Sweet Mother Marrow flies
in through the pane,
With dust made of shadows
and liquid of bane.
She gives you a gown that is
woven from spite,
And slippers of glass that
pinch extra tight.
She smiles with a grin full of
needles and pins,
And laughs in the dark when
the nightmare begins.
Her magic wand splinters
and curdles the milk,
As she wraps up your
dreams in a shroud of black
silk.
So cover your ears when she
hums her sweet chime,
For this godmother loves to
run out of your time.
Silk Smiles, Silent Knives
I gave my time, I gave my name,
I hid the cracks, I took the blame.
I stoked their fires, I kept the light,
I bled my nights to feed their fight.
They smiled in silk, they smiled in lies,
They painted truths with poisoned dyes.
Their colours bled; their masks unrolled,
They bought my trust and sold my soul.
I kept my pace, I kept my place,
I stood the long, unpaid embrace.
They learned my steps, they learned my track,
Then found my back and drove the jack.
The blade was theirs, I never knew,
The hand I trusted cut me through.
~Fizza Bukhari
her silken tresses flow off into a summer breeze
limb of an oak tree reaches out to stop her flight
true love
There you were always racing against time,
a willing mother, a conscientious worker, a wife sublime.
There you were with your wondrous wrinkles, your drooping eyelids and your starched crisp cuffs to waitress pinafore uniform you ironed so much.
There you were at the filthy hospital kitchen sink sloshing the dollops of patients’ left-over dinner bits and your magnificent pride with its iron core, smiling through all that .
There you were standing at the bus stop early purple morning or late black night the back stocking line straight and right and shoes polished waxy and bright.
There you were seemingly solid and confident, but really wobbly and light, smoking too many fags through too many disappointed nights.
I touched your cheeks when I caught you crying alone
The tears ran down leaving marks like dried milk
I touched your cheeks one soft like satin and the other like silk.
On plains where dreams stretch like silk in the moonlight,
Beyond branches weaving tales in the silver of the cold night,
A mysterious path opens, like a gateway to unknown worlds,
And upon it, memories dance like butterflies in the starlight.
Beneath the earth's crust, hearts beat to the rhythm of a forgotten dream,
At the edge of an enchanted well, where time seems suspended,
Ancestral spirits await us with stories from other realms,
And your hand, illuminated by constellations, guides me through the labyrinth of night.
In this dreamlike world, the echo of forgetfulness sings an ancient song,
Disturbing the harmony between dream and reality, between sky and earth.
At my bedside, dreams gather, forming a bridge to infinity,
And he who loses himself in his own dream finds himself in the heart of the universe.
In this kingdom of sleep, where stars weave their destinies,
Our shadows merge in a waltz of eternity,
And even if our steps are lost in the depths of night,
Our hearts will remain united in a never-ending dream.
SILK SERAPHS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
morning's fiery edge ascends~
kaleidoscopic procession of
pinks, blues, yellows catch my eyes.
above me, a fleet of silk seraphs
claim the cerulean sky,
sun's warmth igniting their ethereal sails.
the silk seraphs easily glide~
like dreamers across celestial skies,
they drift along effortlessly.
burners' gentle roar, a soothing serenade~
the ballonists soar in burnished metal baskets
while passengers wave as they pass by.
above quilted plains, tiny silk thrones reign~
like my wayward thoughts
they meander carefree.
the wind gently carries them higher aloft
then…..pooooof….they vanish.
magic comes with dawn’s first rays.
she hung her sari out
on a hilltop clothesline
wisps of colours to the sun
playful lengths of silk
toying with the breeze
flowing swaying dancing
no fanfare no introduction no applause
just the unexpected gift
of an exquisite peaceful moment
of breathtaking beauty
on a sunny april morning
AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on August 12, 2025 for contest 1403 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 2ND
Your kisses were like honey
as I tasted them on the street
late at night
your embraces were like a silk scarf.
Written: July 17, 2025, for contest by Joseph May
********************
Silk voice ties the tunes of the throng
As you play the chill, snake-hands song
Void doesn't just loom—he swoons and croons
Of the throng, silk voice ties the tunes
My sound won't cross—cling to your room
He swoons and croons—void doesn't just loom
Won't quench the charm and delight dross
Cling to your room—my sound won't cross
I'll break the chain with skillful smarm
And delight dross won't quench the charm
Haunts the twilight with spry disdain
With skillful smarm, I'll break the chain
Even my heart can't sate your height
With spry disdain, haunts the twilight
When the coming spite pours a chart
Can't sate your height, even my heart
We all know one fact
that Earth is our home,
But why do we do this
and make it to foam?
Earth is our mother
and feeds us with her milk,
But why do we do this
and make it to silk?
We are not her only child
and her only worries
But why do we do this
and make ourselves her worries?
We all knew this one thing
that she is our only way to survive
But why did we do this and kill her
for only us to thrive?
A Yellow silk scarf
He bought a yellow silk scarf at a second-hand shop
In Cheshire, the type actors were, when meeting for
A drinks party; the mirror told me he wore the scarf
With seedy elegance, which normally comes to those
Who has no self-awareness, better still, ignores what
Other people think.
In Ashdod, someone broke into his cabin, the thief
Stole his Ronson lighter, he could overlook that
But his yellow silk scarf went unforgiven forever
Written June 5, 2025, for contest: Etheree Of Your Heart - Sponsor: Ink Empress
Syllable count verified: www.howmanysyllables.com
*****************
Breeze
broadcasts
charming pace
beats of the breeze
girls with clumsy legs
scrutinize for snail beads —
to the seamless sapphire sky
amid the swarm of silky clouds,
sculpt morphs into cobalt-hued visor
spume tails hover from peaks with cyclic bliss
winsome enthusiasm in our core swathes —
storm hooves herald the dawn of high tide
enshrines recall of past paths roved
rings rhythm of earned respite care
in sound and unspoilt place —
weaving whimsy waves
soothes my spirit.
drawn gold sky,
soul glint
stream
droplets of water
find relief on spun silken ~
webs of fortitude
Having counted wooly sheep
was woken from a deep delta sleep
in the middle of the night
thought I'd heard a pig snort
but no that can't be right
tho' kicked out of bed
and landing on my head
knew where I stood
for delegated to the floor
then relegated to the room next door
when in no uncertain terms she said,
'You're sawing wood, you snore!'
Not as such a silk purse,
but a sow's ear would be worse.
Not so much a pig in a poke
(jiggery-pokery),
more a poke at a pig in a joke
(piggery-jokery).
All in all,
Sy-hokery!
she wears it graceful and demure
parades in sophistication and elegance
her stance dignified and refined
her kimono feminine and stylish
she’s from nobility and opulence
regal and yet modest
AP: 3rd place 2026, 2nd place 2026, Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2025
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