It is not where you have been,
or the color of your skin,
that determines your real worth.
God loved you before your birth!
So…be still, listen and know:
what life will to you, now show,
and wherever hence will trod,
He is with you…Go with God.
- by Darrell Simmerman © 2025
Sometimes I wonder if eventually the rot leaves way for love,
if the thick layer of hope on my lips is enough to get myself out of the trenches,
I wonder if I’m held captive to my past because my past is just a reason to hate,
Am I in fact hateful?
do I hate the fact that it feels as though my past has deteriorated any thought of being loved future?
sometimes I just want to crawl out of my skin and soak it in bleach,
Allow every last sin to burn away at the chemicals on my skin
am I dirty forever?
is it really purity culture or just a lack of self esteem
I love myself repeatedly but it never seems to stick in the moments that truly decipher one’s loyalty to themselves
Conflict-ion of loyalty, love, and desperation.
- V.B
And so we wait.
As time stands still
we hold our breath and wait.
The rising of the sun,
the disappearing of the moon,
life goes on as we wait.
The pendulum in motion.
Time passing that we will never see again
yet still we wait.
We let time run through our fingers
as if we didn’t know its value.
Like watching money burn.
Sometimes it’s the thing to do
but… soon enough comes the day
we recognize our folly.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Friends
by Frank Daub
It was an open door
that, without sound,
called me in.
I stood with hesitation until I realized my sin
of never trusting.
I reckoned, in the human-only-way,
that such a friendly looking door
could only be surprise demand
of meeting expectations.
I saw only with my eyes
and not my soul.
Yet without entering through that threshold,
I somehow realized
That I could not be whole
enough to love.
Outside I waited, long enough
to shake the fear and take the chance
that there are friends inside,
friends to bring me song and dance,
to bring me dreams
to tell me stories of loving.
I entered then,
And enter every chance that comes,
To meet and sing and dance,
To know that I am home.
Poets, make spells,
And good poets, make them well
Enough, that you might
Come, to understand
Your Self
Better than
You, could ever tell.
In the vast universe of crowd around
One forgets to feel his own presence and charm
Everything else seem so perfect and impeccable
One does not value his own potential and worth
But,when one realizes his inner self
He understands his soul and worth
He starts to love himself
Fearing no lies and betrayal
Though the world is full of lies and fallacies
The inner self knows,what he is
No one can fool him with a fake smile
Once he follows the path of wisdom
In solitude, one feels his value
Understanding, what he seeks
Loving thyself is the greatest feeling
The worth of which,nobody can rate
When one understands his thoughts and beliefs
He knows,what he actually needs
The emotions and feelings that the heart holds
In search of inner self, one can know
One understands what he believes and why
Does not need any approval from others to survive...
Vultures verify vulnerable villages,
Vacuuming value, venerating vaults.
Voters vilified, voices vetoed,
Votes vanished, victories volatile.
Visible villains veil violations,
Virtuous veterans victimized via vanity.
Vast vaults versus vacant vessels,
Value vaporized, virtue vandalized.
Vice validates violence, violence validates vice,
Vicious vortex, vicious vice.
Victims vilified, victors vindicated,
Verdicts valued via victory.
Vassals versus visionaries,
Veins vibrating, voices volcanic.
Volition versus validation,
Vital versus virtual vocation.
Verify every version.
View every veil.
Value verification versus verbal virtue-signaling.
Vision without visibility becomes voluntary blindness.
Vengeance? Vacant.
Virtue? Variable.
Victory? Valueless without volition.
Value lives via voluntary vision,
Verses vibrating with visceral veracity.
The term ‘sacrifice’ has been sacrificed
~ no longer worth its high price
Heirloom is kept as family’s treasure
Legacy of cultural values’ worth
Defying heritage-loss amidst dearth
Yon third generation-wealth’s exposure.
Transcending all modernization-trends
While transformed for functional need
Heirloom’s style exudes our forefathers’ creed
Expressing close ties among clans and friends.
Grateful to have worn such heirloom with pride
I praise the Lord* for my lineage that’s blest
Around home’s warmth and parental care’s zest
Cherishing to stay in the victor’s side.
Winning “Best Costume” for this heirloom’s seal
My heart does soar toward triumphant flight
Then photo displays thanksgiving delight
Revealing gracious patriotism zeal.
*Psalm 34:1 I will bless the Lord at all times: his praise shall continually be in my mouth.
June 17, 2026
10th place, "THE MARVELOUS THINGAMAJIG" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Daniel Henry Rodgers; judged on 7/2/2026
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
Goes life’s unyielding clock.
When life begins,
The whole world spins.
Chasing, chasing,
Endless racing,
Always wanting more,
Blind to what’s in store.
Grasping dreams that slip like sand,
Time moves on, just out of hand.
Moments lost we cannot win,
Still the clock ticks on within.
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
Hear the echo of the clock,
We race to catch our dreams,
Running past us like a stream.
In the end we turn to dust,
Chasing God that now we trust.
Tick, tock, tick, tock
No more ticking clock
Not in wealth or what we chase,
But in God’s love we find our place.
You can't halt the falling sand
nor still the clock's relentless hand.
But you can kindle each grain as it falls
to relish each gleam, each joy it recalls.
A good laugh can stretch any hour,
a dance crowns each minute with power.
Rage against the ravages of fading light,
fling wide the shadows calling in the night.
Age is not the thief we fear—
Let its toll, draw us near
to linger longer, hearts together,
drifting softly down like a feather.
You can’t add days to life’s brief rhyme,
but you can inflate each tick of time.
When the dealer stoops low to call the game,
go all in, with eyes bright, a living flame.
Time slips quietly through open hands,
Coins fall swiftly from pockets unseen,
Every second is a chance that lands,
Moments change for what might’ve been.
Coins fall swiftly from pockets unseen,
Lost hours adrift; ambition has flown,
Moments change for what might’ve been.
Dreams are bought with effort alone.
Lost hours adrift; ambition has flown,
The clock ticks gold into silent night,
Dreams are bought with effort alone,
Value measured in the fading light
The clock ticks gold into silent night,
Time slips quietly through open hands,
Value measured in the fading light,
Every second is a chance that lands.
Rose colored glasses?
No, crimson-colored glasses
To see the lashes
The lashes received
On the broken body of
Agape’s only Son
That endured wrath
On the mass’s behalf, we
We need, He bleeds us
Help us aspire
Look higher than the spire
From the gathering
Paschal Agnus Dei
Righteousness imputed to
All crimson value
We flagrantly sin
A flagrum on Him was used
Your repentance due
From crimson-lensed frames
We can look through to the stains
Washed whiter than snow
Makeup is a sow of seed
It is born out of greed
When you have God's work love with hatred
Pure beauty you fear may bring loss
It is a true self love in plus
A way to sow worth without a clause
The best of gain
Is the show of main
Though all is vain
We’re made to feel little.
Like peons on the board of life.
We’re not insignificant and interchangeable.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
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