Six candles on your birthday cake
We have many more wishes to make
On this day, let there be endless fun
With days of fairy tales creeping in
Toddler to preschooler to schoolgirl
Let the year ahead be more joyful
You are moving ahead with time
I won't get a chance to go back in time
But I swear, to put my greeting in rhyme
I am sure, now you can read and write
Cheer with rainbow colours so bright
From scratches to sketches, you moved on
To draw the figures of your choice
Oh! Saanvi, it is gala time for us to rejoice.
In sensing, hear as twere we
Danger, an angel.
As a muffled vibration
A wall does repel.
Whose form itself do these see!
Knowing looks, soul's own
Each to each give; in that flash
Called intuition.
As thins that veils' conception.
Two world's. And too shown!
We were kids
That took the low road
Growing up
On the edge
Of the sword
Bullying other school kids
And breaking the rules
It was dark
Cold-hearted pursuit
To cause pain
To these kids
Stealing their lunchtime monies
Homework, clothes, and shoes
Like puppets
Stripped of dignity
Their strings pulled
And life's tugged
They followed that lowest road
Throughout that sixth grade
They shoplift
Stole fishing hooks for the hood
Rods and reels
Food and snacks
And condoms just for practice
Their faces were sad
Years later
Gray, old, and dusty
I ask why
What reason
Was there to tear on their youth
And leave this world scarred
connie pachecho
3/17/26
an endless sea of joy and peace on the horizon, so I weep
my nostrils whiff a bouquet of grace and glory, gracious scents
I hear the wonder in wonderful being written by the birds of morning
My mouth feels textures, trembles as cinnamon breaths courage
there is the briefest knowledge of light when I embrace a friend
The light of my soul is impressed by the sanctity of angel’s quiet glow
Without faith you only see darkness
You are just walking blind
Even if you live here one hundred years
Your soul is just an empty vapor
Of the truth without salvation
Life here is just a dream
You may have an American Dream
But all in you is just a nightmare
You are just a carnal, living, breathing man
After your expiration date, you'll see the truth
Of a reality your soul to damnation
Five senses cannot save you
It's the sixth sense that matter
The sense of faith matter most
Faith touches God, it makes Him happy
For God is a spirit, faith is His language
Worship Him in spirit and in truth
The truth in us is our soul align to Him
That soul should repent and follow His laws
That soul should rest in His abode
After this life ends, your dream is good.
If we can only smell the soul,
will it then smell like the rose?
in gentle aroma of passing breeze,
in morning fresh dew-swept air?
can we at birth of a little one,
breathe-in essence of his deeper self,
past the innocence of his smile,
can we see a universe entire?
do roses then live a spiritual life,
and speak with god with incense deep?
in their brief life on earth, is scent,
a language to reach other souls?
many flowers wither and fall,
like us in this garden of life.
while we talk of souls we do not see,
the rose has a soul that we can smell.
that is perhaps the reason why,
we leave roses at a departed’s grave,
so we can speak soul to soul,
through the aroma of their mystic self.
million roses I would plant to
honour millions who lived and died,
if only we could smell their souls,
loving memories would smell as sweet.
Once fishes, swift and swimmy,
populated seas, so many,
while birds, ever fast and flighty,
ruled the sky in numbers mighty.
Ask man if a sixth extinction's funny,
he with machines, guns, and money.
The day bled into dusk
as I sat by the window
and watched the sky
fall into shadows.
Trees silhouetted the yard.
Trees silhouetted the yard,
a late day of summer not yet fall
a feeling of nothingness
and I looked out the window
as the day passed with a whisper.
As the day passed with a whisper
the sky turned amber for a moment
and yard lights flickered stars.
A voice whispered
all good children must go inside.
All good children stepped inside
but now a sense of innocence was lost
how I remembered someone I barely knew
had just died three houses down
on the quiet side street.
On a quiet side street
my refuge sought
lost in refection
and the passage of time
as the day bled into dusk.
The rulers' wild minds and beast masks on tight
Were veiled in the looming night of their hands
Even their knees could not run from the plight
Air burned with a mother's cries across lands
Soothed by kings' raining tears across the sands
The planets and stars were splashed with Christ's blood
The sun blotted out by their tearful flood
The heavens were then filled with phantoms whirled
Raining into wombs to become lifeblood
A blood and water mist poured on the world
Inspired by a passage by Homer's The Odyssey, Chapter 20
He held my hands, I wanted pulling away
My heart beat is unstable, scared if I linger I wouldn't
want to let go.
Loneliness drove me into his arms, it wasn't my
intention from inception. He felt safe like a well with no
water, my emotions were as sky with no clouds, having
mind of its own,
as a child it wants to consume love, how can I avoid it
when it’s something inside me?
In Memory of Ashli Babbitt
Your name, to many, it matters not!
Killed in the Capitol like a piece of rot.
Against a wall, you……just standing.
Capitol Police shot you, with Pelosi’s branding.
What a great plan by the conspiratorial Left!
Allow peaceful people to come in~ then.take away,
Their very last earthly, warm breath.
This woman of course, was in no way a Socialist.
A Retired Air Force woman, you destroyed,definitelly
was no terrorist!
What a game plan: “Let’s give the protestors, Trump hats,
An unethical, deplorarable move, designed by Swamp rats.
Hundreds of good Americans in the hole since that day.?
Tienneman Square in our Capitol, how tragic, that day!
1/19/2023
The mysterious third eye
On your forehead
Invisible
A perception beyond ordinary sight Through deep meditation
The sixth sense
A feeling of incidence
Beyond understanding
And before its occurance
An inspiration
An invoke of a thought or an interest
An astral vision
To see the world of ghosts
What are all these mysteries
Beyond our wisdom and perception
In this unfair world
We'll just like to interprete that
Secrets or sin will be known
Sooner or later
You'll not be free from judgements
If any
*Image of Daniel in the Lion's Den by Peter Paul Reubens.
The Sixth of Daniel
Walketh I, thy path of righteousness, beheld His glory,
Lifted me upon thy pedestal, godsends didst overflow,
Name I lord overseer to a third of the Medes kingdom,
King Darius favor astir cohorts to envy, concoct ruses,
Deceptive intrigue dupes, prayers to induce him alone,
Ruling ricochets both together King Darius and myself,
Unbeknownst I, exploits hands didst seize my person,
Thy servant wast bound cast down into the lion's den,
Constant pray I, Grace abideth with me, I fear no evil,
Occasion thy beast that they'd hunger naught, assert,
Oh Father, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven,
Art denied am I thy countenance, 'tis yond lion's den,
Faith I apiece well-sprung eyes, obliged glad tidings,
The hour steadies, a lion's den notably stable, bestill,
My presence overwhelms one joyfully, two confused,
Witticism replaceth tomfoolery as similar fates a pair,
Restoreth bliss as a kingdom praises my deliverance,
Redemption's always confirmed in steadfast prayers,
Tenacious faith that placeth the wealth of me in Him.
2022 February 23
LIFE IS GREAT
FANTASTIC
INCREDIBLE
AND AT TIMES
UNBELIEVABLE.
FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS
I THOUGHT EVERYONE
HAD SIX SENSES
APPARENTLY NOT.
ARE YOU THE ONLY OTHER ?
I'M NOT REALLY SURE
WHAT HAPPENED.
WAS IT MISPLACED?
MAYBE IT WAS LOST.
MAYBE IT WAS LEFT
BEHIND.
MAYBE IT BECAME
OBSOLETE AND
DIS-RE-GAR-DED.
I DO WONDER HOW
IS IT STILL POSSIBLE
PEOPLE STILL
MAKE IT THROUGH
THE DAY AND LIFE
UNHARMED AND ALIVE
WITH OUT IT.
I UNDERSTAND TODAY'S
TECHNOLOGY. YET I STILL
MUST ASK. DOES ARTIFICIAL
INTELLIGENCE POSSESS
THE SIXTH SENSE?
TO THINK...
WHAT ONCE WAS COMMON...
IS NOW OBSCURE.
WITH THE ADVANCEMENT
OF SCIENCE IT WILL
FOR SURE DISAPPEAR.
Michael E. Harris
02102022
I hear loud clamoring and yelling.
It sounds like a rumble in the school hallway.
I know it is the older students.
The young ones do not dare.
YOU’RE FIRED! Someone yells.
You’re going to jail! says another voice.
Lots of snickering and laughing.
Maniacal giggling. It is not this funny.
Joy in the hallway because it is Friday.
Kindergarteners are on the other side in a straight line.
Looking straight ahead, keeping their bubbles. Voices off.
One of the sixth-grade boys gives them the stink eye.
A little boy screams.
“It’s okay. He is my brother! “he tells the teacher.
The teacher begins to give him the what for.
The kindergartener smiles, because he did it first.
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