water
his undertow
where seagulls still hold to
his touch on the stiffening mast,
sails gone —
sea swept,
his shipwreck
staging her oars —
whispers in the water
she screams
autumns crinkled leaves
winters harsh touch on landscape
dried vegetation
shimmering reflection skies touch on lake
In the hushed thrum
between first light
the first bird
the first mist's
touché touch on cheek
the world pauses
to catch its breath
to sigh softly—
like a mother at
her babe's first cry.
My heart is not so secret,
An imminent confession,
Like fireworks blasting out
In the night sky,
It's escapades are clear, vivid,
And known about the galaxy.
No love-hiding here.
Seeds of affection flower and bloom
With the blink of an eye,
A touch on the shoulder,
Three seconds of eye contact...
And the whirlpool of love
Sublimates and swirls
Like tiny little notes
Fluttering through the in-between air
Of two souls desperate to dance,
Or at least slow groove with the other.
The heart's secret garden morphs into
Outward unabashed foraging
Since all secretly long for the light of human connection.
I'll secret you later so hug me now
With eyes if not with arms.
My heart garden,
Disarming the loveless.
A shabby shoebox on a shelf,
Lizards home have made for themselves
In the old box where sun motes dwell
And laid eggs inside gentle shells;
They waltz through scary shining days,
Hidden in a privileged haze,
Slight touch on the box and they`ve flown
To come back the next sizzling dawn.
I found myself in a state of reverie
Some other world, some other place
I was away from all the tangled turmoil
I looked, I stared, through a peaceful cloud
Nothing could really reach me in this place,
Only the sounds of trickling water and breeze
All I could feel was slight touch on my skin
The air that moved from sky to sturdy ground
I was planted like a flower, ready to grow
Hoping I would be beautiful to bring smiles
The moment didn't last, but the memory did,
And this exquisite memory flourishes within
Heidi Sands
4/4/26
(C)opyright
Hello
Hello
Hello
Rain on the window
Tired hearts in a waiting room
Clock on the wall moves slow
We’ve been hurting so long
Whispering quiet prayers
Every breath feels like a battle
Wondering if You’re there
God is risen today
And His holy hands still save
Every scar
Every tear
You are here
You are here
You’re our healer
Our savior
Our way
God is risen today
Doctor shakes his head soft
Says there’s nothing left to try
But hope walks down the hallway
Puts fire back in our eyes
Warm touch on a fevered brow
Peace we can’t explain
Someone smiles through trembling lips
“I can feel Him in my veins”
God is risen today
And His holy hands still save
Every scar
Every tear
You are here
You are here
You’re our healer
Our savior
Our way
God is risen today
For the broken and the bruised
For the worn and the used
You are lifting us again (lifting us again)
From the grave of our fear
To a life that is clear
You are more than a story we say (oh)
You are risen today
And His holy hands still save
Every scar
Every tear
You are here
You are here
You’re our healer
Our savior
Our way
God is risen today
Perfect Poet is not narrator but created
Piercing the heart of listener or reader
with poetic touch in emotive beauty.
Might be specified as a poet’s duty.
Poem must sparkle in mind of reader as gem.
The poet should hold that spirit to carry his aim.
Poem to resonate with rhythm of heart and soul
Unspoken syllable to voice for perception.
Looking at a log on ground, a guy may say
‘ dry piece of wood is lying in front of me ‘
but a poet may say ‘bough has lost life and lustre.’
That’s the observation on perspective of poet.
The statement ‘Some one has finished sumptuous meal,
leaving no remnants ‘ will be adorned , if a poet adds
‘ Even ant is weeping, while walking on empty plate.’
That’s the poetic touch on muse , using metaphor.
‘
Are you there...
When I still see him next to me?
When I hear his voice calling and I feel his touch on my cheek?
When I am numb, yet still feel his warmth?
Are you there...
When I claw at my eyes and shatter my teeth?
When I swear, with eyes bloodshot, to get back who was taken from me?
When I loathe myself for all I left unsaid?
When I resent you for all you could've done?
Are you there...
When I need you most?
When I pray to you with all that's left in me?
When I swear to be good and to atone for all I was?
Are you there...
When I have nothing left?
When I wish to join him in your paradise, though I'm not worthy?
When I can't cry anymore?
Are you there...
When I lay the flowers in his memory?
When I move forward, changed forever?
When I am alone?
Are you there?
I try to write of tulip skies,
but my pen finds the shadows first.
I want to speak of beauty,
but my tongue can’t carry the weight… -dishonest-
I try to sing of lilac air,
but every note becomes a bruise,
a wound that pretty things can’t use.
The air becomes… -suffocating-
The easy things…
finding laughter in wind chimes,
they won’t stay still for me.
They slip through the ink,
as it’s written upon the lines.
The page rejects the grace,
of summer’s touch on a freckled face.
It calls instead for broken hearts and scars,
For bruised-up dreams behind prison bars.
I leave the pretty things
to someone else—
and write what stays
when pretty things fade away.
I feel a slight touch on my arm and look down
and………….it’s a spider
Despite the heavy circumstances in my life and a
migraine weighing me down
I fly to my feet and spin around trying to dislodge
the creature that is much more nimble than I am
I try leaping as each joint in my body complains,
I try flicking it off, but as we are both moving,
it evades me and continues to run down my bare arm
I rush to the door and fling it open and continue
my graceless dance on the porch as the neighborhood
begins to wake up for the day, I am pretty sure I am
yelling at this point and I feel sweet relief as the
eight legged arachnid jumps from me to the porch railing
as I sigh and begin to realize where I am and who else
is present. I wave to my neighbor and say a chipper
“good morning” as my face floods with color and I realize
I am acting very odd, but to be honest, who cares?
The spider and I are both safe it’s not crawling on me
anymore. I sigh and begin my day, hopefully without
encountering any more of God’s eight legged creatures.
This is to be,
a seed yet sown,
a deed yet done
a whisper on tongue
a kiss becoming
an echo sent
a gift bought
a line cast
a promise made
a wink of eye
a smile on lips
a touch on skin
fingers meet
a glint, a glimmer
a ripple, a quaver
orange glow at dawn
a breath of wind
a whiff of scent
footsteps
creak of gate
knock on door
hum of tune
distant bells
chimes of time
ticks, tocks of clocks
bird calls, howls
the smell of food
This is what can,
and is To Be.
My garden…..spring vibes! - Dr. Gopakumar air
Where another misty morning soaked in the soft sun rays,
Adding a mystic beauty to the surroundings.
Where the plants are showing their full presence
With the newborn buds, leaves and flowers.
Where the air is filled with fragrance of fresh blooms.
Where the birds chirp non stop,
Butterflies play hide and seek,
Happy Bees whisper a secret song of mysteries.
A gentle breeze plays a new rhythm-
A soothing touch on the soul.
That leads to mindfulness,
Here the past, present and future merged into thin air.
Evoking a sense of timeless beauty of nature.
Copyright @GKN 2025
Darkened my world,
Turned it upside down.
A cloud of grief follows me around.
The sun shines, but my eyes see darkness.
A mother’s worst nightmare
Became my reality.
Torn from this earthly world—
My brown-eyed baby girl.
Grown up, but always my baby,
Leaving me in a whirlwind of misery.
Always trying to honour her,
Keep speaking her name.
Cling to her memory like a lifeline,
Whispering, Please come back to me.
The wind echoing, I’m still here beside you, my Mommy.
Feeling a gentle touch on my cheek
Where my tears are falling silently.
The pain so immense,
The grieving so quiet.
The passage of time has not lessened the pain—
I’ve just learned to carry it differently.
I understand:
We breathe, not forever.
We walk in body, not forever.
We live, and we die.
But one thing that does not change
Is the love I have for you—
In life, in death, and evermore.
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