All white, like the two walls of my room
A glass bottle sitting on it, same shade as the other two
A switchboard beside, with the router plugged in
Only had the ceiling lights --- brightness is quite dim
Four rows of a vertical shelf and a dressing mirror
But the two wooden shelves on it, is what I actually admire
A wooden bed frame, the door and a window
Yet something about the whiteboard made my brain follow
The humid air turned the room musty
Yet the worktop wasn't at all dusty
But oh ! I reached for the two shelves, and the dust had piled
Then I realised that the cupboard roof also needs dusting once in a while
The adapter plugged into the switchboard, also needs to be wiped off sometimes
I love my workspace but it shouldn't be where I'm confined
The Twilight Zone is my home
A place where liars and thieves roam
It has been for 11 years
Nothing but my tears
My husband is all good with his brother a liar and thief
And for me there is no relief
Until this year the Twilight Zone I will leave
And leave my husband the only one to grieve
For his brother is the one that made the Twilight Zone
Never again will I roam
Far far away I will be
And let my husband enjoy the Twilight Zone
"Here is rest; and privacy.
Floaty, straw-like grassed.
What hangs is, boughed and buzzed
Unearthly, of
Earth's own bloomed love".
Up on these warm currents of
Passionate longing
Retrace, in what are thought-steps
Dreaming, for her's
A daydreamer's.
A door slides open~
not with sound,
but with a feeling,
as if the air itself has stepped aside.
Shadows lengthen into questions,
and the ordinary
tilts just enough
to make the mind lean closer.
Here, clocks forget their manners,
logic loosens its collar,
and a single choice can echo sideways
into a world almost like ours~
but not quite.
Somewhere, a narrator watches,
half-smile, half-warning,
inviting me to cross the line
between what was and what is.
And for a moment,
I stand in that thin, electric hush~
the place where the present wavers,
and the past asks,
What is a remote?
mass insomnia,
sirens sound, missiles explode...
the city cannot sleep
Once I found
A danger zone
Willingly entered
Just me, alone
The tape it fluttered
Red and white
Read danger danger
A perfect sight
I needed this,
This place I found
With moss and glass
On broken ground
Trails left
I followed on
Amongst the needles
Stepped upon
I had to be there
The place I found
As I was broken
On broken ground
Something stirred
Within my bones
And there it started
My danger zone
The tape is red and white
Beckons rather than waves
You decided ten minutes ago
Before you'd even thought
This was always the way
So in you go
Beyond chain link
And glass
Crunching
Satisfying
Moss
Criss-crossing the concrete
The building doesn't threaten nor loom
It's morning
You have places to go
But this is the first stop
Wastrels of glass and metal
Plastic containers
I read their labels
And fall into a story
That isn't yet mine
But will be
This is the underworld
The risks are here amongst the weeds
The dead windows
I wade into these beautiful remnants
Of lost people
And wish I was one
Hospital's structure turned into dust,
Cracks, blood, chaos, memory's rust.
Children, parents, elderly helpless,
Patients gone and breathless.
Bomb blast consumed everything in its path,
The patients and doctors dead by world - wrecking wrath.
Tears that turned into ash, fire and blood,
No fire could be extinguished by a flood.
Bombs came in one after another,
No one had something to shield or cover.
Blood spills, eyes closing, tears from families,
Too many innocents turned casualties.
"No Fire Zone", papers stated,
Lives of tamils were bound to be fated.
Search of family members through smoke and tears,
This memory will never be forgotten for years.
A memory that hits us hard and unforgotten,
Families of the casualties had fears begotten.
2nd of May did not fade within time,
The bell cries as it does its last chime.
Poem Date: February 7, 2026
Contest Title: Pick-A-Title, Vol 55
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Danger Zone, The first time I saw blood on pavement, I was eight, and I did not run. I had already learned how danger sounds before it shows its face. Where I grew up, night carried warnings, and the air knew when to hold its breath. Streets remembered what happened on them, and so did we.We played anyway, running through dirt that had witnessed grief, laughing between alarms, coloring over cracks left behind. Childhood lived close to loss, close enough to feel its heat. They called us grown because our eyes learned to watch early, because we knew when to duck before we knew why. This was our baptism, not in water but in knowing. The danger zone had no borders, only lessons. And still, something in us rose, learning how to stand, how to stay soft, how to survive without disappearing.
She gets in the zone.
Brushes in hand she becomes a magician.
Conjuring her own fantasy world.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Sesame Street has gone rogue.
Surly nasty nightmares stir into my darkness.
Sleep will not come easy.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
O zenith, at the apex.
What lives within thy zone?
Zodiac, thy spell is hex!
Zero at the Bone!
Narrow fellow? Let's be mellow.
Mine and thine machine.
No use saying sweet hello?
Yellow, mix with green.
O anaconda empire!
In swampland, what to dread?
Circumstances! Guns for hire!
Butter without bread!
Flame immortal, writhe within!
Blanch my dreams, O Sin!
Deadly venom, scour my skin!
Vicious fight to win!
Lord of greatest house, titmouse?
Ran right up her blouse?
O for those who gasoline douse!
Sycophant and souse!
Young sir, who ought we deter?
Real world, fade to blur.
Mongrel, pedigrees. O cur:
Life goes in a whir.
Hummingbird, wings. O hornet, stings.
Sorcerer, thy rings.
Never mind nefarious things?
Nature's ding-a-lings.
Proofs for equations, elk? Eel?
Antelope, hope. Seal:
What to buy and what to steal?
Gods of death, thy deal...
A Mississippi River boat,
where bygone generations float,
is the only place in books and dreams
where I can talk to that man, it seems.
Searching eyes peer fore and aft
from a steamboat or a raft.
As underneath the fog I drift,
distant voices give me a lift -
an escaped slave tethered by reality's chain
I'll never see my dad again.
Free the press..The only phrase i guess?
Kit Klarenberg such a danger?
(Can the truth!)
the duress.'
U-nkind
K-ontrol
Devouring whole..Misinfo minions so much
Is stole.' Self-improvement chance to grow
Drainstream media, and a governance cold
Catch the narratives, its how they roll
Deep in excrement, filth and spew
I give you current, western
Democracy and such a
Darkness how could
This become
True.?
Tiptoeing
on a ledge,
ultra fast.
Silent soft
cat burglar,
itchy grin.
Fingertips
lose their grip,
no fly zone.
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