Time reveals fragility
The status quo is a jester
A one-hit wonder
Soon lies under
The corpses of the investor
Entropy speeds up
Clinging to the last quarter
Tides recede
As they need
To find a new supporter
full-blown ruby-red
reflects winter’s chill and woe
wanders past mirror
in dark home, queen ponders snow
preps duplicitous apples
This old lighthouse wants to say,
about the cold clouds of gray.
When it rained all night and day,
with the keeper wanting to pray.
Then the sun would come out to play,
making the blue sea a pretty highway.
This old lighthouse saw many ships,
some sailed by and some smashed like a souffle.
Sailing by were many birds of prey,
telling the old lighthouse it was like a cast away.
Old lighthouse even on Christmas day,
I can not getaway.
For the old lighthouse and keeper was it judgment day?
Why did the keeper want to stay?
Why not just run away?
The keeper knew he could not leave ~ no way,
telling God they both were not a runway.
Storytelling
Each of us has stories to tell if only we had the
courage to try
But what if they laugh at me?
or worse say they don’t like what I wrote
I don’t think I could survive that,
laying bare my story, exposing my
most raw hour
We must uplift our future storytellers at every turn
Stories are where we can safely moor, set our
anchor, rest and write
Fortune telling squirrel was dressed to the sevens
She had things to tell us, that puffed some up to elevens.
She had nothing to say to my cousin that weird day.
We left disappointed, no more reason to stay.
It’s odd she had so much to tell the rest of us I said.
No one likes me said my cousin, she’s always full of dread.
She only lasted one week more, my cousin, Ilene.
Which might be what the all-seeing squirrel had seen.
every species has probably not been discovered
many unnamed creatures live deep down in the sea
undiscovered, untouched, unknown
occasionally one might venture up into the air
taking a tiny peek at the world of the sky
showing herself to a sailor or two
people who are rarely believed when they tell the tale
a chosen few humans who see what no one else ever will
Fair-heart to broken-hearts no one could be,
Man seldom in this world humane could be,
Forbid me, but in today’s telling times,
Rights-raven scarce duty-driven could be.
__________________________
Translation | 07.11.2025 | duty, heart, human, raven, quatrain
Note: Hak-pasanda = rights-raven, one who’s conscious of his rights and privileges, Hukamaraan = duty-driven, or conscious about his responsibilities. The transliteration of the Urdu follows:
Tute diloñka koi kadardan na ho saka,
Insan is jahan meiñ insan na ho saka,
Hairan huñ maiñ ke aj ke is dor meiñ kabhi
Kyuñ hak-pasand koi hukamaran na ho saka? - Basheer, a poet from Kashmir
(“Tapestry”, 2025, original encaustic)
Have you ever been taken in by the story
Delivered some place foreign and strange
Yet familiar and true?
Of course you have, as all humans do.
Vocalized, visualized, subliminally dreamed
That is our lot.
From bedtime stories to books and movies
Our lives leap gladly into the novel.
And oh what awaits us there!
Portals and corridors
Into what transcends the individual
And so transcends even our humanity.
I dreamt once of being a bridge
Literally not figuratively
And I’m sure I’ve also dreamt of being
More animate nonhuman things
The dream after all
In all its animate and inanimate forms
Is simply a creation of our mind
Our mind made illusively flesh and fiber
Fueled with all the tinder of waking experience
But brought to a frothing boil
By something more
Something that only comes alive
Taking form and shape
In the telling.
(11/15/25)
a cooling, refreshing contrast
the others provided a richer smoker
taste
a subtle but effective aromatic depth
a floral a bright, a citrusy, accent
consistent and smooth
each compliments the other
blending the sweet ripe taste
of both cherry and strawberries
Bing Chelan and Sweet Kiss,
Mara des Bois stands out as favorites
Natchez throneless sweetness are to
in consideration as Darrow Ponce or Apache
The Triple Crown stands out front
to provide flavor to the full richness of a blend
A creation of a product to be marveled
the world abroad. The felt jacket
may not have been a great choice
as it collected everything
from pet fur and hair.
Because the left will tell you what the right envision
so when the right is talking the left doesn’t listen
morals and emotions make contractual decisions
got you voting against what the other isn’t
are you left leaning because you’re right deficient
Written By: D. Collins 9/29/25
The only people in America, that's ever acknowledged me.
Was Abraham Lincoln and the and the brothers Kennedy.
They went outside the lines which cost them their lives.
We just silence anyone who believes in equal rights.
Now here we are in the year twenty-twenty-five.
And, that hatred for others is very much alive.
Unless it is directed towards the state of Isreal.
You're convicted and facing a long stint in jail.
There ain't nothing wrong with telling the truth.
That ten-times hatred that was thrown at you.
This ain't no gossip, just ask any black man.
How the police departments became the Klan.
Restless clouds hide
the sun and stars
as I drive alone.
A voice on the radio
asks what is important
now. My bones ache
and I embrace my dreams
as clouds pass overhead.
The voice talks about visions
of children as their lives lie
ahead, but I am older.
The tires on my car sing
as I embrace the moment,
but memories find their way
back to me and sit by my side.
I see the many faces of love.
I still hear their voices
the conversations, feeling the warmth
of every stolen moment
in the corner of a room.
The radio talks about time
about how it passes but is never lost.
The small town on The Mississippi
awakens with a whisper
and the river always flows.
The sun breaks through clouds
and glistens upon waters as they stir—
a revelation.
Every day I’m learning
to live again.
I've seen the underbelly of your persona.
The despise you feel for La Verona.
A hate you spew because I'm a woman.
Hit me again, although you know you shouldn't.
And I know the examples life set before you,
Didn't show you the conclusions you should have come to .
That when you're upset you should not bruise my body,
And telling me you love me isn't the same is being sorry.
I sit here smug, my secret in place,
With a quiet cheesy grin upon my face.
They ask me, beg me, play I-spy, and pry —
But nope! Not me folks! I'm not telling why!
They try to read signs stuck on my lips
Unzip all my social internet blips and syncs.
To see the steely poker-face stare lurking
behind the smoke-screen tease, smirking,
Revealing a wink, a shrug, a side-glance-sigh.
But nobody knows, and I'm not telling why.
Some truth about our body:
Our body remembers absolutely everything
It remembers what you don't remember
The body reacts to danger
It lives or buries unlived in feelings and emotions
It tells a moment what's happening around you
Through physical reactions and state of health
It's enough to learn to notice and interpret them
Observe your body how suddenly contracted
It has a lump in your chest or throat
Your arms shaken
Your legs become woolen
When you stop breathing
Breathing is shallow and shallow
Feel the moment
Feel the reaction
Figure it out
Respond something in yourself
Find time the quality of your life.
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