One doesn’t stand on the Bongo
With roller affixed to the floor,
But sway as a reed in the wind
Or risk finding oneself thrown o’er.
A lesson from this childhood game:
Our center is found only with change.
The path to an equilib life
Is balancing our yin and our yang.
unsouled seem I as binary star
a twin forever separated in time
space holds ace yet cause and effect
must harvest its dues, no tasty stew
breathed as one by the One
masculine to ground feminine
to sky ~ high is low, mirroring sows
east ties west, four feet be blessed
hearts entwined for missions divine
dualistic artistic to be realistic
black with white etheric swirls
through aeons timelines twirled
union within is goal to achieve
like worker bees we do believe
yin-yang is Almighty's conceive
unsouled we weave to finally
c l e a v e ~
________________________
Honorable Winner Poem
Allpoetry Contest: Theme : unsouled
May 26
She rises where the lotus opens its quiet petals of light.
Moon-water gathers in her palms, spreading forgiveness.
Carried by unseen winds, even the smallest cry finds her.
She listens the way seashells do—holding whole oceans in silence.
Her compassion moves like dawn through a shuttered room.
Suffering unthreads itself in the in the warmth of her gaze.
She walks the earth barefoot, blessing what she does not name.
Every step plants a seed that remembers how to bloom.
Human hearts steady themselves in her presence.
Through her, the world remembers how to be gentle.
In seventies, bare seventeen you look,
To me, forever in your teen you look.
Just one more year and all ready to wed,
One, ever playing youthful bin, you look.
Wallowing in youthful wealth, scarce without,
Of happiness and content, queen you look.
Secret? Fate nor fortune comes in your way,
Work as worship can be seen in your look.
Sweet touch of breeze, and wetness mischievous,
Life’s golden touchstone, yen and yin you look.
______________________________________
Ghazal | 07.02.2026 | humour, life, wife
Note: Humorous ghazals are often known as Hazal.
To keep one’s better half in good humour is half the battle won, they say. Now at this late age if the rest of it is lost it matters little, I hope.
Long sought-after, cosmic connection -
In your embrace - love.. protection.
* 'A Romantic, passionate, or sad Crystalline Poem' Poetry Contest
* Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
* Entered on: 2/1/2026
Born and bred in the empire
Does it prove that I’m bad
Always fit to what’s required
With my pride down in the gut
I’m deceptively serene
You are falsely agitated
I’m your yang and you’re my yin
We are Chinese belated
From the era of the sari
Beads and flowers in the hair
Our empires need to vary
So you’re gone, but still I care..
Iconically perceived bipolarities,
like receptive nuts round assertive bolts,
are all so orthodoxically well
Yet not nearly as paradoxically swell
as ironically received dipolarities,
like liberated convex pleasure poles
consummating concave passion holes.
He’s got me reeling
All gas and no brakes
I can’t take my eyes off him for my own soul’s sake
My hearts got this ache
My mind’s wide awake
I wanna take a dip inside his eyes of blue lakes
I’m already drowning
But I don’t mind the deep
I wake up in dreamland, he’s there in my sleep
I’m acting so shy
He’s acting so bold
My feelings are hot, his gaze is so cold
The yin to my yang
The venom to my fangs
I thought I could catch up but I guess I can’t hang
I’m caught in the current
I’m lost in the chase
But I’m guided by his aura and the smile on his face
I’d rather be lost
Than find my own way
He’s the fire that freezes, the sweet kind of pain
I’m playing with fire
My heart’s drenched in wine
I’m just hoping one day that his pulse matches mine
When we are dreaming here - we are awake there;
When we are awake here, we are dreaming there...
When we vanish here, we appear there;
When we appear here, we vanish there.
The cycle is balanced, the Yin Yang is fair.
It's all a Mirage.. cant grasp it - thin air.
The only thing real is dreamless deep sleep;
Parcel delivered! - It's yours now to keep.
I wasn't long in Hong Kong,
before I saw my first tai chi,
and it gave me the strangest notion,
the exercisers, advancing all in a row,
were line dancing in slow motion.
They put their left hand in,
right hand out,
in, out, in, out,
waved them all about
and, set to soothing, soulful music,
the male practitioners suggestively sang,
"If you show me your yin,
I'll show you my yang."
Reflecting on times, ones perfectly certain,
Without shadows of doubt on the mind,
As though shining, waiting by black or white curtains,
As though truth were so easy to find,
So clear now it seems, contrary to say,
Such clarity is not in the slightest,
As black, surely, but one dark shade of grey,
And pure white, just another, the lightest.
A tsunami of black ash blankets half a world
Trash toadstool hoodoos, wastelandic pillage
and pollutant mucus ravishes lava villages
Draining is the amalgam mass at the end of the spectrum
Stone environs shock, unnatural landscapes
Polyethylene islands flushing the canvas
Carbon contaminant fumes flair in mid drift air
Virtually no place on Earth is free of the polymer fog
Foaming magma cascades over metallic mushroom roots
Spiny shoots sprout tentacles from rubber trees
Mercury and cadmium toxin leeches' groundwater
Above the quicksand are flying objects that pass as vultures
For a million magarican dollars I was greeted by a masked spacebot
Left on moonlit Luna's Lot are my collection of yin-yang art articles
The yin and yang
Of heavy heart
Orange female tiger
Male azure dragon with spark
Jubilant jaded laugh
Inside jaundice jokes
One can follow one’s path
Face what lies ahead with hope
It cannot be helped
You must weather storm
Life isn’t always fair
Always be in true form
Let go and let God
Grannie sings with faith
Be sure to guard heart
Save for rainy day
Do you learn white wisdom
From elegant emerald elders
Are you led by mission
Experience of life a welder’s
Fire to flaming silver steel
Molding you into amethyst art
However you may fuchsia feel
For growth we need light and dark
Where my yin meets my yang
I hear a dissonant clang
My physician traced it back
all the way to the ‘Big Bang’
Seems I hopped aboard an asteroid
went for a wild ride
Hit my head on a comet
blasphemed, ‘God damn it!’
the silence that listens -
the stillness that anticipates
what is one
becomes the other
Earth spins
from yin to yang
- dark to light
- death to growth
what is one
becomes the other
infinite duality
less than grains of sand
in a mirror that reflects nothing
but a fleeting conscience
- seeds from death
that grow in the light
black is white and...
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