Every day we are ushered as the school bells peal
To inaugurate the start of the next school day’s zeal
Everyday we pledge allegiance to our flag
And to our nation, and to our God we appeal
There is teaching and learning going on
As the custodian passes by each class
Removing black marks from the hallway floors
Cleaning finger smudges from the glass
He knows the goings-on and those coming and those going
He knows what to do in the heat and after every snowing
He is the surveyllerist and purveyor of them
He’s behind the scenes to keep the school year rolling
As soon as the school year starts, there is a period at the end of the sentence
And the adventure of summer cleaning commences
And the kenopsia of a school vacated
Eerily all cries and sighs and laughter as echoes have faded
Free will is a choice: to yield or to strive.
It rewards the decision, solidifying the path: to yield or to strive.
God bestowed this on us all, yet we call Him a tyrant
because it feels unfair to have only two choices.
Our lives are not ushered by hollow guarantees.
We are granted a gift—of necessary choices.
Yet we stumble in the dark, following our own hearts—
knowing they can err, misled by our own impulses.
But beneath the mistakes, a quiet awareness remains—
pure, simple, and formless.
That is where the search ends, and where humanity finds peace.
So, the question remains: How will you decide?
They met each other in a dream one night
In the mist by the bank of the river.
When their eyes locked in their own embrace
They both felt a quiver
Each were captured in the moment.
The water hushed the trees.
Thumping hearts and shallow breaths
Were carried in the breeze.
The gap between them began to close
A tip-toe at a time.
At the lightest connection of their fingertips
A bright spark struck sublime.
They both glanced down at their hands
At the feel of irresistible desire.
They thought about what these hands could do
Their imaginations catching fire.
Their eyes locked again with lips curved to grin
They both felt a sudden rush.
She was a lady, he a gentleman
Yet their lust bled into blush.
He ushered her to take a seat
On a bench made just for two.
They took a deep breath and faded away
Into a hazy hue.
Though they enjoy it when they meet
In the fantasies of the night.
It impacts on the loneliness they feel
When such dreams take flight.
Each night when they settle down
The dreams they hope for evade them.
But when they least expect it,
They will meet each other again.
He boldly admits it publicly.
Wry humour is his weapon of choice.
Comedian ushered directly to jail.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Aromatic scents fill the air
Unraveling warm and loving memories
Gentle greetings convey their welcome
Underneath a sky that's glowing
Saffron-coloured hues filling the horizon
Transition well in the twilight
Sultry soulful sentiments sweetly sway
Unfurled and subtly ushered in
Nimbus clouds passing give way
AP: 1st place 2026, Honorable Mention 2026
mid song ~
yet almost lost to longing
methods of the mundane
soothe no more
distance holds my gaze
in ways that purge time
but not infatuation
the intricacy of binding spells compels
steals me back
to last gasps
of ecstasy
shimmers of tears clash
with murmurs still embedded in stone
lapping waters draw me under
until it is I that is too weak of will
within your embrace
I should expire
entranced completely by desire
no lapsing thoughts
nor dread in swathes
a mystery scaled
in a myriad of ways
woken up and ushered in
retrieved from perpetuality of sin
by moving earth
and crashing wave
transfixed eternal
by all the ways you save
In kannigaten
Resides a fair maiden.
Whenever I behold her face
I know in spring the green will resurface
The birds shall chirrup in the trees.
Bathed in the morning freshness.
The lavender of the coloured roses
Shall rent the air anew
A new birth shall be ushered in
Under nature’s glorious might
Through my glassy pictures
I behold your face
Presently a miniature I see now
Some day the real you will stand
Then will the world see Ann-Sotie
The fair maiden from Sweden
My peace a distant memory,
and hope so far removed
My fears return to wonder,
When the madness will ensue
Each tortured voice which torments me,
When I've pondered at the door
Has whispered softly in my ear,
'What are you fighting for?'
'When forgiveness seems so silent,
and your sorrows seem so loud
Do your fears escape detection,
as you face the maddening crowd?'
'Will hope remain your company,
While shadows conquer light
When dreams have all but vanished,
Til you've lost the will to fight'
As I shivered in the silence,
That each shadow ushered in
While all the voices in my head,
Were screaming once again
I tried to yell 'surrender!',
'Just tell me what is true!'
My mind a distant memory,
No hope left to remove
Spiderwebbed folds hang
from thin arms.
A circle of lamplight
is his exercise yard.
Daylight is a brief fluttering wing
against closed eyelids.
Night floats above him,
and in those dark hours
he feels a light-headed immunity
from the gravity
of open graves.
Outside in the hard-wired clamor,
buses and trucks growl up droning hills.
Sink holes open and shut
within a rushing sky.
Order and chaos are ushered in and out
of crazy-eyed cats.
Sometimes his mind
is a wheezy colostrum
of milky effusions.
He paints himself with one finger
in the air.
The dying man hitchhikes under a hand,
feels the warmth of anything in full bloom.
He sighs, then gurgles like a coffee pot.
The wispy guy remains,
always sinking ever upwards
toward what - he knows not,
however, it’s not here
so, he doesn't care.
Nisus and Euryalus: insisted them all to be older than 25 the age of
the matured voice. There they could "fach" without worrying who they offended. Some ultra conservative persons
found them to be the words used to describe or the words that ushered in uncomfortable conversations
"mention the ***** divorce is near
say your dike friend is as freindly as
a yak
tell the story of bridled glory and they
will say you need to see a quack"
I must admit I liked the fit
Swigg and Liqueur
a formal agreement
Strang: Guirtar Strangs thats
the thang Profundo due yo' thang!"
Within me,
A storm awakens,
A stealth part of me,
Twilight does not assuage it,
Hidden night.
Door opens,
I’m ushered through it,
A storm arises,
A recalcitrant darkness,
An echo.
October 30, 2025.
Nette Onclaud,
Pentastitch It Poetry Contest.
The woman of the house glances at the clock
Sabbath must be ushered in chic-chac*
Friday eve, hers is the lead role for the People of the Book
Sabbath one minute late, the Queen simply will not brook
___________________________________________________
*Transliteration of Hebrew slang for 'right away.'
quiescent heart and vibrant spirit
enlivened by bliss beats commingle
manifests within delightful surprises
ushered when pheromones mingle
Death has ushered me into a new Home—
The Bloom has opened—wide—
No Chamber here for sorrow—
But endless Rooms—inside—
A quiet hush of Petals—
Unfurl upon the Air—
As if the Soul were Gardened—
By Hands divinely fair.
The Walls are made of Silence—
Yet Music drifts between—
An unseen Choir attending—
What once the Grave had seen.
I lay my old attire—
Upon the Dust below—
And walk into the Meadow—
Where the everlasting—grows.
The Bloom has opened—fully—
And bids me—enter so—
Goodnight to all my family --
I can now release my soul.
The wind rose early with the busying dawn;
And, rushing into the long avenue of beech -
Laid down years ago to accommodate labouring feet -
Began to scatter over neatly cut verge and lawns
With its own inimitable unruly gust, blow and fuss...
Within a cascading maelstrom of vivid bright yellowness.
Against strong trunks, held firm by steadfast roots,
Groans from creaking boughs as they upwardly heaved
Upon frantically thrashing branches showering
rusted, golden leaves;
Carpeting the rough stones below my trampling boots.
A mad kaleidoscope of leaping, swirling, skipping
colour
Where, as a child, I had once rediscovered...
Two green sandstone gate pillars sat well back
That ushered me under this arched, canopied track.
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