Morning light spills softly,
quiet hum in my chest~
Then, the stillness unfolds:
a sparrow's wing, Your breath,
this Infinite embrace.
In the midst of my own storm
unnamed, unspoken, unnoticed –
the silence is deafening, unbearable,
yet too sacred to be shattered.
Desire presented himself to me, softly,
I turned away and did not return.
Not from fear nor sorrow,
but for love —
for the discipline of stillness.
I embrace the ache
over its guilty sweetness,
I chose to cradle the pain,
so others may dream.
Time unfolded its wings above me,
hovering over my heavy crown.
Not rushing nor judging,
just shifting the shape of my feelings.
And when the ache softened,
the silence slowly started to whisper.
I saw the truth:
The wound had always been my gift.
Not for glory
neither for praise.
But for peace
that blooms in restraint.
A soft wind lifts the curtains.
light spills across the wooden floor.
dust spirals in lazy circles
and the quiet hum of the house
feels like a gentle heartbeat.
I step outside
the earth smells of wet grass and stone.
a bird’s song cuts through the stillness
small, specific, lively
and i bear in mind I belong here.
The sun melts my skin
the world extended, slow and planned
shadows bend and bow
a leaf meanders, holding the gleam
and i am awake, completely.
Somewhere between when sleep overtakes
and then when I'm not really awake
as if on a film running through my head
the reel unrolls a story unfolds
and I never lose the thread
tho' the plot may be somewhat bizarre
from whence I know not yet never forgot
I find words appear in my mind
from way over yonder out of the blue
and somehow in time I make them rhyme
they're fun for me a game to play with
hope reading them is the same for you
before enactment of an event on earth
creation occurs in a subtler domain
call it what we will; it’s there our will takes birth
like blessings from heaven falling down like rain
so what this deep truth is, once we here unearth
ego spawned fears and desires are to rest lain
for we know that we’re one with the universe
navigating life with no need to rehearse
It’s the end of the world, babe
Since the second of May this year
Nothing can save us, maybe
A miracle, but it’s unclear
As it always happens with miracles
They get lost on the next day
Which appears to be satirical
But a few can see it this way
It’s the end of the world, now
It starts from this very date
Write a letter to me somehow
To read your thoughts would be great
You must see it better than me
I’m just sitting within four walls
Drinking music and jasmine tea
Having fun till the gate unfolds
An unbearable light will flush us
And the darkness will gulp the splinters
And so many more years will pass
When the summer will change to winter.
In icy peaks, your name is born,
Hima, a whisper of winter's morn.
Bindu, a droplet, pure and fine,
Together merged, a beauty divine.
Like snowflakes gently falling deep,
Your heart remains, in slumber, keep.
Bindu's tiny form, a universe holds,
Reflecting dreams, like winter's tales unfold.
In frozen landscapes, your soul takes flight,
A gentle breeze stirs, on a winter's night.
Himabindu, a name of serene might,
Shining bright, like stars in morning light.
May your name guide you, through life's design,
As a symbol of hope, in winter's confine.
Himabindu, a beauty, forever in our sight,
A shining star, on a clear, cold winter's night.
The transformation of the poet into an artist unfolds like a hymn to the defiant spirit,
an age-old story with familiar themes of the literary outcast,
where alcohol and poverty dance frenetically in the shadow of tumultuous love,
but at the heart of this storm lies a silent flame, an unwavering devotion,
to the written word, a warm and constant light amidst his existential chaos,
through long years of obscurity, the poet labored in shadowed and silent rooms,
building his art without the promise of recognition or shining applause,
and fame, that dreaded yet desired specter, arrived as a delayed destiny,
only in the late chapters of his tumultuous life, a testament to resilience,
in his younger years, he was a distant vagabond, living off menial jobs and wits,
surviving on two five-cent chocolate bars for days on end,
to afford the luxury of writing, letting the words flow freely,
like a river that knows no path but forward, regardless of obstacles in its way.
A future unfurls, like a canvas so bright,
2025 arrives, with promise and light.
Cities soar high, with towers of might,
Sustainable dreams, in morning's first light.
Robots roam free, with artificial hearts,
Humans and tech, in harmonious starts.
Virtual realms, where love and art entwine,
A world remade, with innovation's design.
Electric skies, with drones buzzing by,
Green forests thrive, with a renewed sigh.
Clean energy flows, like a river's stream,
A healthier earth, in a brighter dream.
Humans explore, the cosmos' vast stage,
Mars and beyond, with a curious engage.
Life expectancy grows, with each passing year,
Aging reversed, with science drawing near.
Yet, amidst progress, we remember the past,
Lessons learned, as humanity forever lasts.
Empathy and love, in a world of machines,
A balance struck, between hearts and digital dreams.
In 2025, we find, a world reborn,
With challenges met, and a brighter morn.
A future unfolding, like a work of art,
2025 shines bright, with a hopeful heart.
she had youth on her side
and couldn't care less
the world at her feet
oblivious to what's out there
perhaps lurking in the dark
like rose-coloured lenses her filters
paint for her a contorted reality
and she smiles and she laughs
almost delirious in her delusion
nothing we could or should say
we just watch holding our breath
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
In the fabric of spring, the map of life renewed unfolds –
A vibrant painting in a blend of young shades of birch, acacia, and ash;
A symphony of colors that come alive in the effusions of triumphal dawns;
No fading like it – each ray reawakens the verdant glade.
Beneath the steps of Spring, the flowered carpet, dust of dreams and fruition,
The undulating tapestry – a living canvas of the blossoming present;
The seed of life sketched by merry sunbeams, now vibrant and vast,
Gathered in the bouquet of a new beginning – the fanfare of a fresh salute.
Spring stretches out its billowing dreams, yet a flower still persists
The fresh green has shed – the resting renewal blooms –
Radiance once yearning to grow – a network full of life revealed –
A delicate covenant of pollen, in an ode to rebirth, in fact, glorified.
witnessing life flow unfold
to retain heart’s glow
it helps not to know
our fate foretold
what counts is this
soul’s vibrancy innate
letting not fear forms bait
presence suffused with bliss
______________________________________________________________
Will I descry my consort before I settle?
Always ecstatic but never got a medal
Abide by the authentic route, even if slowly
I purport to originate, although closely
No difference in inducing if I am late
As long as I reach my destination, sedate
I won't strain to delight everyone I meet
There's always someone who goes deceit.
Instead, I contrive on my own fate
Leaving no whiff of evidence, a cold case
I strive to stay relevant, to clutch weight
Learning from past experiences as I retrace.
No one has sustained anything from me
Nobody ever got out with it, do you foresee
Justice won when my door was kicked in
Justice revealed the culprits were jailed within.
If you can't stand the heat, avoid the kitchen
Since the kitchen stove is waiting.
My hand folds in awe with every sigh, God-given,
I grasp and cherish life's depth relating.
A world of wonder, but no delight
Anguished with always under plight
Living life doesn’t come easy
Struggles that can become overbearing
Love that is not love at the other end
The unfamiliar blend
Trying to fit in as a Blackman is at end
When you try to explain
It becomes lies by response
True spoken words
Not heard
No one listens
Emotions break out
Even tears
Cries being from a Blackman
Thinking positive is not always an option
Staying away from negativity almost impossible
Possibly forming maybe, could be or never
As a Blackman being the center of attention
Transgression
A black man wonders will he be alive or dead
Thought to think on
Sometimes it’s hard to even get along
A fight here and misunderstanding there
Am I understood
I can’t control what I feel
It is a big deal
Is this what the Black man is about?
Racism at all angles
Is this the way the Black man is to live?
I wonder, truly wonder
No resolutions only conclusions
Drawing only from personal experiences
Having gone through instances
A Black man only understands
I am a Black man
I speak
The Black man knows
The world doesn’t understand, but won’t
I am expected to accept
But I won’t.
In the grand tapestry of life, God's plan unfolds,
Weaving threads of purpose, stories untold.
With each step we take, we journey through God's design,
Guided by divine hands, transcending space and time.
Through joys and sorrows, challenges we embrace,
God's plan molds our souls, revealing grace.
He knows our deepest yearnings, our hearts' desire,
And leads us to paths that ignite our fire.
Though storms may rage, and darkness persists,
God's plan illuminates, both earth and mist.
With faith as our compass, we'll navigate the unknown,
For in His plan, our purpose by his will is known.
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