I was born with the meaning of home
running through my veins,
like sunlight weaving
through branches,
casting warmth on cold earth.
In shadows, I gathered light,
each ray a promise,
each beam a whisper
filling spaces of despair.
With hands outstretched,
I became a gardener,
planting seeds of love
in the soil of his heart,
tending to wounds like petals.
The forest listened,
its soft sighs a chorus,
as I sought the truth
beneath layers of leaves,
light revealing paths to safety.
In the courtroom’s embrace,
I stood tall, a lighthouse,
shining bright for him,
a beacon guiding him home,
where love flows like a river.
Adopted early after birth
Replanted back into the earth
From small to tall, a tiny root
Withstanding all and resolute
It whispered and it whistled
Every wind song that it knew
It's verdant needles bristled
Glistening in frost and dew
A friend to all both large and small
Seeking refuge in it's shade
To rest and recline, with the fresh smell of pine
And a songbird serenade
From green, to red, to rust, to brown
Giving all it had left, back to the ground
A pine that spent it's time worthwhile
Living life with grace and dying with style
It taught me how to dance in the wind
Whenever it howls, be willing to bend
It taught me how to whistle a song
While giving back, as life moves along
Like you and I, trees live and die
When death comes young we question "why?"
The answer is, it's all by design
Down to the death of a hardy young pine.
Daniel Turner
A wall stands tall, a line in the sand
Dreams on hold, as hope slips from hand
Yet hearts still soar, across the divide
For freedom's call done right cannot be denied
© daniel miltz
Author Dana Redricks
November 5, 2024
You're a strong black woman, who’s had her share of disappointments and pain, but you never let it make you bitter; instead, you turned it into gain.
Through every trial and test, you rise higher to face every test, never staying down, each challenge only made you better, polishing your crown.
You hustle for everything you've got, with grit and fierce pride, in every step you take, with strength and grace by your side. In a world that often tries to bend, you stand unbroken, you stand tall, a testament to resilience, the beauty of it all.
Your heart holds stories of struggle, but also of endless hope, in the tapestry of your life, every thread helps you cope. So here’s to you, a woman of immense power and grace, in your journey and your triumphs, you inspire and amaze.
I envision triumph, a future aglow
A difference maker in academia's hallowed halls I'll grow
My primary years, a labyrinth of sound
English spoken, a nightmare that wrapped me around
My father's decree, a mandate to conform
English only, a language to adorn
But I was disadvantaged, a sibling apart
Their English-speaking school, a world that left me to depart
Then came Victory Academy, Isua Akoko's shining light
Where literacy and spoken English ignited my sight
I rose through the ranks, Language Prefect, a title I bore
Under Hon. Alabi and Mr. Oladokun's guidance, I explored
Today, I stand tall, a specialist in Education's noble quest
Literature in English and the language itself, I've mastered and possessed
My journey, a testament to perseverance and might
A triumphant tale of overcoming, shining with delight.
Come sit and talk a spell, dear wind,
Whisper soft where you’ve been,
Through valleys green, past mountain tops,
In twilight’s hush, where day’s light stops.
Tell me, waves, of the ocean deep,
Where secrets swirl and shadows creep.
Your endless pulse, a song so true,
Lull me now, beneath skies blue.
Oh seas, you cradle the world in time,
Swaying slow with rhythm and rhyme.
Do ships still dance upon your crest,
And dream of shores, of peaceful rest?
Leaves, come chatter in your flight,
Waltzing free in golden light.
The bushes hum with a quiet grace,
As trees stand tall, a leafy embrace.
In the hush of evening’s sigh,
Let’s sit and talk, just you and I.
The world spins slow when nature speaks,
In whispers soft and secrets deep.
A Warrior in Conceal.
In a room stands tall a mirror clear,
Revealing a reflection that deceived the world with a smile.
When I recognized it, my eyes poured out a tear,
And it was clear that the reflection was mine all the while.
It asks my nights of silent tears and struggle,
To expose the truth my false smile would never reveal.
It showcased the unspoken love under my heart's rubble,
And unveiled all my wounds that time could never heal.
My reflection speaks: "Accept and learn to heal,
Don’t run or hide, but face the wounds you bear.
I'm proud of you, a warrior through conceal,
For in your heart, gain strength to face despair.
Next time you stand before me, let me feel
A reflection, freed from past wounds, and completely healed."
Hybronnet Poem, 14 lines, 10 syllables per line.
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Brown, white, grey, black crown, across breast black band
Colors saturated with calm grassland
Too Heavy for a bird, too tall a bird
Too less vision, too shy to fly a third
A Haughty look, loves clear view, regal stance
Just 140 left in the world, at glance
The Great Indian Bustard now rare bird
Changing landscapes pushing it to a word
Rewilding is a lie, damage control,
Programs, Funds, afforestation, all swell
Management, Planning are scrabble words play
Critically endangered bird display
A barren land, for want of just land clear
Piece of undisturbed grassland, now so dear
In the rugged expanse of life's rough terrain,
No path laid out, no guiding hand to explain.
Mountains loom tall, a maze to unravel,
Obstacles and messes, chaos to travel.
But atop those peaks, your dreams take flight,
A crown of glory gleaming in sight.
Through the rocky path, your heart must wade,
Trials to conquer, courage to parade.
Fearless and bold, a hero in your stride,
Break the mountain, let your spirit glide.
Sweat and might your path will refine,
Carve through stone, let your brilliance shine.
Shun the whispers of doubt that taunt,
Victory's beacon, your spirit to flaunt.
Break the shackles hindering your track,
Forge ahead boldly, never looking back.
Thorns may pierce, tears may silently fall,
No comfort, no solace, no aiding call.
Alone you climb with grace and grit,
Writing your name, history to commit.
A golden chronicle, your triumph bright,
Strength and light, conquering the night.
Persist through loneliness, persevere in strife,
Your journey's tale, a testament of life.
Ongoing war
A not tall, a rather pudgy little man
who is an absolute ruler over his twenty million-something inhabitants
Got visited by another powerful man, who is slim
but not tall like his diplomat
the fat man was happy, had his country turning out
waving flags, their dance and jubilation
photo taken, fraternity and contracts signed
For the absolute ruler, who had his brother killed
to be sure of his power, it was a great opportunity
to take, not so tall man, around looking at things
the visitor had won a war and was in high spirits, smiled
patted his strands of hair and asked himself
since his host harvests hair as a big business, should he ask for a discreet rug?
He decided not to ask, his face is so well known
that jokers in the foreign press would make jokes
make him look vain
He did the masculine thing, buying artillery shells
instead, not that he needs a lot to know
but one never knows what hysteric people can do
those who cannot accept defeat.
Were I to stretch my feet on floor,
The walls would lead me to the door.
If I walk tall, a bit unbent,
If not the roof my head would dent.
If only should I sleep all crawled—
As per the training I had ere
In my mother’s womb when I dwelled,
That training all the fruits now bear.
Yet, grieve not O my burial ground,
All crawled I’ll lie in a small grave,
Precious space of graveyard to save,
Descends when that death-seeking hound.
If need be, at the time when dead,
I can sleep yogi-like seated.
__________________________________
Sonnet |03.10.2023| grave, house
In nature's realm, where life can bloom,
Bushes dance with trees, in nature's room.
With branches strong and leaves so green,
The trees stand tall, a wondrous scene.
But look closer, through poetic haze,
A hidden tale, where metaphor plays.
Bushes, soft and lush, they do entice,
Vibrant and alive, like paradise.
And trees, they rise, with vigor and might,
Symbols of strength, reaching the light.
In harmony they sway, a sensual affair,
Nature's passion woven, beyond compare.
Yet let us not reduce, to mere crude words,
For nature's beauty needs no borrowed birds.
Let bushes be bushes, trees be trees,
And in our minds, let love find its ease.
A poetess, I found so rare,
Cute or sweet? I can't compare.
Her thoughts soar high above the crowd,
A poetess, unique and proud.
She is a nut with a tough exterior,
But inside, a tender tree grows superior,
A seed of potential, slowly taking root,
With time and care, it'll bear sweet fruit.
She drifts off to sleep by the gentle river's sound,
Mountains stand tall, a comforting presence all around,
Springs provide a solace in times of sorrow,
And the sea inspires her mind to explore tomorrow.
She guards her fickleness with graceful ease,
Sensuality hidden, but thoughts that tease.
Her intelligence beyond measure, quite rare,
Beauty that radiates, a dazzling affair.
She dreams of a future where she'll make a mark,
As a doctor with a heart that shines in the dark.
Yet, for all her medical expertise,
Needles make her shiver and freeze.
Amidst her life's rainbow, white reigns supreme,
But midnight blue and pink, like a dream,
Add contrast and depth to her life's theme,
A colorful canvas, a vibrant scene.
Once he was a hero, bold and true,
Defender of the weak, protector of the few.
But now his heart is heavy, his spirit torn,
For his love, his life, has been taken by his sworn.
He tried to save her, to protect her from harm,
But his nemesis was too strong, his power too vast.
In the end, he could only watch as she came to harm,
His heart shattered, his soul torn in half.
Now he wanders, lost and alone,
His heart empty, his purpose unknown.
He once fought for justice, for truth and for right,
But now, without her, he no longer sees the light.
He may still have his powers, his strength and his might,
But without her, he is nothing, a mere shadow in the night.
He once stood tall, a beacon of hope,
But now he is broken, his spirit unable to cope.
He may still fight the good fight,
But without her, it's all for naught.
For without his love, his reason for being,
He is just a shell, a hero no longer seeing.
*Image of Small Beginnings by iStock.
In JULY: Small Begins Mightily
This is July's marks, Fall takes a breather,
so cat hiss, dog bark, who'd backed off--neither,
Fall takes a breather, this is July's marks,
who'd backed off--neither, so cat hiss, dog bark.
A rare sorta scene, a Christmas tree lot,
what if they're closed, Irene, let's ask what they've got,
a Christmas tree lot, a rare sorta scene,
let's ask what they've got, what if they're closed, Irene?
Kids clinched, yes sweetheart, as dog barks, cat hiss,
'Tis keepsakes take part my good sir, and miss,
as dog barks, cat hiss, kids clinched, yes sweetheart,
My Good sir and miss, 'tis keepsakes take part.
A buck for the small, twenty for the big,
we'll return when tall, a buck for that twig,
twenty for the big, a buck for the small,
a buck for that twig, we'll return when tall.
2022 July 30
*4th Place*
Christmas in July or July Celebration
~~Tania Kitchin: Judged 2022 August
*Rhyme Reversal
RZ aabb, ccdd, eeff, gghh. HMS 10 syllables per 16 lines.
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