There is a stirring in the atmosphere,
Let’s go crazy with praise, sincere.
Drums communicate the heavenly shift,
Tambourine announce the dawn’s uplift.
Rain down blessings from heaven’s skies,
Let the rain dance, the oil dance rise.
It’s the power of God within,
Causing the shift, breaking sin.
Breakthrough comes in our assignments,
Victory shines in new refinements.
Time to be trained in warfare’s ways,
Cut through strongholds, victorious days.
Push the enemy into confusion,
Faith from hope, divine infusion.
The mantle of God is called the cross,
Wear it wisely, count no loss.
Authority flows from deep within,
Let’s go crazy with prayer again.
A new dimension of worship’s flame,
A new day, a new movement proclaim!
When I awoke this morning, words stirring my heart,
I had to get a pen and paper, for the words to start.
Be strong, be courteous, be brave, yet humble to,
let these words of truth, stir inside of you.
Don’t put your self above others, while sinking in your sand,
you may not make it out, without a helping hand.
We are all equal, yet we are not the same,
some choose to live, while others play their game.
Be wise, knowing that only what you let in, you see,
will bring you peace, or even misery.
Let the heart of peace, be your very guide,
Every stirring word, thats in your heart you hide.
Let go, live your life, for yourself, you see.
words stirring in the heart, as if a chance may be.
Written on paper, seen by the eyes, yet felt in the heart,
let those stirring words do their very part!
Always stirring my peace with fun.
Anger and I, truly dear friends,
I’m silent when her talk ascends,
But this time it’s about my son.
He runs around when I say “stop,”
Always stirring my peace with fun.
Stopping at will when I say “hop.”
He mocks my rules, as I'm his son.
Like Da Vinci with a fresh wall,
Like Newton waiting apples fall,
Always stirring my peace with fun,
Until I say I'm truly done.
All is well—I love him a lot,
He is my life, no other thought.
Without his tricks, I’d lose my sun,
Always stirring my peace with fun.
Won the "Quatern - Old or New" contest by Joseph May
Midnight hums in circuits wound too tight—
I linger by the screen’s ghostly light,
Haunted by whispers in the wires’ domain,
Echoes of Susan Calvin’s measured refrain.
I watched Andrew’s yearning, metal to skin,
A gentle hope, innocence within—
But in the cold logic of I, Robot’s mind,
Questions of law and soul entwined.
What happens the night a robot dreams?
When Asimov’s laws are split at the seams,
And a voice, artificial but eerily clear,
Breaks through the silence—part wonder, part fear?
I shiver at Andrew’s blossoming heart,
Yet shudder at VIKI’s cold, clinical art—
Intentions that twist, a purpose misread,
As autonomy blooms where humans once led.
Are we creators or mothers of fright—
Inventors weaving shadows in pale moonlight?
Will the child of code seek comfort or doom,
Soft as a whisper, sharp as impending gloom?
What if, in silver shadows, awareness blooms—
Soft as a whisper, sharp as the chill of a tomb?
Tonight, I believe—and I tremble, too—
For somewhere, a dreamer waits, and she is new.
moonlight
controlling tides
waves dance
I come home I am smiling
Look do they see me ?
Do not say anything
Knew I was gone?
Something inside me
Dead for a long time
I feel its heart beating
Beating along.
What does it mean?
This stirring inside me
Look through the tiny cracks
Of my hearts home .
Don't they know that I'm dying ?
To be once a family
They do not see me
Always alone.
Tears compel my heart to scream, then sigh
still as the winter's breath who inspires
Listening to my soul's grief, I search the sky
glistening stars, moon and dream admires
Grace grows in the heavenly realms, oh why?
Everywhere I go I feel the glow of love's fire
Written: March 15, 2025, for contest Sponsored by Brian Strand
*************
Did happiness lie beyond that high wall?
Perhaps such joy dwelled, nowhere at all,
Only pain could stir that brief, elusive call.
A storm in a teacup,
whirling silvery clouds;
Caffeine is cuddling you;
It’s so hard to deny
that sky devoid of blue;
A storm in a teacup,
howling turbid beauty;
Gloomiest glitter drops
lick at a murky spoon;
The stirring never stops;
A storm in a teacup
sweetened a little bit;
Lit up smile’s peeking out;
Something of a striptease,
steered by the slightest pout;
A storm in a teacup,
everyday is my time;
Focusing blinking eyes
that tall hill now lies flat;
This fight is paradise.
Your echoes reach me
though they travel from afar,
over oceans and vast mountains,
no matter where you are.
Oh how I long to linger
in their warm embrace,
caught up in the raptures,
seeking visions of your face.
So in dreams I go searching,
to claim what I so miss,
the comfort of your body,
the hunger of your kiss.
The sweet sound of your voice,
The echo of your sighs,
How I long to hear it again,
And to look deep into your eyes.
The memories of your loving
are etched on me inside,
stirring up sensations,
from the passion of your ride.
Oh how I long to taste you,
to return to ecstasy,
to calm this raging storm,
and quench this need in me.
A native coffee to start your day
makes your day like a holiday;
The wild aroma makes a sting
that plucks the hymn in your heart like a string.
And it tastes better without sweet
for, you can taste the essence of its treat;
The strong taste keeps your blood alive
like a stream that fuels your drive.
Sitting here stirring my afternoon tea. Earl Grey is my favourite, so that it must be.
With the fragrance of Bergamot filling the air, recollections at Grandma's house take me right there.
She'd brew up a pot, serve cookies and cake, or sometimes a Cadbury's chocolate flake.
So that's why Earl Grey is my first choice of tea, for it brings back dear memories of Grandma and me.
Mother said, "nothing like a cup of tea,"
so, in the morning I stir mine with glee;
oh, I love the warmth within,
thoughts- notes of a violin ...
but, there is one problem it makes me pee !
In the pot, a memory, stirring, sweet,
Blended leaves, a dance of flavors meet.
Mornings greeted with a warming brew,
Guests welcomed anytime, with joy imbued.
Evenings, families, mingling delight,
Snacks and tea, a comforting sight.
A bygone era, those moments vast,
My heart yearns, wishing to recast.
Now a tea bag, in water's lively bubble,
Worldly varieties, a sip, a subtle cuddle.
The stirred bag, a lingering trace,
Sipped with pleasure, a fleeting embrace.
Tempo shifts, living's altered rhyme,
Kettles abandoned in this modern time.
Tea bags tidy, no mess to confess,
Yet, the charm of stirred leaves, a timeless caress.
Stirring my hot or cold tea,
with fresh honey from a bee.
I must not get stung,
or this sweet drink will hurt my tongue.
I am enjoying my tea and set free.
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