I am too obsessed.
There.
I imagine too deeply.
There.
I long too intensely.
There.
I love myself too much.
There.
I impeach this self of mine.
Yet, obsession is better than lethargy,
Deep imagination dances with longing,
And my love temporarily turns a blind eye to its own impeachment.
Before my final deathbed, I shall be judged.
"Even if this very moment is a swamp, live within it.
Do not even struggle. Like a little frog,
Just gently poke your eyes above the surface of the swamp."
"Ribbit, ribbit."
oceans remember
the crimson spring -
with longing
The Colosseum sits~
a fractured crown,
its arches a circlet of light
where jeweled sun gathers,
I walk its perimeter,
my fingers grazing limestone
warm as living skin.
Dust rises~
a faint ghost of applause, of fear,
of spectacle braided with longing.
History here is not distant;
it presses close,
grainy and intimate.
The broken tiers curve
like a half-remembered sentence,
one the empire began,
but time insisted on finishing.
Grass grows where violence once bloomed;
the sky claims the open roof
as if to remind the ruin
that even power must answer to light.
I feel a strange tenderness:
noting how even magnificence erodes,
how power becomes dust,
how what remains is not violence
but vulnerability~
the open sky pouring through
what once was sealed.
The Colosseum reminds me
that time builds and erases in the same breath,
and that beauty endures most fiercely
in the places where the world
has already learned how to break.
The endless aching sobs
of the whispers of rain in the storm
pierce my trembling heart
with a slow devouring languor
that only you can soothe
Suffocating
pale with longing
when the midnight hour tolls
I drown in memories of you
your touch
your voice
your eyes
and I weep
with unbearable sweetness
yet I surrender
carried helpless
on this wild warm wind
scattered here and there
like a dead leaf in storm
but burning
alive
forever yearning
to fall back into you
Upon a downy pillow top
I slowly close my weary eyes.
A lovely aura enters in
and whispers gentle lullabies.
Inspired romance invading sleep;
my spirit leaves it’s dream behind
and journeys through emotion's realm;
a lovers' pact to be defined.
Enclosed inside seduction's room,
exquisite candles light the night.
A golden bed awaits our heat;
entrancing music leads our flight.
Her velvet kisses spark a fire,
augmented far beyond restraint.
Our hands caress, a touch that's missed;
it sates our thirst like fine champagne.
Desires are painted, thrills are etched;
exposure rules this teasing game.
As streams of pleasure warmly flow,
we're lost in rapture's bluest flame.
Composure flees as lust explodes
and ecstasy's attainment is planned.
We've set our minds to break the mold;
dramatic thrusts have sole command.
Propelling deeper midst the dark,
constrictions grip with longing force,
releasing waters from the dam,
completing satisfaction's course.
With admiration in excess,
this partnership becomes benign
and adoration takes the stage,
our knitted essence deemed divine.
**Yes—
I am the boldest lover in all the world.
Who could ever claim to love more fiercely than I?
I spent countless years behind a window,
gazing at a path I knew you would never take toward me.
I sent arrow after arrow of love your way,
fully aware you would snap them and cast them aside.
I bought you gifts with trembling joy,
though I knew you would never choose a gift for me.
And I wrote you poems—
words you would never read.
I remained in love with you,
knowing you would never love me back;
I burned with longing for you,
knowing I would never reach your hands.
And still—forever—
I am your lover.
Who could dare claim
to love more than I?**
Thread of the world’s first motion,
Turning the wheel of ages,
Tallying stars and shadows,
Teaching bones their stories,
Tempering life with longing,
Tugging all paths toward stillness,
Tending what must become dust.
Thread of the world’s first motion,
Turning the wheel of ages,
Tallying stars and shadows,
Teaching bones their stories,
Tempering life with longing,
Tugging all paths toward stillness,
Tending what must become dust.
Fly shadow fly
seeking another apple on outskirts of stages
I will not move unanswered
Powerful
is my name
Shadow flies whimpering
hosting another cloud filled with longing rhythms
an audience seeking crystal droplets
Showering
like young poets
Seeking another apple
pear found instead, the bite poor verse
whisper into tangled plaited hair
Paperwork
to translate longing
Outskirts of stages
I did not move upon a shore
there lies my reddened core
Shivering
a no return
Search no longing
sigma waves seek to moisten dry throat
they float only my apple
Exposure
for your tongue
__________________________
[ Poet’s Notes : Eliska Form :
5 lines in each Stanza
3 / 7 / 5 / 1 / 3 words per line.
Line 4 constraint:
3 or more syllables ]
Honourable Mention :
All Poetry Contest
March 26
The tree stands quiet
In the absence of birds.
Its branches, once bright with song,
Now sway with a lonely sound.
The wind moves through its leaves,
And they whisper like tired memories.
Empty nests rest on fragile twigs—
Small homes that once held warmth.
It remembers the gentle mornings
When songs rose with the sun,
When little heads lifted from the nest
And the sky seemed full of promise.
How alive those hours were.
Now the color of its leaves fades,
Turning yellow with the season—
And with longing.
The birds have flown
Toward warmer lands,
Following a softer light,
Dreaming of safer days ahead.
The old tree remains behind,
Rooted in faithful soil.
It feels the cold more deeply now,
But it does not curse the sky.
It knows that wings are meant to travel,
And youth must search for distant hope.
Still, in the long evenings of winter,
When the air grows thin and still,
It holds their vanished songs
Like a quiet ache within its heart—
Proud that it once gave them shelter,
Even if it must now stand alone.
POTD : 12.2.26
First Placing: Standard Contest
Sponsor : JCB Brul
Daisies could not bloom bound by debt of Time
we tried to unknot ropes tied across dimes
by deeds proceeding of their own accord
songs not written by either of us unfree
as white petals fell dropping one by one
Hours of tasting, smelling, touching lost
on battlefields, in barracks when away
you had to haste with epaulettes torn
I rooted a chasing escape, sweat dripping
tied to wheat fields watching babes chaste
Bald eagles soared above winelands stolen
gulls and albatross escorted galleon laden with longing ~ South to North, winds gushing
your wishes driven by wrenching penalties
seals then oceans carried lips and knees
Your breastbone turned from an unborn world
too pregnant in fluid womb of clocks chiming
fled you from aching loss of Love’s caged raging
stoic in withholding fist of sacrifice, away you got
drowning throbbing Heart in my own bleeding
_________________________________
as I sit
in quiet of night
almost asleep
but not quite
somehow it slips
through shadows of time
and space unknown
a whispered hey
somehow a voice
full of love
with longing deep
somehow I know
somewhere they wait
longing like me
in darkness deep
the same as me
somehow I know
that someday we
somewhere will meet
and together be
whispered hey
while half asleep
alone in the night
On the 21st of December,
you came into the world.
And fate
grew heavier.
Today we bow our heads.
Not only in joy,
but in quiet sorrow.
Happy Birthday, Thandi.
The mountains do not dance loudly.
They ache.
Because beauty
always carries a cost.
The rivers sing softly,
as if afraid
to disturb time.
The trees remember you
with trembling leaves.
I may forget the day.
Forgive me.
The mind is weak.
But the soul remembers
with pain.
With longing.
On this day,
I signed an unseen contract.
Written in silence.
Sealed with fear.
And hope.
Love is not light.
It is deep water.
It is knowing
everything can be lost.
May this birthday
carry you gently forward.
Through joy.
Through wounds.
May the wind whisper your name
with tears in its voice:
Thandi.
Happy Birthday.
May God grant you years.
And may love
be strong enough
to survive them.
I hope my poems aren't too many, too soon.
I have hope this love is our ultimate boon.
I doubt in sense if life will take you from me.
I have no doubts in what's in you, that I see.
I miss you with longing deeper than for any.
I miss your touch, for without it, I go crazy.
I'm sorry, if I'm appearing as too obsessed.
I'm not really sorry though, for I feel blessed.
I know in-spirit you're always in my room.
I know someday you'll be my beloved groom.
It's just I yearn for you to be here every day.
It's just I'm aware how hard life is here, OK?
I hope my poetry is never too much for you,
I have hope my poems to you feel true.
I doubt only in possible unfair circumstance.
I have no doubts this is our lifelong dance.
In the silence of the night, when shadows weave their tapestry of lost dreams,
Abyssal mirrors gaze at us from the depths with silent eyes,
Souls dance on spider threads woven from time,
Bearing the heavy burden of the world, in webs of paradoxes, unstretched.
Beneath our steps, the ground trembles, a sea of hidden darkness,
An infernal abyss silently lurks beneath the fragile veil of existence,
We lose ourselves in the labyrinth of thoughts, where light and shadow embrace,
In a waltz of fate, where silence sings unheard melodies.
Each breath becomes an echo of eternity trapped in moments,
We gaze at the horizon and see how the sky breaks into thousands of paradoxes,
In the depths of the soul, we bear the burden of an endless universe,
Where magic and melancholy dance their eternal, uninterrupted waltz.
Through the mist of dreams, we find ourselves in the abyss that engulfs us with longing,
And understand that we are but fleeting shadows on the stage of infinity,
Through the cosmic silence, we feel how time melts into eternity,
And we, travelers through the night, lose and find ourselves in forgotten light.
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