Though nothing changes, nothing stays intact.
Some places I have loved are shrunken, spoiled,
and sights I’ve carried with me are now soiled,
polluted. I’m confronted with the fact.
But Rome’s eternal, even when it’s sacked.
It’s comforting to know that, when I’ve toiled
to keep alive a vision, and recoiled
from ruination, I can yet exact
enormous pleasure from what still remains.
The brooding phantoms which I have to face
are ghosts of my past self. As vigour wanes,
it pains me to recall each trait and trace
of what I was, in catacomb campaigns,
whose faded glory saturates the place.
Outside in the barn one late summer eve
a seaman toiled until wee hours of night
Solid rock surrounded by wood and nail
just the right size for "The Serenity Sail"
She lit an old candle by the window,
recalling sweetly their brave adventures
Back in the days when they were young
water was life and love was pure gold;
Over by the lawn an old weathered sailboat
sat waiting, for one more vigorous glide
"Lets take her out " he said as he toiled,
curving the wood and tapering to a point.
That night they slept in the boat like kids,
huddled under a blanket stitched with stars.
Tasting the ocean on her lips he sighed,
"Join me !" he said as she giggled, awhile.
Meet Bob:
Bob just lost his job!
Toiled twenty years.
Poor pitiful slob.
Meet Neal:
He cut a better deal!
Foiled his pension,
When he ratted out Bob.
Back to Bob:
Heard about Neal!
Heard about the deal,
Neal got robbed by Bob.
Neal shot Bob!
Bob bled on Neal!
Aah, who cares?
Anybody got time for Neal and Bob?
Different individuals, yet sharing the same heart,
Different individuals, yet united by the same vision.
They emerge from their shelters at dawn,
Invigorated by the morning light.
Boys with diverse talents,
They transformed the unused and discarded.
Boys of profound grace,
They knew how to summon the elements to do their bidding.
Boys of insight and wisdom,
They were regarded as blessed by the Divine.
Boys of remarkable strength,
They toiled from dawn until twilight.
They were separated in their search for the fullness of light,
Venturing apart in their quest to understand the mysteries of the night.
One by one, they disappeared,
Lost to the unknown,
Veiled by the unseen.
July 24, 2025.
I heard the pious people say, angels live in heaven,
and with the pristine celestial beauty they glow
as the sparkling stars in the far away milky way,
but I know they often descend on earth to be with us.
If you ask me how I’ve come to know, I would say,
I’ve seen the radiance of my mother’s heart glow
as bright as the cosmic shine of the gleaming star,
its luster of love swathed me like stardust-soaked flower.
In times of turmoil when the family was adrift aimless,
she toiled hard to grow our roots in an alien pasture.
To my uprooted uncertain life she gave a gift, a nest,
from where I spread my wings on the sky of future.
I flew high under the cover of her protective wings,
the wild winds couldn’t blow away the soaring aspirations.
In her shadow I live with her lingering love, memory molds,
for it’s her hands that sculpted me as what I am today.
She has left me for her new home a long time ago.
When in the sequined night I see the stellar sky glisten,
lighting the dark path to my final destination, I then know,
she is in stars above, shining in heaven with the angels.
A field where the departed rest,
Some have toiled on this earth and given their best.
We bring flowers as we mourn for those we've lost,
Grieving deeply, our hearts feel its cost.
A field where silence drowns the noise of the day,
The soul has passed through the last door, answering the call to obey.
There’s a gentle ease as night begins to unfold,
Where the complexities of daylight no longer take hold.
A field that tells a story,
It reminds us of our fleeting glory.
We learn to cherish every passing hour,
For soon, moments fade like a withering flower.
A field where the lost and the cherished are laid,
Their beauty may fade, but their spirits won’t evade.
A field for the young and for those who are old,
A field for the lost, the brave, and the treasures untold.
All my life i fought for a Dream.
Dreams, that werent mine
Dreams, that i never dreamt
Dreams,that never kept me awake
I fought and fought and fought
I toiled and toiled and toiled
And I pushed through
For a dream i never cherished
A dream i never saw myself in,
A dream dreamt by someone else.
And i lived in someone else's dream,
For all my life, i fought for someone else's dream
When mine were buried six feet deep
slow uncertain steps, eyesight dim
gripped with fear, enslaved by desire
we’ve toiled but failed and now we tire
lost in dream realms, future seems grim
we must rest senses five and thought
in silence becoming self-taught
where is God ~ we wish to see Him
mere words and symbols will not do
soul’s eye offers a wiser view
gentling touch we sing a love hymn
entwined with universal mind
porous heart now loving and kind
in oceans of bliss we now swim
wisdom of sages is now ours
in heart dwells God and all the stars
slow uncertain steps, eyesight dim
lost in dream realms, future seems grim
where is God ~ we wish to see Him
gentling touch we sing a love hymn
in oceans of bliss we now swim
dear friends ~
believe me when I say
retirement feels well earned
when you have toiled and
worked hard every day
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Give me the ministerial seat
I labored months to breed kings,
Fingers cramped to feed queens,
With a long list of wishes to fulfill.
Give me the ministerial seat
I wept in secret,
And smiled with no morsel in my belly.
I became all— even god.
Give me the ministerial seat
I toiled the ground to bear fruit,
Nourishment I only glimpsed,
Never tasting its flavorful essence.
Give me the ministerial seat
I carried their pains and struggles,
Even on days we fed only on tales,
Wishing the night would last forever.
Give me the ministerial seat
Life is measured in miles,
But I have walked a lifetime in pain,
Their faces— my only source of joy.
Give me the ministerial seat
For I am Woman.
I spent my whole life building.
I saw it all, yeah ups and downs.
Started from nothing, God knows I did it all,
and brought this empire from the ground.
For generations I have toiled to build,
each passing year my empire’s grown.
I barely slept, I had to see it done,
and claim this empire as my own.
And I was proud to stand and see it all,
it was a brilliant sight to see.
But time is cruel, I guess I’ve lived too long,
and now it’s all the same to me.
For as I’ve aged, somehow it slips away,
and pride has turned to empty hurt.
Like Johnny Cash, I’m left to sing the song -
that my empire is only dirt.
A radiant star was born one day,
Amidst salary challenges, hardship's sway,
Her parents toiled, their sweat and tears,
To forge a brighter future, calm all fears.
Like phoenix rising, she emerged anew,
Her choices bold, as if the world pursued,
Her watchword, determination, shone so bright,
Guiding her through life's turbulent, darkest night.
Risk-taking's lessons, though bitter, she did learn,
And from each scar, her strength did yearn,
Her work ethic, a symphony of might,
Diligence, dedication, beauty, shining bright.
Her name, a benediction, prayer, and creed,
A testament to her essence, noble deed,
As celestial choirs sing in celebration high,
May heaven's gates swing wide, her prayers reply.
May answers come, and greatness be her guide,
Empowering her soul, her heart's deepest tide,
For Blessing, a star that shines so bold,
A radiant light, that never will grow old.
And in her heart, a fire burns so free, igniting a soul that's unstoppable, wild, and carefree!
With every step, she paves her own way,
Through trials and tribulations, she'll face the day,
Unbroken, unbowed, her spirit will soar,
A true warrior, rising, forever more.
In the quiet morning light I see
the deep oshanas breaking round
like a boundless oasis that is bright
and the echoes of the cattle happily resound.
Manna of the north is planted
and the mielies grow around the homestead
harrowed as the family toiled
the soil swallows the breeze of the drizzle ahead.
Oh, how peaceful northern life
its addictive memory is unerasable
as the sun tiptoes towards the West
and the herder's whistle resurges in the lovable forest.
Where's that Bethlehem?
I toiled hard to find out that
It's right in my heart.
No More
By Adam Becker
Weary they grow when day turns to night.
Their Dreams they have died which once they took flight.
They have toiled and labored yet brought to shame.
They are many yet have no name.
Their sorrows flow like a river with no end.
They lost their hope thine only friend.
The sky, it remains, the sun still shines.
Gives light to their tombs, their fallen shrines.
An army surrounds them, their mind at war.
They will be conquered; they strive no more.
The fields are marked where the dead they lay.
They have cried out for mercy, no longer they pray.
What have we here now? What do we find?
Life can be cruel, so cold and unkind.
But life can be resurrected, the dead come to life.
To shake off the ashes, to brush off the strife.
Look to the light and grab hold of hope.
Arise from your slumber, take hold of the rope.
Dreams can live again where once they were dead.
Look to the heavens, raise up your head.
You are greater than broken, greater than despair.
You still have a future, and your heart will repair.
When life tries to break you, let out a great cry.
No more will life conquer, no more will I die!
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