Columbus and Vespucci charted the sea foam,
their star-studied maps taking them far from home~
till their helmsman did say,
“Hey, take your sextants away…
you ancient sea-souls, get a room for your tome.”
ART OF IMAGINATION-
evokes
possible
meaningful
&
sequenced
.ideas
through
allegorical
pictures
easy
emperical
experiences
of
tentatively
reveries
never fully
explored
studied
semiotics
appreciatively
&
charmingly
decorative
Standing on a billion shoulders,
together we reach great heights.
Proudly, we scream the stories of our lives.
Someone ought to give an Oscar to all of us—
rewarding us for our deeds,
for living the fullest,
for crying the loudest.
The moment we came to Earth,
we all added unique paint,
each one sparkling the world,
the beautiful canvas, in the end,
together we prepared.
We solved the great mysteries of the universe,
dominated infinite fields,
yielded lots of love,
the cheerful Earth we together keep.
We all are artists—
great ones,
evolved the world,
lived through every hail,
studied the magic,
together we sail.
The future holds a different genre.
Climbing the ladder of eight billion Oscars,
they will reach a higher peak,
a more vibrant canvas we'll seek.
I did not study
I failed, so I studied more.
I failed a wrong test
I met her in a dream at a washing station in Bangladesh
I might have tried to hold her hand by the thread she held
Which passed through the interior of a manicured shrub
Severely cut into the form of a dense sunless topiary ball
So tightly was it manicured to create a studied appearance
Of formal stability and calm that no air or sunlight reached its interior
And you could smell the rot from inside at a distance
And hear the screams of a six-year-old child from inside as well
Calling out desperately from the rot for attention and care
That I might follow the thread and see into the plant I dare not go
For there were broken off rotten limbs of its trunk lying by its side
From those who tried to reach the centre of the shrub before
So, I held back my desire to reach the centre and stopped out the noise.
I sat in the sunlight of what was once northern India and wondered at life’s destruction
Where none of Shiva’s many arms could penetrate into planned obstruction for aid
And the course of fate finds its way into unexpected dreams on night pillows rest.
I was waiting for you for so long.
I knew from shortly after our start,
It is with me you fatefully belong.
Your love reassembled my broken heart.
I studied things you very early on in life knew.
I knew rebirth and star readings are real.
With my soul as old as yours, not much is new.
I know it is when I am with you, I truly feel.
I felt when we met, it was somehow a reunion.
I felt I was meeting an old friend after ages.
I talk to you as though we are in communion.
At times, my soul recalls how we were sages.
I was learning about you for years and years.
I learned how to love and understand you.
I also learned to overcome many taught fears.
Our love is part of good karma long overdue.
That summer weight of a bibliophile,
my reading list has been growing a while.
Waiting for the backdrop of the ocean
to hurriedly crack open a new one.
Stuff your beach bag fill up your E-reader
Summer is here the weather is warmer.
It’s finally time to lighten the load,
with all the excitement I might explode.
A new author a new world to explore,
I soak it up and get hungry for more.
Riding shotgun down a fictitious road
I studied a law that became the code.
With every lesson making me stronger
the next chapter just needs to get longer.
So hard to beat such solitary fun,
that never needs an okay from someone.
Scarfing it all up I’m so full meanwhile
I lose the weight of a bibliophile.
From the curvings of forgotten history, a device was born,
Forged with the wisdom of ages, and secrets yet unworn.
It held a mirror that measured beauty beyond the eye,
And painted the perfect version of a mortal passing by.
It studied every face, every smile, every graceful line,
Suggested robes of wonder and designs almost divine.
When tested upon the world, its numbers never fell,
Humanity celebrated the machine that knew beauty so well.
But while it travelled home, a soul ran past its sight,
A fleeting glimpse of her, gone within a moment's flight.
The machine trembled softly, its calculations turned strange,
Its perfect laws shattered under a beauty it couldn't arrange.
The mirror cracked into silence, the suggestions lost their flame,
No cloth, no jewel, no colour could ever define her name.
The device, defeated by something beyond its creation,
Displayed a final message: a beautiful revelation.
"The beauty you seek cannot be captured, measured, or chained,
It rises beyond clouds where imagination has remained.
It is not found in mirrors, nor in what eyes can see,
For true beauty is the universe escaping its own decree."
Mesmerized by your chrysanthemum smile,
I drifted in bliss inside the halo
of your gladioli gaze
and as I studied the grace
of that forget-me-not face,
I memorized your metaphors
and your many luscious similies,
like the lushness of your eyelashes
that frame your wide, ebony eyes
as if they were the wisps
of delicate cirrus clouds
adrift in a crystal sky.
And so it is
your face will forever
be stenciled
on the fabric of my mind,
for you are my
ever-marvelous, magical muse.
A multitude of the hues of you
are exquisitely inked
indelibly
in my soul.
The Door
Kevin Davis 2026
The door was closed when I stepped in the room,
what waited behind it — joy or quiet doom?
I longed to open it, see for myself,
With no one to ask and no counsel to help.
No whisper of sound from the other side,
no glimmer of light from the threshold to hide.
But still I was curious, wanting to know,
Certain something was amiss in the shadowed glow.
I studied the knob — the keyway was bare,
no bolt in the lock, no latch to declare.
So, I gripped it gently and turned to the right;
It moved without effort and opened to sight.
The room was as dark as a moonless night,
and nothing within it gave shape to my fright.
I steadied my breathing before stepping through,
when a voice behind asked, “What are you trying to do?”
I leapt in the air and spun toward the sound,
A towering figure, a ghoul, standing ground.
“I meant no intrusion, no harm, no offense
Just curious wandering, nothing intense.”
The ghoul gave a laugh, warm, rumbling, free,
“No harm was done — come look with me.”
He flicked on the lights and welcomed me in,
A room wide and pleasant, inviting within.
CHARLES MADILANA MOOKWA
“AKA” THE DANCING MAD MAN
Who is this mad dancing man?
If you knew his story, you’d be shocked to the core.
Charles graduated cum laude in Arts — the highest honour.
The wonderful Charles. The magnificent Charles.
He studied abroad, interned abroad, played the lead in a theatre series.
The centre stage was what he was born for.
Then came December.
He went home for the holidays and bought his mother a car.
That car took her life.
After that, Charles was never the same.
He never went back abroad.
The director tried to reach him. No luck.
He fell into a web of mental problems, roaming the streets he once performed on.
They call him the Dancing Mad Man now.
But 4 weeks felt like 4 years of misfortune.
One December trip home left him scarred for life.
The wonderful Charles.
The magnificent Charles.
A man without wings, who fell to the ground he came from.
February 28th. It was like any other day.
When she washed her face and
looked in the mirror, she didn't know she was leaving
the earth.
She was only 9 years old, and her sister, 11, died there too. After
reading her story,
I studied her picture
and began to form a bond with her. I
imagined her at her graduation, with beaming pride.
How did she die, instantly I hope.
Her smile haunts me, and I 'm now fixated on the prayer
around her neck, wondering why it did n't protect her?
I still believe miracles happen.
She sits in silence with a shepherd's smile
simple but demure
strikingly, a quiet allure
lips painted with moonlight
how I dare to get near
and slightly brush away the fear
a look, a glance, a studied eye
but if just once, he wonders why
he sits in silence with a shepherd's smile
taking in her all
a simple task
a longing ask
to brush the hair
out of her eyes
it's just one kiss
one simple chance
one beautiful life
There once was a woman named Mona
Who loved the sight of a b*ner
A bloke went up a notch
If she studied his crotch
And he impressed the girl from Verona.
One day Nobita learned Doraemon would fade,
His memories lost, every bond they had made.
So Nobita swore, “I’ll fix you, my friend,”
No matter the cost, I’ll fight till the end.
From weak and unsure to brilliance and light,
He studied through days and struggled through nights.
Step by step, with a dream standing tall,
He rose as a genius, surpassing it all.
Years later he came, with hope in his eyes,
To fix Doraemon, his greatest surprise.
But Doraemon stood there, with no trace of past,
Not knowing the friend who loved him so vast.
Nobita held on, tears falling like rain,
“I did it for you,” he whispered in pain.
Then deep in his heart, a feeling arose,
A bond beyond time that silently grows.
No memory needed, no past to defend,
Their souls still remembered — forever as friends. ??
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