Hidden Love
I keep you in the space between two hearts.
Masquerading as a lette.r, I address so far
Not sent.
My tongue is a locked gate, my eyes, two thieves.
That steal a peep, then quickly decipher.
They call my name, and I acknowledge,
Even cool- a lake that never ripples in the wind.
But underneath, a current breaks its rule.
Each time you're unwary, laughter pulls me in.
So let the world see void but the shore- I'll
Submerge in you and ask for not but the shoreline-
I'll drown in you and ask for nothing more.
Winter Ailments
January diseases make their customary rounds,
Coughs, sneezes and sniffles all going around;
Cold and flu bugs ride the indoor air currents,
waiting to become the next unwelcome occupant
of unwary human lungs and ripe nasal passages –
unwashed hands or exposed faces encourage attacks.
Sometimes occurrences creep up all of a sudden,
medical ailments dismissed now seize your attention.
What was overlooked will no longer be ignored,
need a professional's help to get your health restored.
Fears can be dispelled and facts verified,
Real problem addressed, antibiotics prescribed.
Difficulties are handled, dosages absorbed
knowing improvement is coming is adored.
Sometimes the most effective step here
is to get some help to see your way clear.
Better health is just a few more steps ahead,
Determined fortitude will put you in good stead.
There is a thorn - a nightmare thorn -
that cannot be pulled from the skin.
It is covered with tiny barbs
that allow it only to be pushed deeper in.
It burrows when it is touched.
It seeks the fleshy core.
It is never happy with a surface wound.
It always wants more, more, more!
It never attacks alone, as well.
It bristles and waits for the unwary.
It is a jumping cholla spine;
and yet it is far less scary,
because it doesn’t pretend nor hide
and then stab the world from the left-hand side.
…to invoke solely the weaker arguments and yet triumph
is a talent worth more than a hundred thousand drachmae.
~ Aristophanes, Clouds
Despite the velvet rhetoric and carefully coated
Evasion of the simple truth (what is truth)-
Man’s heart is desperately wicked
And deceitful above all things -
Guile is the blueprint of his tongue
Often spoken softly so we lean in
Grasping to hear the whispered promises of his words
Until whispers evolve into the roar of tyranny
Enslaving both the unwary and not.
Poets are often solitary,
Eschewing social amenities,
Surrounding their castles with Boxberry,
Cursing the unwary with obscenities
Best left to the imaginations
Of hermits and old men,
Whose skill in communications
Sends gray-haired women back to the hen-
House.
Shadows are creeping from the deep
abyss swallowing us
one by one like little lost sheep
unwary of the puss
of evil slithering
of lightness withering
and foolish dithering
while you are sleeping
shadows are creeping!
The heart of night, where gravity prevails;
A force unseen, yet felt in trembling bones;
Awake, where time folds in upon itself;
A silent hunger, swallowing unwary stars.
No light escapes the shadow’s grasp;
The singularity, dense, unmeasured, deep.
A true enigma, the cosmos’ fatal wound;
Around its edge, a spiral dance of dust;
Bright rage of atoms caught, yet never freed;
An endless whirlpool—aching, cold, and vast;
Where space and fate entwine in a mystery.
What lies beyond the rim, no mind ever knows;
Horizons closed to dreams or mere mortal eyes;
The laws of nature loosened, warped, and bent;
Where even light must bow and lose its way.
Yet in this dark, creation finds its place;
The birth of stars, the death of ancient suns;
All time compressed to echoes, beats, and sighs;
A story written, the Universe’s book of the dead.
Cosmic Death Poetry Contest
2/2/2026
Sponsored by: Seth Pina
January is never meant for blue
It is always of pure gold and the pearls
These days, if you wouldn't argue how true
It has done the do, January curls
Forgive January for its merry
Seized up by December's bill payment
And its galore enjoyment, unwary
Toasting eyes of its darling assortment
It was like a mile of thousand gazes
Grievous goodbye's wish, everyday is long
Seems unfortunate like lonely phases
How ideas run in disarray so wrong
December has blessed January rooks
In its entirety of heavenly nooks
Surely, the troubling peace of previous nights
Shall I see no more from February
The class dinner that breakfast deeply benights
Happy to see the best cautionary
Grateful for the opportunity, Sir
Knowing fully what time mean to pretend
Have I to unseal the veil not so blur?
Or get mind accepts to become unbend?
All baggages' swags claim to be of prudence
Young mind; old way home to pickup any
See discordant bail out of innocence
Enforce blinded choice on times so many
Thanks dearly Sir for the closed eyes given
No offense but heal flurry once driven
a place to rest
and wait for prey
a trap for the unwary
song of fairies
in the orchard
stealing stealing*
morning dewdrops
drape cathedrals
in the chapel
stolen kisses
in the orchard
in the moonlight
*Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard
~ Leigh Hunt, circa 1840
Unwary doesn't know happiness coming from sounds at the warzone
And various pleasures at the arena of courage and valor
When brave warriors say the word of testament with passion
Ground of earth trembled again sky and the throne
Let's fight in the way of Allah and take fame and glory
At the Quran Almighty Lord promises victory
Creator of universe made it obligatory to fight in his way
All rising name of my ancestors for the sake of Allah by war
Whom conquered the worlds is our ancestors it's right
They were all fair and protected the prayer to noble God
Let's fight in the way of Allah and take fame and glory
At the Quran Almighty Lord promises victory
Written by Gazi Ahmet Muhtar Pasha
Translation Onur Ünlü
In the evening quiet hours silence speaks loudly of her
while outside the stars forget to twinkle and the moon hides its face
until morning sun brightens day and sparkles on dewdrops.
He recalls her laughter when spring flowers begin to bloom
each one chosen carefully as if she knew they would long outlast
her temporary stay with him upon this hallowed earth.
There are thorns on the summer roses that are quick to prick
the unwary garden wanderer as he selects the perfect
bloom for lost love now sleeping beneath a marble marker.
Winter arrives quite suddenly with icy cold despair
and wind whipping drafts against the lonely cabin once built for her
his rose of youth long dead and gone he lays his head to rest.
a Curtal Sonnet
Sun bids good night from the edge of the world
as long shadows prepare us for a night
in perpetual patterns of life lived
in the motion of things and in stars twirled,
giving magical moments of delight,
designed to remind be quick to forgive.
Long shadows can devour the unwary~
polish your dreams, let hope keep your eyes bright
and long shadows will no longer misgive
the dark for the light; sad for the merry~
in all things upgive!
I am a pine cone tree in the Evergreen state of Washington
My lower branches hang downward, that slap the unwary with pine needles, pine cones, and a hidden —squirrel
The mid branches stretch out for birds to congregate for their nesting
While the upper branches in its smaller gamut reach for the sun
We rally together in the face of windstorms
Albeit, we stand helpless as our forgiving aged remnants tend beneath our girth as the drying summer —heat threatens us
The beast's droppings enrich our soil
Rainwater nourishes us for the furtherance
We exalt in the sands' host of its endless pour through time
And revel in the promise of our pine cone familial forest, assuring our survival's worth
Blunt sense sharpened by subtle trance
lacerates the languishing psyche
that doesn’t slink,
unwary of mortal deception.
The shards of singularity
transfigure in a blink
into passion potion of dreams,
adrift in ephemeral delusive flow,
porous essence sips the sanguine drink.
Everywhere the white man put his foot
unerringly on unwary locals he stepped
'til they became downtrodden
unable their customs to accept
physically mentally financially
from top to toe stern to stem
to his own advantage
he used abused and exploited them
no matter their culture
what floats their boat but gets my goat
Government-approved
he pushed religion down their throat
lies were spoken treaties broken
but we can't undo what they have done
and after all these years of dislocation
history has shown too little too late
reparation is no compensation
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