The view of see through sea
The pigment of my own eye lid
I hone myself within with all my ability
I hummed a beat that I could and did
That this method could bring me down to earth
That first experience of birth
I journey through my thoughts
I passed the vein that I see and cought
Like a river that just awoked
Like an energy that could not be choked
My eyes are still closed, but my mind seems open
My movement and breath I could listen
This take me to one thought my heart
This is all within all living things chart
One day you have to shut your eyes
Become one within a journey that defies
From your hearts to my eyes; I see
Your wishes grow wings, fly off sea...
That could possibly drown its quest,
To reaching heaven and arrest,
What ever could stop length foresee.
This struggling days as a lessee
Affects my dream's accuracy,
But your wishes check up my rest.
Thanks to you all!
Your wishes are not like debris,
Useless: lacking adequacy.
Oh your awesome wishes invest,
Somewhat good cum my print's request
Different from world of fantasy.
Thanks to you all!
My thoughts ebb.
I lie still under the sod of sleep.
Is it my soul
or subconscious mind that wakes up?
This is a voyage through the fjord
in the dream-light.
I’m free,
and as light as a water strider.
This landscape is beyond
what a man believes real.
I was sipping warm tea on a rock
before the dark women plucking green leaves.
Even when the elephants chased me,
I felt a horrible thrill.
Transforming through time,
my midlife dreams are marvelous.
Never pooped,
I travel pop-eyed.
I sometimes see the same place
I had seen in my dream.
Where will I be taken tomorrow?
I long for that traveling delight.
First published in The Literary Hatchet.
s
o
r
row m o v e s s l o w l y
yet its poison travels
f a s t ~
tears it b
r
i
n
g
s don’t d
r y
t
h
o
ugh s l o w is its t r u d g e
h a p p i n e s s remains its s c a r e~
it b o l t s
from its
s i g h t
Contest: YOUR CHOICE n
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Contest Judged: May 25th, 2025 2:41:00 PM
Placement: First
Colleen, the fiery red head down the road learned to step dance
She practiced up and down Ireland, then moved to Italy and France.
Hot blooded Italians had never seen a ginger this beautiful and flashy.
The French were unkind; they called Colleen common and trashy.
Colleen moved back to Dublin where her cousins all danced too
Three got jobs on a cruise ship, and invited her to the ocean blue
These four step danced three nights a week, and joined the captain’s table
It was the best time of Colleen’s life, she told her little cousin, Erin Mable.
I’ve finished with travels, for I can’t agree
With the reasons I’m discriminated
Won’t pay for the visa a notable fee
Won’t wait in the queue of migrated
I’m blamed for the crimes which I didn’t commit
Stigmatized for a thing they call “nation”
I’ve nowhere to go and I’ve no one to meet
My train doesn’t stop at your station
I may not be happy about it, but such
Is the case that I’ve to comprehend
My dear foreign friend, I don’t know you that much
As you seem to know who I am
I’m lazy, incurious, spoiled and defiant
I live in the land of the snow
I’m a parallel world to political giants
That all of you are, as I know
Think better of me, if you can, for I’m not
Your enemy or cater cousin
Who dreams to come over with problems he’s got
To share at least half a dozen.
It exists firmly in the realm of fiction,
Where time travel is bantered back and forth.
While allowing no control or direction, it might
Easily end up East or West, or down South or even North.
As a dimension, science is fully supportive,
Since Einstein formed the merger to those of space.
Bringing gravity along to bend it further, so
It's curvilinear, not just straight to retrace.
Here the mind seeks to warp the curvature,
When the math becomes circular in the end.
This leads to the question as to whether,
We can seek the past or the future, when we spend.
Mankind's journey is of endless curiosity as
We seek to understand our place in the universe.
Through this exploration, we come up on the theoretical,
That blends with hypothetical paradoxes to disperse.
The essence of time will be continually pursued,
By wondrous minds in physics and beyond.
One can only hope that our imagination shows wisdom,
And we don't breach the fictional boundary as a vagabond.
In my travels
I seek thee
Amongst the snow capped mountains,
The scenic valleys,
Meandering rivers
That meets the turquoise sea
The rolling meadows
And sprinkling streams
The azure sky above
Connect me to the supreme being
A transcendental journey
That invigorates and rejuvenates me
On a spiritual level
No news is good news, they say
I thoroughly agree
I had no news today
No news is good to see
Old news remain the same
As always and before
But I don’t play that game
I qualify no more
I read the items labels
I need to know the truth
How much of carbohydrates
They’re selling me to use
I watch the youtube travels
Without a sound, just views
No mysteries unraveled
That is the best of news
I’m playing cards with AI
I’m reading books I’ve read
I don’t exploit my eyesight
With other people’s bread
And other people’s wine
Which I will never taste
Because I’ve some of mine
My little news to waste.
A unicorn travels through the wheat fields and lays its dreams on pillows of poppies,
In your fragrance of wind, as clover crowns itself in bloom,
Over the evening horizon, see, stars were falling,
And in a handkerchief, I knot the embroidery of the storm.
Under my feet, dust grows, and lightning passes through me,
The wind moves among the shadows, caressing itself.
My summer, you who were ephemeral and now delay yourself,
Septembers will come again just as butterflies arrive on flowers.
I don’t see how time flees if my eyes are blind,
Nor how amber flows through the clock, hidden beneath the rhubarb,
Under foreign rains, water suffocates in the abyss,
And crowded seconds walk their fingers through the fords.
From a clock falls a shadow trembling towards the horizon,
I no longer know if I have died or am a bird of salt,
The moment between butterflies sometimes seems a chasm wounding words,
Other times a field of mallows that is silent and deceives you.
On a child, time paints the dew of golden steps,
I gather the swallows from the grass, fleeing from summers that fly away.
Where should I zoom to, perhaps to the Moon,
And on my way will juggle with millions of stars,
I have whispered to a Comet passing by real soon,
To please pick me up, as i plan to visit Mars.
Most of all I want to feel the star dust on my face,
And hear choirs of angels as they upon me gaze.
My wish upon a star,
To swim in the Milky Way,
I long, to be in the Galaxy,
I dream of such a day,
I want to feel the sands
Of Mars, run through my hands,
Hope to see shooting stars, and also Meteoroids,
But terrified to see a hurtling Asteroid,
Wish to explore many other Galactic planets,
Google, my best friend right from the start,
Though neither of us sure of the stratosphere’s
Patterns, so advised to be sure, to take with me a jacket.
I've been on many travels around the country over time
I've seen the mountains, corn fields, cities and the sea
Each place holds memories, carried through my life,
creating one large collection of pictures of all kinds
I have been blessed to make it through the rocky times
I am blessed by all the beauty I continue to see and enjoy
My travels have given me lessons, smiles and tears
Places, friends and views that will never disappear
Heidi Sands
4/28/24
(C)opyright
Snail travels to Japan in the fanciest way
We see him traveling, he’s cutesy today
He is wearing a camera around his neck.
He stops to give the emperor a genuflect.
His hat is from Australia, his eyeglasses from the wild.
He scoots around old men, he picks up a lady bug child.
We flowers surround him, admiring his ensemble of beauty.
It is our Japanese privilege, not our tradition or duty.
Well hello Mister Finnegan
You've come back as a friend again
It's been so long since we've seen you
Don't you know Mister Finnegan
All your bad luck will end again
And nothing will get between you
For we know that you'll win again
Our dear Mister Finnegan
The luck of the Irish is on you
And don't you ever sin again
Oh dear Mister Finnegan
The eyes of God are upon you
But please Mister Finnegan
Beware of those men again
We hope no frown will befall you
Now farewell Mister Finnegan
How lovely it's been again
When next in town yes we'll call you
time travels heavily in rousing screech
to strangle smiles from mind's untold
my waving grimace implored beseech
under shadowed cleft of chalky Wold
where lapping rays of yellowed gloss
and green clings on each blade of grass
to blanket earth in warmth of moss
for breath of steam and bite to pass
but pass is slow as minds there reel
and such the rolling hills show grace
but mountains roll inside I feel
keeping undulating lands from face
my orbit slows and shows refrain
until I circle the sun again
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