Asks a moon mate
if I still feel that subtle
flame beneath my heart
when she seeks to reach for me
I smile at her fleeting warmth
and move ahead
The babysitter across the hallway
lit a candle during the blackout.
Soft music played in the apartment
I checked on their place
to see the toddler asleep on the couch,
the parents away on a date.
A soft glow shared.
We left our doors open
to keep an eye on each other.
Dusk swept over a line, apartments
at the edge of town. We were left
to the resonance of our silence.
A line of residences
along the street rested
on a Sunday night.
Just beyond a line of trees
a creek took in what the rain had left.
Stars to the west hid somewhere beyond.
DEATHLY WARMTH
My head rolls in hazy smoke.
I feel warmth in the burns of death.
White, sickly ashes stain my plates.
Death sends a warm smile.
The more it burns,
the friendlier death becomes.
The more hell welcomes me,
the more insanity embraces me.
With every cigarette,
my final abode digs deeper.
Never mind, I know what is calling.
I still don't believe,
for the burns of it
only give me an indescribable feeling.
I gladly ignore the warning.
Not all smokers does death embrace faster.
I only die by God's will.
It's not my doing.
It's the doing of cigarettes
the feelings and joy they give.
Either way, they send you down
three glorious roads
The paradise of insanity.
The warmth of death.
The heaven of hell.
Tima Write
I never wished to be the fire
That found a home already weary.
I only carried the warmth I knew,
Never knowing it would become your ruin.
If I had seen those fragile walls,
The cracks hidden beneath your smile,
I would have held my flames with trembling hands,
Afraid to turn another memory into ash.
You say your home no longer stands,
That every corner became dust.
Yet ashes are only what remain
When something once burned brightly.
I cannot gather every broken brick,
Nor erase the scars my heat has left.
But if there is one prayer I still whisper,
It is that another sunrise—not my fire—
Will one day teach your heart
How to become a home again.
And if, in another lifetime,
We meet before the flames are lit,
May I learn to be a lantern instead of a wildfire.
Two houses sit side by side on a quiet residential street.
In one, lives a man with an unlatched gate,
always ready to pause his lawnmower
to ask how your mother is doing,
offering a spare hand when it appears one is needed,
or leaving a basket of fresh tomatoes and cucumbers on the porch step
just because the harvest was good.
In the other lives a shade-peeker, a shadow behind pulled blinds,
who measures his property line down to the inch,
grumbling heavily under his breath when an autumn leaf crosses the boundary,
starting his car engine, revving with an intentional roar,
building a higher fence
out of a quiet, lingering spite.
For years, the coldness attempts to stake its claim,
trying to choke out the light with petty grievances
and silent, harsh glances.
Yet bitterness only locks a person inside their own small fortress,
leaving them alone with the echoes of their own noise,
and barring the door from the inside.
When the real storms roll through,
it isn't the tall fence or the sharp words that hold fast.
The stubborn, simple kindness wins out every time,
outlasting the cold
and leaving a light on in the dark.
A painted smile,
A hollow laugh that rings too true,
Bright, blinding eyes,
That weave a gorgeous lie for you.
A borrowed hug,
That feigns a warmth it cannot hold,
And sugar words,
To trap you in a web of gold.
Sweet, fleeting hours,
That hide the rage they try to drown,
A heavy truth,
That wears a lovely, lying crown.
autumn's cold weather
chases rabbits into homes
huddling for warmth
Nette Onclaud
Light a Pensee
07/28/2026
Wax core
bleeding its heart
feeding flame with its own flesh
inside a cold, ungrateful room
slain, so the dark stays warm.
After a tiring day
Laying on the couch
Having cuddles with you
Sharing the tea, which
I didn’t tell anyone
Having your patience
For my efforts, just
Wanna have your warmth.
brightness hits my face
as sunbeams peek in window
morning wake up time
I was driving a station wagon, Dad on my right
Mom, young kids, and dog in back seat
Construction ahead, a warning light
In my mind I keep the scene on repeat
I saw the truck in my rearview mirror
It was going fast, I was going slow
I couldn't accelerate as it got nearer
It climbed on our wagon, in Idaho.
It forced the rear of the car into asphalt
The rear doors sealed, but the dog did a vault
Mom lifted the kids over, seared her skin
Moved sideways and a flame shot up where she'd been.
We all made it out, and Mormons took us in
Kids made Mormon friends, and we regrouped
Took an airplane the rest of the way to the coast
Not a story of which I can boast.
Dad's summer teaching had to cover the cost
But we won something, not just lost
We found strength and friendship where we didn't expect
From people whose kindness I'll never forget.
Now every flashing warning light
Takes me back to that July.
A rearview mirror, one long breath,
The line between life and death.
Besides the Mormons, I also thank fate
Death has to come, but death had to wait.
These hot summers are
like a hellish furnace
It's no one's fault
but all I can feel
Is mild annoyance
at the hot weather
And a deep desire to hide
and try to stay cool.
Your smile is like the quiet
dawn,
A gentle warmth that lingers
on.
With every word and every
glance,
You turn the ordinary to a
dance.
No grand design or poet's
art,
Could map the rhythm of my
heart.
In all this world, so vast and
wide,
I only want to be right by
your side.
Warmth lingered through the final days
As eternity tried to reign
Over my Dad’s triumphant gaze…
Warmth lingered through the final days
While he declared God’s wondrous ways
Smiting infirmity-caused pain…
Warmth lingered through the final days
As eternity tried to reign*.
*Revelation 1:8 I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty.
June 24, 2026
1st place, "A TRIOLET TO MAKE MY DAY" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich; judged on 7/1/2026
There was a very young man...
He looked down,
He saw flowers
He appreciated them,
There was nothing wrong with that.
He loved things that glittered,
The science was exciting,
Crystals were beautiful too,
How awesome to be interested in reflections of light...
There was everything right with that.
He enjoyed waiting quietly,
A small animal or insect near by,
With his hand out...
So gentle, with a hoping heart.
Seeking friendship, all was right with that.
A young boy,
With a warm heart...
An open mind and kindness as his baseline.
Not bitter, nor a bully...
There wasn't much better than that.
He could be brave and strong
... And soft and kind... And above all, he only told the Truth.
The Truth found him and followed him too.
The End
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