Today I can smell,
nothing of the room.
That's all I smell in Ms. Rilling's room,
at the end of my junior year.
Truth be told,
I am conflicted,
about,
the end of my junior year.
I am happy the school year is over
yet scared about being one step closer
to being thrown to the wolves,
thrust into adulthood,
into the cruel world,
into the complex and complicated thing,
that is college.
I am worried about
how things might go on my own.
But I take a few deep breaths,
in and out,
tell myself it will be okay,
that adulthood is not here yet,
at the end of my junior year.
Campfire.
Banjo Jamboree.
Talking about the books we’ve been reading.
The seven-year-old says clearly,
“Let’s not talk about murder mysteries.
The campfire is in front of us and the
beautiful stars are above us.”
She’s right.
A more simple time
Easier smiled through.
Could it otherwise appear?
Whose air, echoing, more clear
Freedom's shout. Friends drew.*
Daring wanderer's;
Undespaired about!
Home door, ma? Dusk-oped, received.
With nothing bought as retrieved
Pond, storm drain from out.*
* Large green spaces
* Tadpole, ball
This year was the year of Poetry.
I wrote 156 poems this year on poetry soup.
156 poems this year to remind people to Trust in Jesus.
God is with us and we are going home soon.
Faith in Jesus grows with each poem.
Lord Jesus stay with us always.
Thank you Jesus for all you have done with me this year of Poetry.
I will see you in the clouds family.
Praise Lord Jesus forever for he is worthy of all Glory and Honors.
Samael: "The orchard is open to omphaloses the stables are Sable's cheery O's and so cereal of woodwork, is fairy cereal so bold."
Uraeal: "I open the gates true north crashes down, the hell of highwater is where the shark surely drowned, but the westward gate is closed and so is the east and the south closes now, like heathery feasts.
The Pro: "Should be palaver again, the moon bright the brittle bread?"
Samara: "I bred in this fire, I tire of liars who are of the sort who won't kindle my fire."
Gladius: "The other festoon is under thine eyes, like he needn't cross-work on crosswords for prized possession, taken by the ghoul of Mary sent brethren."
Aurora: "If the course if taken by the northmost gate, let golden rakes fill the plates."
Helel: "Should we wait for the north gate to crumble, before he humbug the buggie and send swallows aflutter?"
(Anonymized character) "I created once before now I was become death, the pita bread moon like the harvest moon's friend."
---End of act V---
Samara: "Opening the thimbles under the waxing moon, you'll wish it was waning in clock town's too soon."
Samael: "Over the mountain and through the woods to grandmother's house we go, with hand grenades and razor blades high-ho, high-ho, high-ho."
Uraeal: "To be so uncomely by the waxing moon is retarded at best, she picks too many daisies to be wolfish at a fest."
Helel: "Helel, or so I've heard, let's make this short and sour, for the dithery young girl."
Aurora: "Time passes like Time was incarnate let's ask the others here, if folly is so comely."
Gladius: "Moving the orchard like agrarian gregorian fools?" "Who made the large ice-bath beside the stilled moon?"
The Pro: "I came I saw I thwart not, sold out shows are not my conifers."
(Anonymized character) "I still build palaces on the moon, where stairway to heaven crosses the dark side of the moon."
---End of act IV---
The Pro: "Timmies grow under the heather yes, we hear that too, the shale rocks earthen faults and spouts meters and rhythmic soornteens like ask the cold fall moon."
Samara: "Oldest wept upon bridge, the lovers crest cradles the lover's bridge, two brigades that hold together the trust of men and women at arms, like wings sent Demeter into the fog
Samael: "Came, went, it's always the same, the old lion's mane, the goat's beard is the fashionable game."
(Anonymized character) "Stellar! Like the fickle few! We shouldn't press too much wine to winny while we mew!"
Helel: "Tomorrow never dies, the like-minded sun repressed, never dies in the night twin flames of tomorrow's best."
Aurora: "Timidity be slow upon the river pale the horse-drawn carriage has foregone the bitter yales."
Uraeal: "Goosed up for the gander? Myne thyne fyne lynes are wolly and not prancer!"
Gladius: "Gooseflesh la'amore? Sinnder down the doors and let from that lovingly pour!"
---End of act I---
Autumn's many colorful moons seen through the lens of a camera,
I see beauty and color everywhere.
As a child,
I did not know there was a harvest moon.
I loved watching the full autumn moon,
as it seemed to change colors.
Autumn's many colorful moons seen through the lens of a camera,
have changed over the years.
What has made this change?
The huge night clear sky is not as clear as it once was,
the full bright moon is not as bright.
Do we see the change year after year?
Do we even care?
I weep for the beauty of olden Autumn days,
a more peaceful time.
A bright full moon and clear night's sky,
that was once seen through the lens of a camera.
Bobby still remembers his High School Sophomore year
Rarely do his other memories still ring so clear
But he also recalls letters to Christine (his girl at the time)
They are so vivid he can quote every line
Sometimes they skipped their classes just to talk for a while,
He adored that girl to madness,
her brilliance and style
That year was precious,that year was a bit wild
He's not living with any regrets,
That year and that girl left impressions he'll never forget
By: J.N.R Dutton
It’s raining all night, and I’m sleepless
Each random thought carries me through
This habit to think is ridiculous
Except when I’m thinking of you
Hope you would approve my idea
I’ve no desire to celebrate
The date of upcoming New Year
The symbol of time that can’t wait
Champagne and that fabulous salad
We can go without easily
The spruce with the shimmering garland
Oh dear, it’s too much for me
I paid off a many New Years
Each one was no better than old
I’ve watched the sunrise over hills
I’ve lived up a tale no one told
So why not remain in the past
To drown in your eyes with the sun
That jumped like a ball between us
When we were alive, having fun.
The unique bleat of the ram’s horn (shofar) draws the crowds
like the wailing at the Temple’s western wall, its symbolism plays loud
Yet it is not the essence of the Jewish New Year
which is belonging –
to his own people, one must first connect
And if he will not, God too he will come to reject
Everyone is fond of the summer season
some just can't get enough of that sun
they travel worldwide to gain its rays
but the other seasons are required as one
Now here's a thought to ponder upon
what if summer lasted all year long
just imagine having continuous sunshine
our hearts would be filled with joyful songs
Children would want extra long holidays
even they could have classes held outside
more fun to learn about nature
sometimes summer rain keeps us inside
Now what if summer ended for good
and worst of all, winter lasted the year
nothing but cold, snow and ice
perish the thought, for it fills with fear
The heavy coats and gloves are on
never to take off at any time
well, maybe we'll stick to the four seasons
so ideal really, to keep us in our prime
Autumn leaves an aftertaste that kisses cold.
Then transfuses startled green veins with gold.
A shivering whisper, slips through oak and elm.
As faded yellow disciples tumble from their realm.
As it hums through wheat; the heavy heads bend low.
To ripen while the last warm amber winds still blow.
A long-drawn-out sigh, draws summer from its reign,
Gold and red leaves tumbling down to an empty lane.
Thin mist curls upwards from the cooling ground,
Cold breath slips down, through cracks, without a sound.
Gasps rattle shutters, and worry the tiles and doors.
Sends dry leaves scurrying like mice around the floors.
Autumn breathes on apples till their red cheeks glow,
Then thumps them down one by one onto the ground below.
It finds the restless geese beneath the cloud.
And beckons them south, to join the gathering crowd.
At dusk its voice turns hoarse, as darkness grows.
Growing rasping and raw, with winter up its nose.
Then Autumn, now breathless, loosens one last leaf.
It spins to Earth, collapsing, in gold-flared relief.
Trying
to retrieve
the things
you threw off
the boat
before they
sink
and with them
my legacy
They drift
in the
saturation
of what never
should have
been said
and never
should have
been thought
I
fall into
the dark
water
where our
past
spawns in anger
treading
in desperation
Hoping
for a
last reprieve
still floating
on the
surface
of what
never really was
— and never will be again
(Dreamsleep: August, 2026)
~ It would have been better had man never been created
Now that he is here, let him examine his deeds. ~
Talmud Arachin 15a
Is man a sparkling diamond, the crown of Creation
worthy of the angels’ anticipation
In his first hours of existence, Adam disobeyed God's one rule
Our legacy today -- an abundance of fools
The snake tests every succeeding generation
master at disguising evil as dazzling innovation...
When we look in the mirror, what do we see
One who serves friends and family ~ or ‘selfish me’
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