a sugar maple leaf slips free
counting toward One proof
the Seven Mysteries
God, I count prime gaps
I watch prime numbers growing
only primes orbit
a rule sends one step
loops return periods double
recursion counts One
an iteration
within fluid smoothness frays
water turns inward
can you see the curve
study elliptic rank shifts
findings test the rank
questions spiral out
unknown patterns circle back
pi bends into sight
a proof can be checked
still search cannot prove it now
checking outruns search
every loop turns east
the count folds back into form
through form, God's Haiku
the sugar-maple leaf settles on frost
children of the corn start to awaken
Sweet Heaven,
my weakness
is falling for women with long hair,
sweet Heaven,
my Playboy's ways
charm them more than that
sey baseball player,
who winks without restraint!
My weakness spoils
smoothness, not its strong flavor;
this fame of an incredible lover
is due to an irresistible need
to conquer and deceive indeed;
I break weak and naive hearts,
I don't apologize to anyone,
it's the ego of the cruelest men
with the intention to win;
it's the habit of guiltless trolls!
I shuffle cards and watch players
with restless eyes
and trembling fingers,
they're learning to play
Game Queen;
a nightmare never seen,
they look around with dismay!
My weakness is not falling
for the women at the table,
but to win big and be their idol!
Love, nor beauty or ugly but how it's use
Man hasn't change from ruins before us
Building world to wealth beneath feet of slaves
Opportunity or dreams to which we die
Breath given while they feed off garden
Where is their fruits plentiful spoiled ground
Hands clean as smoothness of baby's skin
Wars, famine, desolate streets hunger a belly
Darkness; soul thirst for life's starvation
Each era same, results without conclusion
Christ died for our sins, who will die for yours
Blood shed streets evil presence lurking vengeance
Darkness depths, among your conscience you murder
Your own soul, your own breed, animals deserve better
Poison to corruption comes thought cause heart isn't in it
What is man if only for himself except alone
Lazarus sleep's doorway your steps trail
Equal; while pockets robbed for life's pleasure
Freedom, where thou earnings pay be breathless
Where's my people release from bondages of desert sands
Except we be chained to societies demise we wait....
still to be freed
Love starts off as a train,
Speeding down a tunnel that seems to last forever,
And you would love nothing more than for it to be eternal,
Sometimes, the person next to you leaves,
And another sits down to take their place,
But there’s always someone new to keep you company, if only you wait
Love eventually becomes a car along a road,
Where arguments become bumps,
Then become nails in the road,
And it’s easy to get a flat.
But take a breath,
Too many times do people abandon a car,
That just needs a new tire
Love’s final transformation is a boat,
Where a storm is rare,
But never impossible,
You and your partner have overcome the bumps of the road,
And are now smooth sailing,
The everyday ocean you once thought of monotonous, is now what you live for
And you’re surrounded by an ocean of content
Unfortunately, like all good things,
It must come to an end,
One day life will force you to dock,
Whether you want to or not.
Appreciate the rush of the train,
The smoothness of the road,
The peacefulness of the boat,
Because you never know when
your train will derail,
Your car crashes,
Or your boat capsizes,
So love who you love, with all you have
Written: January 22, 2026, for contest Sponsored by: Joseph May
****************
The muffin batter sits, poised for the heat
A tender blend of flour, milk, and the air
I stir it softly, focused on the treat
I handle the dough with velvety care
Its smoothness is a hint of flavors' shape
A tender blend of flour, milk, and air
The muffin dough begins its languid crepe
It rises, soaked in the nuggets of knead
Its smoothness is a hint of flavors' shape
A low-fat pumpkin bran muffin dish leads
Butter and sugar, whisked till soft and pale
It rises, soaked in the nuggets of knead
I swirl, I turn, I listen to the rain,
The muffin batter sits, poised for the heat.
A bittersweet cadence I can't restrain;
I stir it softly, focused on the treat.
We are ocean-born—
sea-salt still flows in our blood,
tides within our veins
the rhythm of waves calls us home,
to sea shanties' pulse and chants.
Once the waves have caught
you in their woven square nets
you are never free—
the waves don't ask permission
to sweep you up, knock you down.
Water yields and bends
soft yet stronger than iron,
nothing holds it back—
learn to ride the crest of change,
let its surge flow and shape you.
Each wind wells up
sculpts waves in sand, sky, sea, sounds
with smoothness caressed
to resonate sinuous
clock-like regularity.
Clouds above reflect
the sea's restless memory—
with waves in the sky
mirroring our handset waves
we use to communicate.
Signs ripple outward—
with wave gestures on the tide,
sometimes dismissive,
dragging under, lifting up,
quelling, by just saying 'Hi'.
I wish you could see yourself
Through the lens I view you in
I yearn for you to hear
Hear the music of your exquisite laughter
Hear the sweetness of your dulcet voice
Whispering you love me
I long for you to see
See the glory of your amazing beauty
See the deepest love in your hazel eyes
Glowing pooling of joy
I ache for you to think
Think of how deeply I love you
Think about how I think of you
And how proud of you I am
I need for you to feel
Feel the love in my heart
Feel how it all belongs to you
And the way it beats your name
I wish for you to touch
Touch the smoothness of your skin
Touch the softness of your hair
A delight to my fingers
Yes, I wish you could see yourself
Through the lens of love that I have for you.
The Upper Wealthy
It was said that famous families
only lasts for about three generations
The Churchills, the Kennedys, and many
Others have a sale by date.
I thought of that while watching a program by
Crise Hedges, who happens to have grown up
among the stratospheric wealthy, and he
spent time trying to distance himself from
that class of people
He can't, everything about his language
manner, the smoothness of those who have
not had to strive
Cris was interviewing a man who writes
books about the rich, who, according to
him are bad for our society and economy
Clearly, the rich are different from those who have
No private plane when going shopping
They send children to the top school in a limo
They have a big household staff to keep
them in clover, and security, to be rich also
Mean someone is out to do your harm
The two men began annoying me, telling
stories about the wealthy, sounding like
a couple trying not to sound envious
I look at my old hand
Blotches of liver spots, slow-running blood vessels
Delivering old blood so I can fold my hands
Once they caressed a woman`s body, who moaned
And my hands were firm
Women used to see me and smile, but now I walk
The earth unobserved and words become a long silence.
If I tell you how much I miss making love
to sit in the park with a girl and see the moon while
smoking cigarettes, inhaling its promise of love to come
The aroma of her hair, the smoothness of her thighs
to kiss her libido and drink her sweet water, her legs
Apart, she has given herself to me.
Asleep, enfolded we are, tomorrow is far away.
My old hands remember so much, I bow my head and try
to inhale from my hands what once was
It is all so hopeless, and soon enough I will be dead.
in a springg board pan
layer a graham cracker crust
with graham crackers and
shortbread cookies
2 cup of graham crackers
2 cups of shortbread cookie
1 c of butter
3 cups of softened cream cheese
2 cups of melted butter pecan ice-cream
1/2 cup of sugar
3 eggs
4 tablespoons of cornstarch
2 tablespoons of flour
1 teaspoon of vanilla
3 tablespoon of nut liquer
1/2 of butter
1/4 c of chocolate chips
1/4 c of dried bananas
in a large mixing bowl
use a hand mixer
combine til a creamy smoothness bake for 35 minute allow to cool
top with strawberries and glaze
and whipped cream!
So can there be a dreamlike place
Where sympathy controls?
Where friendly kindness fills the space
No traps or tricks or holes.
A place where treachery slides away
And smoothness paves the path today
For those who have no sense of ease,
Whose struggles never cease?
Yes, yes, indeed, there is a place
Where hopes and future have a face.
Not made of things, nor merely matter
Not loads and loads of useless chatter.
Good hope is real in reach of all
Whose voices call, their needs confessing
And then proceed to trust the love
The sacrificial Calvary love of Jesus,
Precious Jesus.
And can there be another place
Where love and kindness find their space
A place where carefulness controls
Where tricks and treachery
Fall in holes
And smoothness paves
The daily paths
Of those
Who have no sense of ease,
Whose struggles never seem to cease?
Yes, indeed, there is a place
Where hopes and future have a face.
Not made of things not merely matter
Not loads and loads of useless chatter.
True hope is real
In reach of all
Whose voices call
Confessing need
And then proceed
To trust that love
That holy love
Of precious, precious Jesus.
while i was passing by
in aisle five
i overheard
“get help”
she happened to glance at me
and by 6:03
i happened to think
what if she said
“get well”
and i don’t know who
and i wasn’t there
but i know
when i’ve heard it before
if it wasn’t condescendingly
had one pound of empathy
i would’ve been
more likely
we all have days
that get swept in the haze
of just trying to stay alive
2 steps forward, 1 step back
but it feels like rewinding 5
after drawing a circle or two
you wish you didn’t need to be doing footwork your whole life
it’s like a birthday balloon
in a crowded room
it’s all up in the air
the balloon falls down
you look around
and wonder if you all have circles there
in the clouds
but with the crowd
sometimes you hear in the way they speak
the toughened clay
they molded that day
to prevent from appearing weak
you feel the way it sounded
they’re trying to keep it grounded
you see the smoothness of their rock
because they’re silently wearing the erosion
it took for them
to become that soft
Steel insulation warm thin hot smooth downy shepherd smoothness. Pistol clasps palms crystal misses birching basket weavers.
Fluffy firm pedestals release hard deniers.
Doldrum office charts demonstrating
Appendages conceal resistance.
Halcyon boogie board heroes.
Greek play rehearsal.
Steel insulation warm thin hot smooth downy shepherd smoothness. Pistol clasps palms crystal misses birching basket weavers.
Fluffy firm pedestals release hard deniers.
Doldrum office charts demonstrating
Appendages conceal resistance.
Halcyon boogie board heroes.
Greek play rehearsal.
Sub Categories
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