I'm so incredibly proud and privileged ,
to be recognised by the #GBEA '25 team,
The fact that I've been shortlisted,
Is far beyond my wildest dream.
Single mum to three wild boys,
They're the apple of my eyes,
I'm the founder of Lotus Poetry,
A new and upcoming social enterprise.
I'm running on purpose and passion,
Lots of caffeine, kindness and care,
But I'm really struggling to find,
The funds to get me there.
Real life isn't like a fairytale,
This Cinderella is doing her best,
Working hard to find a way,
To attend with all the rest.
Where I get time for me,
It's not often that I do,
I hope I make it work,
So my dream can come true.
A night off from the boys,
So I can drink and dance,
An opportunity to meet you all,
Thanking you for this incredible chance.
From the very depths of my inner being I cherish poetry,
without the written verse I’d be impoverished as a person,
literary projects spur me on to otherworldy epic peaks,
an open channel with furtherance from lexicons endowed,
golden opportunity for human pathos rich and fair,
stomach-wrenching pain, joyous peals of laughter, mental stimulus,
visions I adhere to have a wider world impetus,
the comity of fellow authors and their honest feedback,
diplomatic goodwill hint at barren lapse within my canon,
and gracious honeyed Bon Mot of peer group kudos on occasions,
that angst-ridden moment before a contest sponsor judgement,
bold gasp of relief at higher placement than expected,
or just as likely glum expression at the baleful NA,
in support a staunch muse Jay A Pallen shed her light,
loyal and demonstrative sister, whose sparkling eyes ooze warmth,
sagacious councillor supreme, bestowing love on this bard and their ardent stanza,
who brought to my attention bewitching vistas waiting to be captured,
influencer of my first ever piece “Downward Plod,”
shortlisted for Creative Writing Ink poet challenge,
where this writer’s magic life-enhancing odyssey began
I lose my fingers keeping count
the number of kids lost by murder count
in the eastern districts media houses dread
Patches of brown-black roofs on aerial view
Aunt hills of buildings single roomed
Shoot to kill, a governing tool
Stiff figures of teens bullet riddled
a common thing amongst those
shortlisted by fate to call home
Survival be the theme
U haven't heard of Vumilia
a small suburb rich in thugs
at least that's the word best used
by the papers you so dearly trust
To denote a group of youths
unexposed to a mastery of trades
The elderly in their twenties
those swift enough to dodge bullets
agile enough to survive the batsmen
and have caught the eyes of political dignitaries
war veterans with all due respect
Kim was almost nineteen
died graffited with bullet holes
Sarah was barely seventeen
wrong place at the wrong time
shooter: a blue boy in his fortys
We hath from a vicinity
where weakness is a rare condition
and the site of a parked car
sparks a dollar bill imagery
crowded class rooms, empty bellies
a deadbeat government
a thing called hope
You are my sun
Shortlisted from a billion of stars
Emitted a pulse, pushed me fall in love
Unintentionally, I couldn't refuse
But more like a dreamboat, lately
What I expressed, not more saying
Do I have to make a shrill cry
To free my soul from an untreated longing
Where are you
At least, we are still in one galaxy
I know nothing what you've been up to
No more
But alive in the deepest of this only heart
Where ignoring is hearing so much
Memories always tell about you and you
I can't refuse, even in intention
Oh! Where are you, you are still my sun
Rescue me from the miles I am lost in
From a world unkind
I only fear this blindness getting worse
Oh! You there, just show me your face
Your codes, your words
Though only by mobile phone
Oh! You there
I just miss you so much
Where the days seems so deligtful
I can't refuse
Love creates signs
Visualized into how walks made
The signs may be late
People read signs
Interpreted into expressions
The signs may be high
Walks and exprssions
Simultaneous in simplifying ways
To shortlisted signs, to love