Thoughts drift through endless skies,
And whispers echo back with sighs,
Shadows we become – the silence grows,
Like the river that bends but never slows.
Thoughts collide and softly fade away,
In the leaves of time, as life will decay!
Copyright ©2025 by Crystal David John
A winter storm is wild and free.
I stand in its eye and wonder...
There's even shades of Ivory!
Winter's crisp, pure, white, wet, breezy.
Its elements make me ponder...
A winter storm is wild and free.
The clock ticks on, no stopping, see.
Of memories, one grows fonder.
There's even shades of Ivory!
Glittering scenes of land and sea
In the wake of the storms wander.
A winter storm is wild and free.
In balance, wreckage and beauty.
Sometimes all but hope goes under:
There's even shades of Ivory!
So what potential do we see?
Will storms tear our lives asunder?
A winter storm is wild and free.
There's even shades of Ivory!
The shadows of a darkened past,
are the shades, that tomorrow cast.
The hurt we’ve caused, the damage we’ve done,
awakes each morning, with the rising sun.
In the shattered glass, there is pain,
when in the darkness of our mind, we remain.
Broken dreams, that piles up high,
as the shattered hearts, begin to cry.
In the darkness, we can’t see,
how those thing’s, hinder you and me.
The lack of knowledge, of the light,
blind to the darkness, we try to fight.
With no wisdom, we fight the air,
only hurting those, who truly care.
Where there’s a shadow, there’s a light,
and of the darkness, it gives us sight.
A heart of glass is mended with care,
filled with strength, beyond compare.
A heart of gold, from Heaven you see,
where the shades of tomorrow, will never be.
The sun shades slide beyond the hill,
The valley breathes a silent sigh.
The amber glow is soft and still,
The sun shades slide beyond the hill.
The cooling winds begin to chill,
Beneath the purple-painted sky.
The sun shades slide beyond the hill,
The valley breathes a silent sigh.
Shades of darkness
A little girl with a big smile
smiling inside but broken outside
Betrayal strikes when no one is there
And here I am, in a dark room
Where doors are locked and laughter's
have faded in a blink of an eye
My heart is heavy with stones
Life reflexes at last minutes
Whispers of the past hount my present
Was I ever capable at the first time ?
On this world I see myself as a looser
But they see something else, because
they will never know what I'm going through. I say Roll of thunder hear my cry
Lemony sun rose
when creamy clouds were wafting
Noon was mellowed gold
Yellow rose danced feverish
when odd birds sang gibberish
Sunshine rose preened proud
for it was her time to shine
perfumed prettily
Marmalade honey summer
in colors that become her
Her heart
Soft as dawn, she hums the lullaby,
hands that mend small storms and tie loose bows.
Her spirit
Bright as noon, she teaches courage, maps, and truth,
laughing at skinned knees, cheering every bold step.
Her soul
Deep as night, she keeps the quiet watch
a steady lighthouse, fierce and tender,
foundation of home.
of understanding you
until I can correctly
identify colors
Green is to me
my mother's eyes
in the morning
when she laughs
at a rich joke
while we nibble
cantaloupe
and make fun
of our husbands’
idiosyncrasies
Yellow is in the nature walks
I take with students before lunch
and optimism is in the heart
of every red cardinal
that twitters down
at our scrambling
scrounging
I see you
clearly
to the fiber
of every insecurity,
unshaven hair,
awkward fumbling
and uncertainty
from morning coffee
to evening regrets
over wine and verbosity
you look introspective
when you talk after nine
at night, before the lonelier
barred owl hoots
and we sleep on separate spheres
of the same queen bed
You share leftover memories
of the weeping willow
that fell
and almost uprooted you
The pictures
remember you
from misordered time
of Christmas when reality
held its breath
and we had a day
of suspended reality
Yorkshire pudding and roast beef
We were the ones that broke the rules
of love, and rhythm
Tahira died before
her Swan's song was sung
or maybe I wasn't listening
Mozart, you were a lesser man
than my sister was to me
He learned early
that silence is safer than truth,
that a man who cracks
is a man who disappoints.
So he stitched himself together
with whatever he could find
anger, humour,
a smile that never reached his eyes.
Most people only ever saw the surface:
the steady hands,
the easy nod,
the “I’m fine.”
But inside,
whole rooms were collapsing
and he swept the dust into corners
hoping no one would notice.
Some nights, he stood in the doorway
of his own life,
wondering how he became a stranger
to the boy he used to be
the one who believed in light,
in second chances,
in mornings, that didn’t hurt.
He isn’t broken,
but he’s tired
tired of holding himself upright
in a world that keeps asking
for the strongest version of him
even on the days
he can barely breathe.
Still, he rises.
Not because he feels brave,
but because something small inside him
refuses to die
a flicker,
a pulse,
a quiet voice whispering
“stay.”
And maybe that’s what courage is:
not the victory,
not the healing,
but the decision
to keep walking
through the shades of grey
when all you want
is a way out.
Big eyes that seek
A nose that knows
Better not speak
Better to pose
Shades of green
On dainty nails
Lips maybe pink
With muffled wails
1936 trying times
Women so unique
Guard their minds
In times bleed
Art of life
Hidden behind eyes
United by spies
Regimes that die
You remind me of the day and the night
Shades of blue that sink into my mind
I have no fear of your eyes
In fact, they can see me mesmerized
I hate every way, every tease that comes to reach
But yet there’s a spark, true feelings could lie beneath
Through the past, and through the current
Your waves flood me like an oceans torrent
No matter what I get myself into, I know the risks
But for you? From shallow to deepest I’ll gladly dive in
You ignite me, it’s something I’ll always admit.
But somehow, in all ways…
I’m kind of glad you did it.
suddenly a flicker
in the aphotic depth
of her ailing eyes ~
another rare moment
when she recalls my face
Light, what a spectrum
Of seven colours in all!
So is life of some
That always shows a shortfall
Of one or two, if not all.
Life's search of the shade
Missing-- if so felt at all,
If not, the life’s made!
___________________
Tanka | 32.10.2025 | life, light, spectrum, shades/colours
Note: ‘Missing, if felt so at all’, this Tanka says. Why? Even just three basic colours can give rise to many shades by combinations. If one feels no shortfall at all, he has made the life, the search ends, the journey ends. He’s liberated.
A brave black sheep and a wintry white crow
At midday moon got lost in the meadow.
The duo shed odd differences with pride
And found themselves as a groom and a bride.
Black sheep’s family so thrilled to entwine,
Gathered gayly to embrace new bloodline.
Now the sheep and the crow coo in delight:
Beware: not everything is black and white!
Last bursts of vivid colour before the cover of winter whites
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
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