The rhythmic waves roll,
Barely foaming as they gently sweep up the shore
And lightly brush my toes
Before retreating as another wave approaches.
Distant swallows chatter like a choir out of tune,
Tossing a scattered melody — yet strangely harmonious.
The coconut leaves above me whisper
As the soft breeze drifts past.
The cold of the damp sand where I sit, legs outstretched,
Has crept up into my chest.
I scoop the damp sand at my side
And press it slowly between my fingers.
My chest tightens as a chorus of voices shriek in my skull.
Kristina Lim
August 17, 2025
Daanbantayan, Cebu, Philippines
1403 Poetry Contest //Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Contest Judged: 8/14/2025 5:36:00 AM
( 8th Place )
Written: August 09, 2025
Dawn’s breath lifts pink blooms,
petals cruise to tranquil seas—
hope hums in the breeze.
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I need not build a mansion
to find my peace of mind.
I need no fleet of luxury cars
for calm to dwell inside.
All I need is a whisper —
a gentle breeze
blown beneath a clear, untroubled sky,
under a tree that leans above a quiet, streaming brook
casting a cool, soft shade.
The bright sunlight
will wrap me
in a tranquil blanket,
within a garden where even birds pause their songs in awe —
and when they chirp,
they shape a perfect measured harmony:
a choir of symphonies.
The whispering forests
and the calm mountains
blend a feathered harmony —
soothing the seas,
the open meadows
and my restless mind.
A light in the darkness
brings comfort and warmth —
like sitting near a glowing fire
in a silent home,
where soft music
plays not to be heard,
but to lull the soul to sleep.
In a realm of tranquil illusions, weary spirits find thrones of comfort,
Lives frozen in monotonous dances, dolls forgotten in the windows of dead time,
Middle-aged souls, ghosts of lost hope, nestle into routine,
The leaden embrace of stagnation promises them an eternity of divine peace.
Deep within the soul, fear sneaks in like an underground stream,
The fear that fragile order is a sandcastle, a vain illusion,
They retreat into mental bunkers, hiding their dreams and unspoken fears,
Hoping the walls of silence will keep change at bay, unspoken promises.
But time, a tireless sculptor, spins its chisel on the face of reality,
Each moment leaves a mark, a reminder of the ephemeral,
Stagnation is but an illusion, true life awaits beyond the walls,
Demanding the courage to step into the unknown, to emerge from labyrinths.
Between the walls of silence, souls sing the longing for freedom,
A yearning that pulses like a heart beneath resignation, beneath opacity,
Rays of light pierce through the cracks in the walls, reminding them of the river,
Life flows unceasingly, calling them to embrace their living destiny.
as our heart contracts, a thought crystallises
distorted as a fear laced symbol
we look at the event with a nonchalant eye
recognising the play as but an illusion
wooed by bliss magnetism cascading within
we return to the cave of our heart where we dwell
Easy spirit. Bones erased into dust. Much heavy man made nothing in seconds.
Justice is meaningless before the mountains of death
Harmony in silence
Waking inside a spider web of my own creation
Junk food makes me sleepy
Questions of hunger before teas and tugboats
Submarines lost and tough guy laid waste
Inside I saw myself dancing before the mirrors
Quiet noise. around the play area I am King
Near the river bed I saw my reflection in the water
awake and dancing. She saw me silent cleaning the walls
Missions of wine tasting
meaningless words lacking soul
Heaven destroyed by need for more
I walked today in the direction of the moon
Zoo sights and senses as I am tossed into the cell
Who is my doctor if not a foolish animal
I am my own God but lacking in meaning
I am the devil but without a spirit to rule
We are The beginning without a time to cease
glass-like smooth of even's yawn
just I, myself, with one cob swan
trace cursive paths upon the lake
for we’re both OF the earth, not on
so sets the sun to blow a kiss -
in hushed glissades of feral bliss
cleaving surface - gentle wakes
o surely heaven’s much like this
swan and I, we share these eves
in feathered white tuxedo sleeves
he follows while I row the skiff -
my chaperon as daylight leaves
I think perhaps he's lonely, too
a-searching for a soul-mate who
shares his love of blushing skies
and parting mirrored lakes anew
the water's darkened interludes
reflect both images and moods
hopes we held of love this morn
are put to bed as day concludes
ere we meet when dusk is drawn
I’ll say a prayer that he'll be gone
that one of us shall find true love ...
for we’re both OF the earth, not on.
In the morning, when flowers bloom,
Lilacs fragrance weave sweet perfume.
A weary heart, it longs to rest,
Tranquil slumber, it does cajole.
My guitar strums in soft rhythm,
In the morning, when flowers bloom,
Etching melodies, soothing hymn,
A sigh escapes, a whispered claim.
Amidst the haze, dreams softly dance,
A misty realm, a fleeting chance,
In the morning, when flowers bloom,
Night's embrace begins to assume.
In slumber's embrace, find reprieve,
A respite from the world's upheave.
The peaceful dreams creates soft scream,
In the morning, when flowers bloom.
Quote: "In zen we don't find the answers. We lose the questions." ..zen philosophy
Beneath the plum tree by the Zen pond's side,
Its vivid hues reflected in the water's glide,
Autumn leaves, a kaleidoscope in motion,
Swim with carps, in a colorful perpetual devotion.
The optimist gazes, sky-bound, feeling free,
As leaves brush top of the tree, a sight to see,
But the pessimist sees inspirations wane,
Leaves wither, decay, in autumn's refrain.
The autumn moon, its silver light cascades,
Galaxies, stars, in its gentle tirades,
The universe contained, in tranquil grace,
Even a plum leaf's fall stirs the quiet space.
What is the sound in silence's domain?
Who listens to its whisper, its refrain?
The peaceful heart hums, a silent song's plea,
Yet ponders, who hears its melody free?
Somehow, silence speaks more than words.
Sometimes it's peaceful, sometimes it's not.
Sometimes, it's the calm before the storm.
And sometimes, it is the answer to the war.
But silence- it speaks the heaviest words of them all.
there was a snake bathing in the sunset
draped around the veins, the dead branches
winter never welcomes reptiles
but it wore twilight like a heat lamp jacket
back flat, tobacco treat burning sweet
the switchgrass swayed like waves in wind
the blades carried my wading body as it bobbed
and swayed to the scent of serenity
lavender and apricot bled in the sky
a marriage of pastels to perfect this pastiche
this is art incarnate none could ever reach
so please don't let me wake from this tranquil dream
The newborn dawn caresses
outstretched arms of cattails
surrounding the circumference
of a tranquil pond. Before breakfast
the reed maces say grace, and
beckon for warmth on an April day.
The spring peepers sing their
morning melodies, to serenade the
incoming day. Tiny ripples disrupt
the water’s peace. Above those tiny
waves two shining dragonflies kissed,
erratically swayed, and kissed again
before their golden flakes fell,
and gave the reflecting sun
a blushing freckled face.
The sea soaks stardust,
sequins spread on waves,
dancing with silver lattice
on satin sands of serene beach.
With gems of joy they adorn
my soul’s seashore, tranquil.
Poet, Rich of my quiet cherry trees,
Of my peaceful lilacs like pink stones,
Rich in my willows in ardent prayer, prose,
I can finally think of your tranquil eyes.
Poète, Riche de mes cerisiers tranquilles,
De mes lilas paisibles comme des pierres roses,
Riche de mes saules en ardente prière, prose,
Je peux enfin penser à tes yeux tranquilles.
inspired by french poet Paul Verlaine
Tranquil now
my soul at rest
Return to me
you were the best
Inside your eyes
I simply drowned
A weakened nymph
your arms surround
A sigh a pause
beseech my heart
Your power overwhelms
from the start
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