I like to sit down and smoke sometimes late at night
while listening to music online to reflect on my life
and think
About why we as a species even go out of our way
to bash and hate and shame all those who are very
openly distinct
And why our society likes to shame my people into
hating themselves and denying and hiding who they
truly are
And why my people’s special attributes end up forsaken
and crudely positioned on the blankened faces
of other stars
Eventually the skies replied to my inquiry with bold,
intense storms of powerful lightning and
strong thunder
A fae then arrived and told me that so many of the people
around us are very disconnected from
whimsy and wonder
Note: I'm aware it's mostly global warming but one can't help but wonder if perhaps a lot of what's going on now is spiritual. Honestly, I think it is. But I'd rather let the weather experts do most of the talking while I continue to play with my imagination. Don't take this poem literally.
methodic raven
scans with watchful eye
nevermore he thinks
old tree by my door
a bird sits on one bare branch
snow covers the ground
Issa Kobayashi inspired poetry
Contest Judged: 8/1/2026 9:51:00 AM
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
(2nd Place)
Hush folds over the garden; something unseen rearranges ligt.
Shadows lean in unfamiliar angles listening for a name.
By nightfall, even the world knows--a presence has stepped through the veil.
Visitor in my mind.
Please wander through time.
Indulge in departed dreams my subconscious still desires.
Look how far you've roamed.
Into spaces forbidden.
Conjuring up forgotten feelings.
And faces kept hidden.
When life from the stars comes a calling,
Be suave and genteel, not appalling.
One's first words should be:
'Would you like some tea?'
With diction correct, and no drawling.
A vibrant spark of cardinal red,
In Washington state, where the firs are spread.
I'd fly over mountains and through the deep mist,
To find my grandfather, I couldn't resist!
I'd land on his porch on a wet, rainy day,
With a bright crimson coat to chase shadows away.
He'd be cozy inside, with his coffee in hand,
And he'd stare at this bird from a very far land.
I'd tap on the glass with my shiny black beak,
Then fluff up my feathers and cheerfully speak–
With a high, whistling tune, maybe
"tweet-tweet-t-woo!"
A whimsical visit especially for you!
GENTLE VISITOR
"My eyes welcome the sunrise, that iris of fire so pretty in its mascara of pure light." Angela Abraham
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Daylight, a gentle visitor,
stepped softly through the threshold of dawn.
It lingered there, a welcome guest,
dispelling shadows, chasing the night.
A lucid glow, a soft embrace,
illuminating every space.
The morning light, a calming grace,
bringing tranquility, filling the day with peace.
Something was different this morning
I'd gone to bed chilled,
reached for another blanket
knowing I'd have to defrost with coffee
before bracing for the north wind.
But sunlight peeked at me
through my kitchen window.
Too tempting not to open the door
and say, "Good morning."
There it was—
the first crocus greeting me
as if it was her calling card.
I felt the warmth of sunshine
on my face
and grinned knowing Spring
didn't forget to visit.
It was on the 7th of May.
It was in the early part of the day.
He appeared but was never invited.
Upon seeing his kind, I was not delighted.
There were smaller ones I had seen,
But not this size since I was fifteen.
Slowly, around the corner, I saw him glide.
He then settled into his curl as if to hide.
I called a friend and learned that he was out of town.
I then called a relative who could not be found.
Years ago, I touched a large one as it lay in a hedge.
"He's harmless" are the words that my coworker alleged.
Now, 60 years later, a large one had glided onto my patio.
Of this I was certain: He could not stay but had to go.
I then quickly reached for a hoe and a stick for my defense.
That snake was in the wrong place; Of this I was convinced.
Indeed, I was a little afraid and taken aback;
But my fear quickly switched into a mode of attack.
050325PS
The nights were short,
A clear summer, long and hot,
A chickadee visited every dawn,
And caught a stunning view by the pane.
Maybe my nest’s walls knew,
A fluffy gray-black chick who...
Lit the sun pointed to my nest house...
Captured my morning drowse.
A courageous little skylark,
With a notorious chirp crack,
She repeatedly taps my pane,
And sharply beeps, in rhythmic strain.
Pulled from beloved slumber, I scan who,
Through my drowsy eyes, I view...
The vivid rattle, truly, she’s a great dancer,
My ears almost paralyzed by the clatter.
Through the solid unglazed pane its clear,
The morning breeze powers the air,
The lovely melody alarms my doze...
Tirelessly, she airs her pose.
The shrill stole my focus,
A lone owls’ hoot – a secret in the sunrise,
The arduous tweet feels counterfeit,
But the unfolding truth won’t lie or cheat.
You make me
Tingle
The flutter of your wings
Tickles my soul
As your beauty darts before me
Resting for a moment
On my timeline
Capture me please
Let me be absorbed.
Hold time delicately
As you wave and say hello
I want you to live here
In my consciousness
So I can meditate on
The beauty of
This fleeting moment
I hope you feel the love
In some ethereal way
The joy
Of my connection with you
So that it brightens
Your colours
Fashioned by a masterful artist
From the palette of
Whimsical, yet powerful design
Simultaneously
Reflecting into the
Eye that beholds
The extraordinary
Dichotomy of
Real
From first imagined
A fragile construction
Of pure love
Soon the breeze of sadness
Will whisk you away
Yet I will stay
In this moment
Close my eyes and..
Re-live
The wonder
The vibrancy
Of having you
Pass by
As you visited
So closely
Too closely
To ever be forgotten
bird feeder pole snapped in two
suet cakes gone-border collies barking
large furry forager departed- sated
It comes whisking in when least expected,
Its steps silent, its grip too cold.
It slips through cracks, unseen and unchecked,
No whistle blown, no stories told.
Whether the doors are opened or locked,
It doesn't knock to take its due.
Whether the windows are open or closed,
It cares not for the clear sky or view.
It will one day meet us all, face to face,
Perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow.
It visits only at its chosen time, regardless of place,
Carrying both peace and sorrow.
May the heavens be pleased when the last breath is drawn,
For it is a phantom force we can never deflect.
This morning I got visitor...
The cutest ever little guest.
A sparrow, walking as a twister
on my rope with washings space.
It looked at me with browny eyes
and bravely stayed in front...
A piece of bread I found at once
and my guest got his breakfast pot...
I hope that little sparrow friend
will start to come each day.
My crumbs will wait for him no end
and he will bring me joy.
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