Written: September 21, 2026, not for contest
**********
What alchemy resides within the heart,
Where every pulse can tincture blood with hue—
Now umbered by wounds of grief's old art,
Now aureate beneath a love made new.
It hoards its red summers, violet nights,
Then bleaches sorrow into winter-white;
A crystal turning grief to fractured lights,
A stained-glass soul transfigured by the night.
Some days it wears the ochre robe of doubt,
Some days the cobalt vestment of despair;
Yet dawn may coax the buried roses out
And scatter molten amber through the air.
For hearts, like skies, are never one fixed blue;
They darken, blaze, and bloom—and start anew.
You are red sun in my gray cloudy sky
Cheering me on despite blues in life
I look up and see your beautiful light
From gold glowing soul such a delight
As white wind beneath my brown wing
You carry cranberry heart love inspiring
Your yellow whimsical smile like spring
Give rise to sapphire songbirds that sing
You are as sweet as sap from green tree
Lime cure your laugh defeats melancholy
Moonlight carves path from Black Sea
That is teal tragic past rebirth’s dream
Your heart is a love flower warm opening
Even in rain shower you power positivity
I can look at you for hours inhaling peace
You empower what nectar is to a bee
I was never worth for living on this earth,
I was just a dust particle made to be thrown in the dirt.
I wonder why God would have made such an ugly face and broken Soul,
He must have thought, "Oh, that's the person everyone should ignore".
I genuinely don't know if I'll be alive till I'm 20,
Even if I am my soul would be already empty.
I Really wish I could die soon,I don't want to be a burden on anyone on this earth.
I never really got anyone who can love me,
It felt like an act everyone had to show me .
I hope i die with my thoughts of being happy for once in my lifetime, hoping they contain his little smile.
I don't want anything, I'm just trying to survive.
I live for the days,hoping I'll see his damn smile.
His voice is no longer in my ears, his face is like fading shadow haunting my memories.
Unfortunately I will forget his soul.
I will go back to my younger self again try to be happy in my empty void hole.
Wouldn’t it be sad to live without
A little hope to understand
What our immortal soul’s about
To recognize and represent?
And who would say “Good morning, dear
How’s the forecast on BBC?
I sense the damp in atmosphere
Draw back the curtain, let me see”
And who would answer “Yes, you’re right
It’s drizzling, but the sky gets clearer
How was your blood glucose last night?
No shooting up and down, my dear?”
What actors could’ve played that action?
The voice of yours, your smiling face
Mean more than childlike mind abstraction
We used to cherish in our faith
And what it’s like, remains obscure
But I suppose, “there are more things”
If you could come to reassure
I’ll hear from afar your rings..
Spirit-starved
sate my hunger if you will
humour me with comedy
'til I'm full and had my fill
for if music be the food of love
and laughter music of the soul
feast me on a funny song
nothing serious but something droll
tickle my funny bone with a tone
to make my toes all wriggle
and nourish me on melody
let me have a heartfelt giggle
With apologies to William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
My Soul is Tired
Sometimes the darkness can swallow you whole to where there's no end in sight. The soul struggles and fights praying to be guided to what's right, but the darkness over comes and the soul becomes numb to all the pain and suffering you've witnessed throughout your life. Your soul reads like a novel every page engraved of your struggles. You often re-read those pages to make sense of it all praying the ending will bring fire to your soul. The pain, the suffering, the good and bad had penetrated your soul by all you've had. Your soul can only observe so much suffering before tiredness sets in and there is no light only darkness within. The soul must sleep and write the end of the novel of your life from beginning to end.
LAUGHING EYES
by Frank Daub
Girl with laughing eyes
beneath the slate-blue skies
and melting sun
I see the excitement of your being
Shimmer --
Reflecting youth into a gentle kind
of image
Meaningful.
The rain of April skies completes
Your soul.
She sits there perfectly serene.
Her heart is at peace.
Her soul basks in harmony.
She soaks up the sun divinely blissful.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Written: September 13, 2026, for a contest Sponsored by: Joseph May
Verified by HMS.COM: 8 - 10 - 7 - 9 - 6 - 8 - 8/ Syllables Count
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Beneath bruised blue, yet my soul soars —
While weary winds waning, I prance past pain —
Bees buzz bring dazzling delight—
Dreams dance; at daybreak dewy descend —
Sly stars shine, in bold breeze
Souls spew sadness; bleeding buds bloom —
Flowered Fall finds halcyon hearts —
Nature
wills it so
that life
must always
adapt.
And evolve
when small
mutations
spark change.
Sentient
beings
seek out God,
for life
claims a soul;
to ascend.
Look within your heart and,
You will realize the beauty,
You have always had.
Listen to your heart and soul,
Because that will tell you,
Every thing you need to know.
Ignore the background noise,
People who don't understand,
Will just say things, that don't matter.
With one look I feel you,
Are the heart in my soul.
Your eyes show me everything,
That your heart is not saying.
My heart only beats for you.
I reach for your hands,
Saying, Please don't go,
When I see the tears in your eyes,
As you take me in your arms,
Saying only one word, Home.
I awake and here I am,
naught but a mere mortal man.
Why came I this weak way,
restrained in fragile skin,
little but stiffened clay,
imprisoned as are all men?
Flesh will away, that soon day,
to the dust where it had been.
Then I will really be Me,
with mind and soul soaring free.
- Darrell Simmerman copyright 2024
I tried to preserve the wilting flower,
Tried to protect it from its pain.
I did my best but failed at love,
And everything with my heart is to blame.
Aldo's soul is alive God
Because you kept him alive God
Aldo's soul is dirty with
Blood stains
PIease God wash aldo's soul
And make it whiter than snow
After you wash Aldo's soul
Put a band aid so that the cut can heal
Because AIdo knows there is a
Cut in his soul
The cut is small , the size of his
Little fingers
You need not write, nor even to speak
for your soul is a poem, one which is read
by my heart.
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