Dewfresh Morn (Other Poetry Form)
Damp sound of squelching grass
beneath my feet
ushers bright dew soaked morn
on wild green plot
of tangled twigs, stalks, leafs
where young lambs bleat
they frolic, gambol, play
in blue dawn trot
When The Stars Forget To Speak
The night is dark and full of terrors—
But who am I to judge?
Tales of old,
Long left untold,
Now seek us through the hush.
Who will tell them—me or you?
Some were fair, and some were not.
Some have ended,
Most are lost.
But still, some wander,
Gleaming like a gem—
One for you,
And one for me...
Will I ever truly know thee?
So here I sit and listen,
Will there ever truly stay?
The night is dark and full of terrors—
But I am not afraid.
To watch the stars without a moon
Is like living...
Living without you.
When The Stars Forget To Speak
The night is dark and full of terrors—
But who am I to judge?
Tales of old,
Long left untold,
Now seek us through the hush.
Who will tell them—me or you?
Some were fair, and some were not.
Some have ended,
Most are lost.
But still, some wander,
Gleaming like a gem—
One for you,
And one for me...
Will I ever truly know thee?
So here I sit and listen,
Will there ever truly stay?
The night is dark and full of terrors—
But I am not afraid.
To watch the stars without a moon
Is like living...
From Deep Within (Haiku Form)
Whilst delving into
majestic notions profound
I discover truth
majestic notions profound
I discover truth
From The Earth (Mononku Form)
Compost layer genus code, emulsions where thorny, splatters sprout up
The Hallways Still Echo
It’s been two years,
but still, the hallways call.
Not just halls, portals,
where I first learned to stumble
before learning to stand tall.
I miss the clang of locker doors,
the wild stampede at the lunch bell’s cry,
the way dismissal tasted like freedom,
bittersweet, fleeting,
a sky unstitched with every goodbye.
We ran—God, we ran,
like wind without reason,
brushing past rules like dust
off the edge of a better season.
Teachers raged, their patience thin,
we were chaos.
Those We Love
Those we love do not go away;
They stay beside us every day.
They’re with us in the morning light,
And sit with us in the twilight.
Sometimes they come to our room;
It’s believed they ward off approaching gloom.
We can feel their presence near,
And wonder at its mystique, without fear.
Those we love can be our inspiration,
The foundation of our creation.
We know that one day they’ll be gone,
And we’ll see life through the eyes of another dawn.
We write odes to preserve cherished memories;
Bit by bit, they become stories.
I Lost, But I Didn’t Lose Myself
I remember the votes...
How the digits danced like dreams I couldn’t hold.
How my name echoed through group chats — like a mission,
a movement…
Until it didn't mean much anymore.
And suddenly, the dark silence began.
They said I lost.
Like my art was a receipt,
and worth was bought with transfers.
With funds!
They didn’t know,
that piece came from the deepest place.
From scars I never posted.
From prayers whispered on car rides.
From a fire I lit,
just to find warmth in this cold world.
And when I didn’t win,
they said, “It’s okay.”
But deep down, it didn’t feel okay.
People’s voices blam
Nurture And Nourish (Haiku Poem)
Clay born matrices,
our natural breeds now wet,
nurse turf ground offspring
Aren’t I Lucky (Lyric Poem)
Fortunate enough to wake up in the morning,
fortunate enough to be greeted by sunshine,
fortunate enough to hear the sounds of nature,
fortunate enough to feel the pulse of town and city,
fortunate enough to absorb vintage street verve,
fortunate enough to accept fondness and intimacy,
fortunate enough to feel elation and blissful life,
fortunate enough to possess true depth of feeling,
fortunate enough to weep, laugh, to be enchanted,
fortunate enough to connect and engage widely,
fortunate enough to exist in awe and remain there