He built his life with calloused hands,
In sawdust, cedar, pine and oak,
A man who measured where he stood,
And meant each honest word he spoke.
He didn't bend to suit the room,
Or soften truths to make them sweet—
He told you straight, exactly how
The world was laid out at your feet.
A godly man of stubborn faith,
Unshaken as a mountain side,
Who loved his family fierce and deep
With quiet, unpretentious pride.
At evenings end, he'd settle in
To watch the western trail untether,
Where cowboys rode beneath the blue
And weathered every storm together.
And when the screen grew soft and sweet,
And romance bloomed–as love will do–
He'd crack a smile and state the fact:
"Oh, he got the tulips."
Now heaven's shop has open doors,
And red spring blooms along the fence,
Where honest trade and plain-spoken truth
Make perfect, everlasting sense.
Rest easy, Papa. You finished the build,
You kept the faith, and you left us with a lifetime of love and laughter to hold onto.
Self-Worth- Mythic
My Self-worth is not defined
By my monotony
Nor by the bright elation that
Rises in me.
My emotions shift like
Passing Storms-
But my worth is older than
Weather.
My Self-worth is not defined
By anyone's opinions.
People speak from their own
Shadows,
Their own fractured mirrors
None of them rewrite me.
My Self-worth is not bent by
Perception,
Nor altered by misunderstanding.
It stands like an ancient pillar,
Carved from memory.
My Self-worth is mine-
Innate, steady,
Unshaken by Darkness or
Light.
My Self-worth remains.
They built a myth around my pain
And thought I’d rust beneath the rain,
Assuming silence meant defeat,
A quiet retreat from complete retreat.
They judged the cage, but missed the key:
The shadow never mastered me.
Let them believe the fault was mine;
I am rebuilding by design.
?The asylum where they thought I’d break
Became the strength I had to take.
They could not stand an hour inside,
Yet here I stand with open eyes.
No longer begging them to stay
Or letting words dictate my day,
I pull my spirit from the dark
And reignite the missing spark.
?Let "all’s well" mean the peace I choose,
Not what I sacrificed to lose.
The potential wasn't thrown away;
It gathered power for today.
I am the anchor, sure and grounded,
Unshaken where their claims resounded.
?I leave their judgment at the door
To find the self I was before—
Not to go back to who was torn,
But to protect the one reborn.
?Healing doesn't mean pretending the hurt never happened; it means reclaiming your authority over your own narrative. You carry the strength to define your worth, regardless of who failed to see it.
Silence originated a scent-
But it fades up-tempo
When real strength walks in.
One move like victory in rise and fall
Steps thumping the ground like a warning,
Revising the mandates with every swagger.
One spray courage like a crown-
Radiant, lucid powerful enough to shift the
Leeway.
Every inhale is affirming space, crisp enough
To make the horizon rise with one.
Silence be funky sporadically-
Truth incarcerated too long in the lightness,
Soone step in, unshaken, untwisted,
Unequivocal.
One deodorize the Silence with one's voice-
Velvet thunder, golden fragments and
Triumphant enough to change the gust of air.
No more tears shall fall in vain,
For sorrow cannot ease the pain.
I gathered the storm inside my chest,
And laid the heavy grief to rest.
Through mastering the emotional tide,
I found a fortress built inside.
Unshaken now, I stand my ground,
With quieter strength and peace profound.
Let them cast their cold, slight smiles,
Or hate me through their subtle wiles
Their gentle scorns can touch me not,
Nor change the power I have bought.
For once you master your own heart,
No external force can tear you apart.
To wake and taste nothingness,
perhaps, is the cruelest feeling,
when ink craves to crease its lines
with truth that will not run
in recurring refrains
of a time-bruised routine,
where language reflects the lunatic
and words hold no weight.
Let the heart relearn hurt once more,
as the Reaper listens, loving
the pulse of my breathing sigh,
beholding me write longevity into the sky,
amidst iron syllables of steady seconds,
secretly savoring the stillness
of morning minutes that refuse finality…
Immersed in the current of continuity,
in love with the soul’s frequencies ~
I know my faith’s flame:
the rhapsody of a rose, unshaken…
In the dark of night, shadows danced, whispers of injustice echoed through time
Black men sought escape in new, destructive habits
Dreams faded like smoke in the air, leaving lost souls and shattered hopes
The barrier of getting a black lad a decent life aroused depression, but black men, we are
We rise, but do we rise taller or merely wiser?
We rise from the ashes of pain, while claiming our space and our pride
In the face of adversity, we won't hide, we march on with fists clenched high
But, how will we experience triumphs while we lack cooperation?
Broken chains reveal broken minds, struggling to unite, weighed by internal demons
Yet in vulnerability, we find unbreakable strength,we rise, unshaken
For black men, we are unbreakable
Whenever I speak of you,
people think I am narrating a legend.
They don’t understand
that I am confessing a truth
too sacred for ordinary language.
In every story they hear,
I stand as Krishna,
and you rise as Radha —
a love so fierce
it survives separation,
distance,
time itself.
But Radha and Krishna
were written in longing.
Their love was divine,
yet unfinished in this world.
And I ache—
because I do not want a love
that lives only in memories and metaphors.
I want a story
that does not fade at dusk.
If destiny were merciful,
if the heavens chose completion over yearning,
then our names would not echo in separation.
They would be carved in permanence.
Then I would not be Krishna—
bound to distance—
I would be Shiva,
and you, my Parvati.
Not a love that waits.
Not a love that wonders.
But a love that meditates together,
burns together,
creates and destroys together—
two souls in divine union,
unshaken by time,
unbroken by fate.
Let the world call it a story.
I call it prayer.
I call it destiny
waiting to be fulfilled.
I have come in the volume of the book written of me
To do Your will, O God, not mine.
Let Your will be my daily bread,
And Your will be my final supper.
Order my steps in the statutes of destiny;
Let me not stray,
Not to the right, nor to the left.
Keep me firm, Lord
Unshaken.
Even when I stumble in compromise,
Teach me how to plead rightly before You.
O Lord, let not Your word be mocked,
Let not what You declared through the prophets
Be cast away as dust.
For You are the God who watches over His Word
To see it fulfilled.
So I pray:
As You were with Jeremiah,
Be with me.
Let me not say, "I am too young,"
Let me not shrink back in shame.
Let me stand bold in Your will,
And remain anchored in it.
Watch over me, O Lord,
That my destiny may be fulfilled.
Guard my heart from pride,
Guard my soul from sin.
In my commitment, keep me from falling.
Grant me the strength to bear the crown
You are preparing to place upon me
That I may never lose it.
But rather,
That through it, many may be drawn to You,
And every glory be returned
To You alone.
Amen.
When silver moonlight glimmers on thy face,
My heart, enthralled, is captive to the night;
Soft whispers drift and time begins its race,
For love, once kindled, burns with gentle might.
Thine eyes, like twin stars, pierce the darkened sky,
Unveiling hope where shadowed sorrows dwell;
In silent longing, every breath a sigh,
Thy voice, sweet music, casts a binding spell.
What tempest fierce could shake our rooted core
Or chill the fire that our bosoms plays?
Though seasons change and distant oceans roar,
Love's truth stands firm, unbroken by the days.
So let the world bear witness to our vow;
Eternal love, unshaken then as now.
1441 LOVE Poetry Contest
2/1/2026
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Don’t worry about failure, let it pass like rain,
Each stumble you carry is not lived in vain.
Every “almost” and “not yet” you quietly endure
Is shaping the moment when your aim lands sure.
The road may be heavy, your steps may feel slow,
But roots grow in darkness before flowers show.
A thousand wrong turns do not lessen your worth
They’re echoes of learning, the rhythm of earth.
Let doubt knock your door, let it speak, let it try,
You don’t owe it victory, only a reply.
For hope isn’t loud, and success isn’t loud
It rises in silence, unshaken, unbowed.
So breathe through the nights when belief feels thin,
When the world says “no” but you whisper “begin.”
For fate doesn’t count how many times you fall
It waits for the moment you rise once, that’s all.
In the blackness of a merciless night,
I stand alone, chained are my hands.
No mercy found, no guiding light,
Just the pulse of rage where silence stands.
Fate strikes hard—its blows I feel.
But I refuse to crumble, refuse to kneel.
The world may twist, may bleed me dry.
Yet my mind, my core, I have concealed.
Beyond the edge, death waits it's cold,
But I face it square, unshaken, spent.
My scars I wear, every story told,
Carves the empire of my own design.
Lock me in darkness, drown me here.
It matters not—the fire does not go out.
I own the path my spirit takes,
Unbroken, unbound, until my end.
We have enemies with bombs and guns, we have enemies with Bibles under their arms so we must all be united.
We have walked on broken pieces of bottles, shall we be shaken by broken pieces of calabashes and mere glare?
The path has cut our feet before, yet we still rise. The wounds have tried to teach us fear, yet we still stand.
If steel could not break us and glass could not silence us, then shadows dressed as light shall not divide us.
United, we remain unshaken.
I am a lowly servant, fearing the Lord,
Holding His commands deep in my heart.
You may drown me in doubt and scorn,
But like a rock, my obedience stands firm.
Does my praise for God's love unsettle you?
Does my song of faith disrupt your day?
You may cast harsh words upon me,
But like a rock, my trust in Him remains unshaken.
Does my joyful face trouble your soul?
Does my broken English make you turn away?
You may ignore my presence,
But like the gentle wind, I embrace you still.
Does my smile disturb your hardened heart?
Do my prayers for enemies seem strange to you?
You may strike me with hatred,
But like incense, my love for you rises ever higher.
For a man of grace and innocence
Once bore whips, thorns, and pain,
Crucified and suffering for all—
In my heart, the cross stands strong.
Temptation may try to shake me,
Hatred may pour upon my path,
Yet God’s love is greater than all things,
And His will guides me in love.
Like a rock, my hope, my dream, my destiny is in serving.
Like a rock, my faith in Him will never waver.
Deacon Joe Hung Nguyen
That you are but a Candle — small —
While They — the Sun — command —
That all your Dreams are fragile things
To crumble at their Hand —
That Truth itself is pliable —
And bends to suit their Will —
That Silence is a sacred Vow
You dare not break — nor spill —
That Love is but a Ration — thin —
Dispensed when They decree —
That you exist — because They look —
And cease — if They don't see —
That Doubt is Proof of Loyalty —
That Pain — a Noble art —
Ah — but the Soul — unshaken — knows
The Lie — from Honest Heart —
For Power— built on borrowed Breath —
Dissolves — when you arise —
The Chains — are Thread — the Crown — is Dust —
And Freedom — in your Eyes.
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