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Dead of Night

by TheHen, 2025

The darkening night,

Sending chills down my spine,

Where is the light?

Along this endless line?

 

Monsters and hollows,

Awaiting around the corner,

Every step could be,

A mistake of never being free.

Creeping,

Weeping,

I cry and walk alone,

In the abyssal air,

In the dead of night.

 

Oh, I’m so afraid,

My mind full of fear,

I hope I survive,

Through the dead of night.

Ominous screaming,

That rips through the setting sky,

 

Who is there?

In the forest of night?

 

The wind howling,

The waves crashing,

The trees falling,

This nightmare,

Forever and ever,

In the dead of night.

 

The atmosphere,

As cold as space,

Though somehow,

I’m still alive in this race.

 

Blinded by the storms,

I see nothing,

Yet everything is in front of me,

But there is no light to guide me.

The stars,

That were there,

Have faded away from the skies above,

Have been there, but nowhere,

Now there is none to follow.

 

The dead of night,

Shadows everywhere,

Death right there,

It may be surging now,

But it will come to an end,

With a message to send.

 

There is silence,

After years of pain,

Of darkness and rain.

The cyclone’s still raging,

But I’ve gone through,

Pushed the waters,

Behind me.

I’m still not free,

With the dead of night,

Right at my heels,

I keep going,

Keep running,

Before I get swallowed,

By the haunting hollows.

 

The dead of night,

Screaming or silent,

Taunting or calming,

It’s how you see,

The night’s key,

To being free,

From the dead of night.

Inner Child

by Makayla Harder, 2025

In shadows deep where whispers lie,
A child within begins to cry.
Her tears are soft, but full of pain,
Like gentle drops in autumn rain.

Her tiny hands, they reach and seek,
For love that feels so far, so weak.
A hollow ache inside her chest,
A silent wound that never rests.

She calls for help, but none will hear,
The cries that linger, raw with fear.
A broken heart, a shattered dream,
She floats alone, a silent scream.

Oh, little one, with eyes so wide,
Whose innocence the world denied,
Please know your tears are not in vain—
You’ll find your voice beyond the pain.

The storm will pass, the sun will rise,
And healing hands will dry your eyes.
The world may hurt, but you are strong,
A child within who’ll carry on.

The Quiet Love

by Anonymous, 2025

Love tiptoes in,

not with thunder, but a hush

a glance held too long,

a breath caught in a rush

 

It speaks in coffee spoons

and tangled bedsheets,

in Sunday silence,

in heartbeats

 

It stumbles sometimes,

awkward, unsure

but lingers like sunlight

on a hardwood floor.

 

It isn’t always fireworks

it’s often just staying.

choosing eachother

without even saying.

The Soul of The Sea

by Anonymous, 2025

The ocean sighs beneath the moon,

its breath a lullaby, soft and soon.

a whisper rolling on the sand,

reaching out with salted hand.

 

It keeps old secrets in its chest,

and rocks the wrecked and lost to rest.

It laughs in storms, it weeps in rain,

a soul of joy, a heart of pain.

 

Not wild, not tame, just ever true,

a mirror deep of me and you.

Peeling Grapes

Anonymous, 2025

Peeling Grapes

In my familiar kitchen, sunlight creeps,

My beautiful mother stands as the microwave beeps.

Paying no mind, her fingers are gentle as whispered grace,

They begin the strenuous task of peeling grapes.

 

No rush in her rhythm, she has no need to race,

Just love for me in this period of time and space.

The fruit beneath, translucent, bare,

Like the silly truths she used to share.

 

She cradles each grape with so much care,

Whilst uncovering each one with a simple tear.

As her practiced hands and patient eyes move,

There’s an urge that I have something to prove.

 

She peels away the bitter skin,

Leaving only the tender inside to give to her kin.

A labor small, unnoticed, sweet,

Leaving me to vow to always keep her on her feet.

 

Each peeled grape is a lullaby,

A mother’s love you can’t outgrow or buy.

Therefore, I will always love and care,

And by that I swear.

I’m My Own Mastermind

by Patricia Nehr, 2025

Each day, I have my own creativity to express

I don’t need to do anything to impress

My own way

Don’t care what I’ll say

I know what I have in mind

The words in use… will they be kind

I’m my own mastermind

Doing my own creativity to unwind

Words often easy to find

Putting doubters in their place

My presence… leaving without trace

I’m using my own words in my own style

Every memory kind or not goes in my memory file

The way I remember events good or bad

I am haunted by recent ones… with triggers leaving me feeling angry and sad

People undermining my intellect are just jealous of me

Their harsh treatment… I’ll never agree

My artful talent… I nearly gave up permanently

The judging of others… how I was set up to fail

How those who continue to be ignorant… past, present and future have a trail

I’m my own mastermind

I have to do poems that won’t come off kind

My anger… unleashing my own beast to say what I want

I’m not afraid… my poetic style I flaunt

I’m my own person… words give me power, strength to                                                               stand my ground

I know karma is her own mastermind… it often goes around

I’m not creatively wound

The look of disgust, words to inspire

My own inner fire

My brain with thoughts, ideas I own where I don’t want to be a bore

When it comes to reinventing who I am, I want to hold onto my inner core

Being told to live my life the way according to the way ignorant people expect me to

The need to be feisty and have courage in taking a stand grew

I know I am smart enough to know what I am doing is true

I’m my own mastermind

Not loving to be put into an ethical bind

Not loving being put between a rock and a hard place

How I should not have to justify myself all the time by                                                                   constantly stating my case

I should not have to save face

My peace and quiet I aim for… just to focus on my                                                                       creativity.

My own mastermind… need to maintain my sanity

I’m my own person, with my own intelligence I keep intact

Doubters who are all about put downs never attract

My values… how I express who I am in a mindful way

Being how I want to tell a story, I have my own artistic say

I am my own mastermind, creativity, self-advocating, my intelligence I outright own

Doubters who get in my way, I don’t even condone

I don’t dare want to be undermined nor overthrown

I’m my own mastermind

I have an ax to grind

When I know someone is shady

I see

Knowing their motives, I know I don’t agree

I know it, but these people who hurt are masters of a                                                                    verbal hit

So, it’s now about having plenty of grit

Reminded I’m being true to myself and that’s true

My poetry is about me, discovering something new

What I am saying and feeling is coming from within

Regardless if it’s to one’s chagrin

Creating poetry is my own personal win

Discovering I can do poetry later in life is pretty cool

My Art

by Patricia Nehr, 2025

I am proud of my art

I do it straight from the heart

From markers to paint

I am clearly not a saint

My art is clearly done by hand

I am not a member of any band

So many colors in my pieces

I can sure use a Dark Chocolate Reese’s.

I also use paint with glitter

It sure does shimmer

Many elements from flowers to stars

I hope one day my art will end up on the planet Mars!

From Primary Colors to Secondary colors in several pieces,

I really need that Dark Chocolate Reese’s!

I have done over 300 designs to date

I’m hoping I won’t have a date with my fate.

I would love to display my art in a gallery one day

But it would be me who decides in my own creative way

I have done so many bookmarks since two thousand nineteen

I love to keep my art nice and clean.

I have done pieces for friends and family

No, I have never drawn the whammy

I try to create fresh new color schemes

I really don’t like being a meme

I find inspiration all around me

No matter where it is, I know what it’ll be

People have often asked me how long it takes me to do each piece

I just know I can’t draw a person or geese

I have done many prototypes with a variety of colorful elements to appease the eye

Hey, at least all my hand drawn art is most definitely not a lie!

Wolf Moon 2025

by Anne Kelly-Edmunds, 2025

Wolf Moon 2025

 

An ivory orb floats

on dusky navy blue.

 

Tangled earthbound branches

stretch skyward

screen some of its shine.

January’s moon continues

to rise uninhibited.

Creates a shimmering

silver path across dark water,

lights the land.

Pageantry Rewritten

by Alexis Ebanks, 2025

Pageants, many believe, are for the vain,

Where beauty is showcased, absent of brain.

Hungry eyes gawk, judging from afar,

“This is unfeministic,” critics say with disregard.

 

Are pageants—outdated, something of the past?

Can we rewrite this narrative—receive acceptance at last?

We take the stage to create impact, our causes unite,

Showcasing advocacy in a brand-new light.

 

In private interviews, we share our voice,

On stage, we compete in talents of our choice.

We demonstrate strength in the fitness phase,

Then step into gowns designed to shock and amaze.

 

Behind the curtains, unseen by eyes,

The bond we form together, as we rise.

Eloquent speeches, these skills we refine,

Presenting confidence and philanthropy, perfectly aligned.

 

We lift each other, regardless of who wins the prize,

For the true win… our strength actualized.

In the spotlight, we break an old-fashioned mold,

A new vision of pageant women, beautiful and bold.