We dream we can share our darkest secrets without judgement or retribution but realize we can only share them safely with others through our poetry.
Tonight, I will dream of you.
I dream we share our secrets
Indiscretions and hurtful pasts,
Told as gilded sagas
By immoral sociopaths.
I share to you with confidence
One of my poignant dreams.
A tale of stirring fantasy,
Images not as they seem.
Cold snakes coiled on soiled paths
They spring in naked truth
Biting hard at every turn
Retelling their violent youth.
Poised to prove their stranglehold
On phantom victims’ crimes.
It’s here we hide the willing sin
We’ve accepted many times.
As dreams become reality
Our thoughts embrace their role.
We resist the curse of others
Playing mind games in our soul.
Here I hunt for solitude,
And here I find my soul.
I search my heart within myself
To learn what I have always known.
To be true to myself
I need to speak loud and clear
~ share what’s on my mind
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
It's commensurate with the secret that you keep!
Is a diary entry 'poetry' per se?
What if it touches engaging the soul
peeling back layers of raw hidden emotion?
What if it bares sharing innermost secrets ~
what if it articulates heart to heart?
Sometimes we'll just blurt out our feelings
avoiding the fancy frivolous packaging
spilling the beans it's not always pretty.
We just say it like it is
black on white unfiltered uncensored
words spewing out without grace or flair
just getting the load off our chest.
So... are diary entries 'poetry'?
Yes if you want them to be
Yes when they go beyond the mundane
Yes when they pull at your heartstrings
in any way you choose ~
Lineku: 3 stanzas of 5-7-5 lines ~ every line either 5 or 7 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
The candle trembles in the draft
shadows stretching like whispered secrets.
A single heartbeat fractures the dark
and stars lean closer to listen.
Even the silence carries it still:
we once had our light.
Secrets in a box
I have a box on the shelf in the spare bedroom
The box has blue and white stripes, I think
It was a shoebox, perhaps bought for a child that
I was not born; my youth is in that box
Sometimes, when alone, I open the box, and it has
many photos of life lived in the seventies
Many friends are smiling for the camera
My ex-wife, too. What they have in common is
that they are all dead
I received a delayed letter from Alex, a friend
By then, I knew he had died, the letter in the box
unopened
I look at the photos like a visitor from a past life
I do not feel sorrow or guilt. I was a difficult
person to live with, even though I had friends
that loved me
I put the lid back on the box. The visit is over
I must go on living in the now.
I am the keeper of secrets that I can not reveal
You have no idea of the secrets I keep
And how I really feel
I have been the keeper of the secrets since I was very young
I have been tormented by the secrets since when they first begun
Because I keep these secrets in my life I act so brave
Knowledge of these secrets I must take with me to my grave
Even when I'm gone to heaven or it might be hell
To the devil or the Lord God above the secrets I will not tell
The secrets I hold would rip many lives apart
The reason I cannot reveal these secrets is I wouldn't know where to start.
i feel so stupid
i actually believed you loved me
i believed every lie
how could i know it wasn't true?
it all seemed so real
the smiles, the laughs
every time you were there for me
how much of it was fake?
i forget you're an actor
and you're really good at it too
you can easily play any role you're given
it makes sense you could pretend to love me
you have me on your strings
they're on my limbs
controlling my every move
holding on so tight
i can't break free
i'm like your puppet in a way
i do what you want me to do
i act how you want me to act
it's like i'm wearing a mask but
i'm hiding all your truths underneath it
i know you so well
better than you know
yet it's like i don't know you at all
i would've never expected this from you
i changed when i found out the lies
i've never been able to look at you the same
i question everything you say and do
but i didn't change to you
i stayed the same
pretended i didn't know
because i think you forget
i'm an actor too
Satan is just an excuse to conceal one's self in lamb's blood.
FLOTILLA
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
her heart, once a crammed attic,
overflowing with yesterday’s dusty relics,
became a barren room.
each secret—a silent, fragile confession,
she scrawled on paper thin as skin,
slipped into the throat of antique glass.
a cardboard ark, ferrying her bottled truths,
down to the shore she walked,
where the sea sighs secrets of its own.
a flotilla of confessions and longing,
a bobbing armada of regret,
pushed by the tide—away, away, away.
she raised her hands in farewell
releasing all her burdens,
their echoes fading on salty winds
At Christmas, by the fire's gentle glow,
The secrets shared, a whispered, silent flow.
My nephews, bright, with eyes so full of glee,
And my sweet niece, a sight for all to see.
The firelight dances on their youthful faces,
As sticky marshmallows leave their sticky traces.
The scent of chocolate, warm and sweet and deep,
A tapestry of memories to keep.
We toast our smores, a sticky, sweet delight,
As secrets bloom in the warm, festive light.
Of wishes whispered to the falling snow,
And dreams that only Christmas can bestow.
The world outside is sleeping, hushed and white,
But here, within, the fire burns so bright.
And in this haven, safe and warm and low,
The seeds of future secrets start to grow.
So let the embers flicker, red and gold,
As tales of wonder, young and new, unfold.
For in this moment, simple, pure, and true,
A family's bond is born anew.
Her winsome smile belied her secret essence
A temptress and siren
Given to saturnine quintessence
And I a man of placid and calm complexion
Became ever more umbrageous
With each stranger she offered affection
Ciara Cybelle chose to take her chances
Unconcerned by my mood
Continued her frenzied romances
She swooned at my charm
And laughed at my wit
And yet held to another man’s arm
Ciara Cybelle a nymph out of hell
Twisting a man
With her temptress spell
I had to make her understand
She simply had to see
I must be her only man
But Ciara Cybelle laughed instead
Eyes flashing fire
She brazenly said
The likes of me would never know
The deliciousness
Of the charms she would bestow
On other men she found fairer
Then in a rage
I struck in blind error
And carefree Ciara Cybelle
Lay shattered and still
At my feet where she fell
To the dark waters I fed
The alabaster body
Of Ciara Cybelle dead
Now benthic stillness of cimmerian depths
Disturbed by the pale lifeless limbs
Of Ciara Cybelle
Now tumescent and water pruned
The once sempiternal beauty
Forever ruined
I live my life in disguise hoping you can't see the truth in my eyes
The secrets I have must be buried deep
But they return as nightmares when I sleep
I know these secrets must not be told
But on my life they have a stranglehold
To tell these secrets is not meant to be
As they can hurt others not just me
And if I did talk it would be no surprise
That you would say that I'm telling lies
I will say nothing and your secrets I will keep
They will die with me and be buried deep.
Your eyes are orbs of light where untold secrets sleep,
they cut through darkness like arrows searching for lost light,
and in their depths gather loves and losses like rain in a cup,
unspoken stories burning silently, like embers beneath the wind's ash.
They seek hearts once open, now closed within their own silence,
reflecting dreams that do not die, but float like islands on seas of fire,
holding truths like pearls hidden in shells of shadow,
and letting slip only what the soul can bear without breaking.
Sometimes they cast a spark of disdain, a sharp cut of cold light,
other times they close, heavy with sleep, at the call of too deep a shadow,
but they awaken once more when hope steps again over the horizon,
and greet the dawn with a wisdom that cannot be learned.
Through the years, they bow only to truth, without masks, without lies,
for only the eyes can see to the end the sweetness and pain of love.
1404 Poetry Contest //Sponsored by: Brian Strand
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 14, 2025
lantern quivers dusk,
shadows twist like whispered secrets--
fireflies thread the sky.
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