What Makes You Sigh
Trust me, have I ever lied to you before
You tickle my pickle and so much more
There should be a law
To restrict my awe
Else I'll gush on the floor as I rush out the door
Huh???
Letting Go of the Grass
I always loved the feeling of touching the grass,
Holding on to it making my hands turn red,
I never questioned the idea of letting go,
Hating the feeling of letting death flow,
Being chained to my love and life,
It was like chewing deadly ice,
I couldn’t just leave,
I didn’t get a chance to really breathe,
As my love was slipping through my mind,
My hands started to get out of line,
“Please” I screamed I wasn’t ready to go,
“No Please Don’t Let Death Win This Vote”,
I lost my love, so I started to lose my life,
I felt the ice start to break,
Seems as my willingness to live was fake.
Goodbye as the blood in my arms rush out,
Letting go of the grass,
Was the last sentence coming out of my mouth.
(Completely Your Choice(38), Brian Strand)
-11/5/2020-
They didn't rush out to greet him
When Father time made his call...
They traded house and picket fence...
For one room down a long hall
like soldiers standing watch...
They take turns staring at the clock...
And wonder where the babies are....
They used to rock!
He said....It's Grand Central Station...
Every day, at breakfast call
Between the walkers and the wheelchairs!
She said.....Be glad that you can walk!
Silence streaks across the room...
And a hush falls on the hallway...
When the announcer says...bingo has...
Been cancelled... for today!
Oh! They're going with the flow
Like candles...when he wind begins to blow...
Two precious silver tears...
....in their golden years
They are going with the flow!
Close friends and family...
Don't come around much...anymore
So they comfort one another...
'Thought that what friends were for....
They pack up to go back home.....
About once a week it seems...
And the nurse softly smiles...
As she unpacks their things...
They are going.....
Going.......Goi
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