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Rowena Velasco Poem
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 14 Contest // Sponsored by: Mark Toney
( 1st Place )
Written: September 04, 2025
They said the songbird
her wings twisted and torn
should quiet herself...
that the sky held no place
for the fragile or the worn.
Yet she kept a sky tucked inside her - a
place untouched by any hand.
At daylight she let her voice rise
and though her body stayed earthbound,
her song lifted past the edge of flight.
The wind slowed to listen,
branches bent nearer
and the horizon seemed to pause,
stirred by her willfulness .
Each note unlaced an old wound,
each chorus pushed against the walls
of a world that once turned her away.
Her feathers never mended,
yet her dream grew wide enough
to shelter every broken one who followed.
From her we understood:
reaching the sky
was never about wings at all.
Copyright © Rowena Velasco | Year Posted 2025
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Rowena Velasco Poem
Your gaze speaks softly,
I love you without a sound,
heartbeats seal the vow.
Copyright © Rowena Velasco | Year Posted 2015
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Rowena Velasco Poem
Good Sense Of Humour Blunts The Sharp Blades Of Reality Poetry
Contest //Sponsored by: Natasha L. Scragg
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 5, 2025
When life threw me a curveball,
I stumbled—then chuckled mid-fall.
Lumped knees, not pride, I wore like bent,
because sneering is something I've seen.
In chemo rooms and vestibules,
I frenzied dry jokes on aseptic walls.
Doctors simpered, nurses would beam—
a punch-line where the fear had been.
When agony thumped hard and sleep grew thin,
I let the silly light writhe in.
A meme, a whirl , a silly song—
made aching days feel less so long.
No, humour incurable or patch,
But it's the ally, not made to part.
It doesn't silence, hurt or truth,
but let me smirk with my aching tooth.
So here's my laugh, though life gushes beneath,
it's how I rise, not how I lament!
Copyright © Rowena Velasco | Year Posted 2025
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Rowena Velasco Poem
My chest keeps echoes no one hears,
what once was warm now sweeps as mist,
a weight unseen, too dense to lift.
Each crack leaves marks that melts
yet roots begin to breathe beneath the soil.
But where you bore, now empty lies,
a soul planted thin beneath the skies.
At early bright, I wear a stranger's smile.
At night, I drifts a lonely mile.
The roses died but the thorns still remain...
and the joy slipped out without a name.
I feel the yank to sink beneath,
to whisper words, my mouth won't speak.
My voice is dust, it melts to stone,
a quiet scream that dies alone.
You glimmer faint in twilight's haze,
a scar that kept from golden days.
I dream of us the way we were,
before the quiet did arise.
One truth remains through changing skies;
a trace of you that never dies.
No blade and no bleak could cut apart
the quiet thread that ties my heart.
Am I unmade or only veiled?
A gentle quiet where the glow feels lost,
no flare ignites and no I'll will takes carry.
Only a calm that meanders through the horizons.
Now rest plunges as starlight falls
a tender serene that softens all.
The spirit arise.
The tonnage gone.
The years melt their grip restrained.
The years vanish and the pain is gone
but something brighter lingers on.
In endless night,
the spirit glows-
a long life ends yet deeper grows.
Copyright © Rowena Velasco | Year Posted 2015
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Rowena Velasco Poem
Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder Poetry Contest //Sponsored by: Crystol Woods
( 1st Place )
Written: August 07, 2025
They say stillness is absence, an empty space between worth noting,
but I have heard its melodies in the pre-dawn chapel where stillness reigned
and still the walls exhaled calm.
I have found stillness and not loneliness---
but in two hands clutching without speaking,
the heart knowing inside out
language would only raze.
Silence is like sunlight before it shines,
the tranquility after I sleep and
the reluctance before "I forgive you",
It grips what chaos cannot express--admiration, agony, dread.
Even when grieving and when at a loss for words,
calmness is at hand and says it all.
So let the world fill with echoes.
With clamor and vivid proclamations.
I will still turn up beauty.
In the lull between storms,
In the hush between instinct and doubt
In the sacred calmness, that hark,
Not to respond, but to understand.
Copyright © Rowena Velasco | Year Posted 2025
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Rowena Velasco Poem
The glass once lucid
now deflects glow differently.
A chuckle clenched in the wind,
blanching and flaming.
Where were we?
Footprints echo, retreat, advance
sagging floor, missing nails.
Not long enough--
like a wheeze folding in and out,
a beam of light held in a still moment.
Sagging floor, nails missing,
steps forth, then retreat.
Where were we,
blanching and flaming,
a chuckle loosed in the wind—
now the glass, no longer lucid,
deflects the glow differently.
Copyright © Rowena Velasco | Year Posted 2025
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Rowena Velasco Poem
Fading gentle touch,
Echoes drift like autumn leaves—
Sweetness slips away.
Copyright © Rowena Velasco | Year Posted 2025
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Rowena Velasco Poem
I have known the hollow silence of empty hands,
once full of gold, now dust and fading strands.
I gave my heart in seasons bright and fair,
helping those in need, with love laid bare.
But when the coins ran out, the doors grew cold,
no pennies left to buy a dream or hold.
Help came shackled, wrapped in debt’s tight chain,
not just my money lost, but name and pain.
Hungry mouths like lightning split the sky,
casting shadows, where whispered rumors lie.
Their words—like thunder—crash without a sound,
shaking the fragile ground where hope is found.
Silent storms descend, louder than a scream,
devouring truth, unraveling the dream.
Penniless and weary, hunger gnaws more deep—
not just for bread, but respect we keep.
They drag me into fire’s scorching pit,
complicating all, refusing to quit.
Mockery’s cold rain falls without remorse,
lies like chains that bind with crushing force.
A world unfair, where power’s voice is bought,
where kindness falters, and freedom’s lost.
But in the ruins, a spark still burns bright—
the power of kindness, a guiding light.
Though empty now, my spirit sings clear,
pure as a river that knows no fear.
On paths ahead, I seek that gentle grace,
where smiles bloom soft in a warm embrace.
Copyright © Rowena Velasco | Year Posted 2025
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Rowena Velasco Poem
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 7 Poetry Contest// Sponsored by: Mark Toney
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 10 , 2025
The morning fog low over the empty streets,
soft as a whispered promise.
My shoes slapped the pavement in steady rhythm--
each step a heartbeat counting the miles.
I had yet to run—and those I’d left behind.
Streetlamps stretched shadows across brick walls.
Long, crooked shapes that seemed to shiver.
A dog barked somewhere—
sharp, sudden—
and I remembered even echoes can run far.
I passed the river, silver in the first light,
leaves drifting like tiny paper boats
carrying laughter from summers I can’t hold anymore.
Each puddle mirrored my worn determination,
the uneven steps of a life I’m still figuring out.
At Mile Seven, my legs shake like a leaf
but my brain knocked around a long way—
to faces I love, faces I’ve lost,
half-light I trailed too heavily,
mornings I never perceived.
My hair was windblown.
Mixed with the scent of rain and earth
and the faint hope that keeps moving me further.
I ran—not for medals, not for applause,
but because every stride stitched the fragments
of life into something that felt whole.
When the horizon caught the light--
it wasn’t a line at all.
It was the journey itself—
miles abaft me, ingrained memories,
and the quiet truth.
I ran just find myself
and somehow--I did!
Copyright © Rowena Velasco | Year Posted 2025
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Rowena Velasco Poem
they slither down the long halls
coiling thoughts like vine-sharp calls
calm defies
walls lean in with breathing cracks
truth waits, but never walks back
you flicker—don’t ask why
their whispers rise like flood and tide
but roots hold beneath the lie
you break—and light slips quietly by
Copyright © Rowena Velasco | Year Posted 2025
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