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..
I never told her I loved her;
Back then I was much too shy.
Always fearing rejection,
I let opportunities pass me by.
I thought she was too good for me,
I wouldn’t stand a chance.
And that she’d only laugh at me
If I asked her for a dance.
I bumped into her yesterday,
Her family in tow
And we got to chatting of
Those school days long ago.
She said, “I have a secret,
That no-one ever knew.
All the time we were at school,
I really fancied you.”
Higher, through this loftier
Discretion of mind
Than what does flash, sky-winging
To Earth's space confined
Places one, which bright state in
Is joy's true Heaven.
Clearer, purer. Whose source is
God. Ever risen.
Lyre-clasping, a warbler, too
Myself, of love songs.
Miss, smiling meek, attested!
Which trait there belongs!
we were
always burdened
by the
captivating chatter
discreetly hostel
last likely
a shew
proposition to
reconsider southwest
precook texarkana
thickened tangy
ambition crookedly
fluster and
recognizable flake
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 31–September 6, 2026)
At five years, what matters fits within one hand—
A beetle, a stone, a fistful of warm, soft sand.
Five fingers close around each thing that's new;
What matters is what a little hand, can hold as true.
At fifteen, what matters is the watching crowd.
To be yourself, but not too different, odd or loud.
The crowd's glances matter, weighing who they see.
Their recognition shapes who you might want to be.
At thirty, what matters gathers into something more.
More keys, more names, more feet across the floor.
Fingers grip the proof of what they've built and own;
What matters is the weight, the way they have grown.
At fifty, what matters turns from having more, to needing less.
From what is treasured, to what's measured in tenderness.
The fingers loosen their grip on what they used to hold.
An open hand held out to greet, outweighs the fist of gold.
At seventy, what matters circles back to five.
The smallest things again, feel the most alive.
Old fingers touch the morning's silver dew—
A reaching hand seeks to feel, to touch, and renew.
Tangled tree bark on the ground,
hear the bush sounds all around.
Birds and leaves are here with me
and other things that I can’t see.
Even trying very hard, there are those things
from which I’m barred.
With those things I cannot see,
the bush has given peace to me.
the more simple things are the better
To
this blue
lawn
came
the lutenist
Thulia whose
snow
belt whistled "WEALTH!" to town-
ish bullies bent on howling down the
bowl-
ing hall of whatnots just arrived
for Beast or Plunge Day.
Do you think things through?
There will come a time
when you just give up
and tell God “just take it over”
God will hear you
And will grant your wishes
I just blurted out one day
And told God to take it over
Take it over
because I am powerless and helpless
No
Take it over
because I am through
and done with
Take it over because I can’t do it anymore
Whatever it is
God will heed your wishes
Don’t think He doesn’t hear you
I wasn’t too sure if He will grant it to me
And I know everything is in His own time
when He wants to do it
So I go about my daily life
forgetting all about it
Until He granted it one day
Today
Today is the day
He is in control of my life
Today is the day that He takes over
And I ceded control
Did you know you are not in control anyway?
As He is in control
God is in control
And for a moment earlier
I thought I was in control
And you too
God will let you think you have control
Until you find out you have no control
And ask Him take over
Be my guest
Ask God tonight
And He will grant it to you
when you least expect it
That is my lesson for today
Live and learn
But learn it quickly okay?
Morning drifts through the room, its softness laying on everything.
Objects hold their breath, waiting for names that never fully arrive.
In the quiet between things, incompleteness becomes its own kind of grace.
Life is so often very ordinary
with things to do, so that's mundane
but they just must be done
without them life wouldn't be the same
Shopping has to be done weekly
for them we couldn't eat
some food we like, others not
our tastes vary just like our feet
Sometimes we've got responsibilities
to support loved ones at home
they need medicine or special drinks
or even just to recite a poem
Our vehicles need to be checked upon
so we can drive them every day
fill up with fuel for a journey
keep them clean and tidy on the way
There's so much to be done
we need to be healthy and so fit
then these mundane things of life
are done and so we don't quit
I met you in a solemn moment in my life
but you removed all my darkness with a single smile
from that first second of us locking eyes
I felt this burning love that I could never disguise
I waited by the bar that night expecting the same
now that I think about it I couldn’t tell you the names
of who I was with or the drinks in my hand
I remember hoping I was someone you’d understand
I tried to hide the rush of heat that moved through me
when you turned your head and suddenly I was all you could see
it’s like you saw my walls up and braved the climb
then you fell into my arms, and now you’re mine
nowadays when I wake I feel lighter step by step
having spent all those hours so close to your chest
with you, the mundane is never the same
you make me feel like I win every game
I long to be yours in every life time
things can get better, I take you as my sign
it's the little things that we miss out on that matter the most
I said to my Grandad one day
While packing the shopping away
"I'm gonna leave this
Pizza, four cheeses,
Out decreasing cooking time" - hooray!
"Did I just hear you right'
He chuckled away with delight,
'A pizza for Jesus?"
[ I don't believe this ]
"Four CHeeses..." I answered polite.
_.._ the dark thin arc of night cut sharp against the dark, a silver slice holding everything
.' .-'` I never voiced. The sky leans close listening for the quiet inside me. I walk beside
/ / the curve feeling its pull--a soft gravity made of longing. Stars drift around its edge like
| | like thoughts I meant to release. The crescent keeps them gathered in its half-light
\ '.__.; hollow. I lift my hands toward the arc hoping it will widen into truth. But it stays
'._ _.' narrow, guarded, a blade of silence. I follow its pale shimmer through the hush
`` of the world trusting that even a sliver of light can open.
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