At dawn, the world awakens slowly,
The cyclist readies, quiet, slowly.
Two wheels, a path, a single choice,
To push beyond the limits’ voice.
The road ascends, each mile a test,
His heart pounds it won't ever rest
With every breath, a struggle flows,
A challenge met as the climb grows.
His journey begins with the morning’s glow,
Through whispering hills where the wildflowers grow.
He rides all day through fields, vast and wide,
With nature his compass and his heart his guide.
The force within, relentless and strong,
Carries him through the hours long.
As shadows stretch and light is leaving,
His journey concludes in the dark late evening.
|His journey starts in the morning
|He rides all day over hills and through fields
|The force that drives him never yields
|His trip end in the dark late evening
The journey’s weight is more than strain,
For he has learned to channel pain.
May 21
May 21, 2026 at 12:29 PM UTC
In a dusty shop on a cobbled street,
A guitar lay silent, its tale bittersweet.
Strings frayed, its wooden heart scarred,
Once the muse of a wandering bard.
The bard had roamed from town to town,
Through sunlit trails and skies that frown.
With every chord, the world would pause,
He played for joy, a noble cause.
He played in taverns with creaking floors,
In markets too with slamming doors.
He’d miss a note, then play it twice,
And claim the “echo” made it nice.
He’d drop his pick in mugs of ale,
Get chased by ducks along his trail.
Forget the words of half his songs,
Then hum and hope no one caught on.
He once performed atop a crate,
That snapped beneath him (not so great).
He stood back up, adjusted clothes,
Brushed off dust and struck a pose.
Crowds adored these earnest tries,
His crooked grin and his hopeful eyes.
He lived a life off and far,
Dragging along his old guitar.
But seasons change and stories fade
The Bard grew old, less parade.
One day he simply wandered on
And by the next, the guitar was gone.
Now in the shop, beneath the grime,
It waits, unplayed, worn by time.
It’s glory days stand afar,
It sits there now, a lost guitar.
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 7:08 PM UTC
Not enough to shine in the glow of day,
To be heard, to be seen, to matter, to stay.
In mirrors that mock with their fractured design,
An image of worth, too fragile, too fine.
Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 7:19 PM UTC
Why are you the most loyal of all,
Yet no one is there when you stumble and fall?
Why do you fight for the ones you hold dear,
When they vanish the moment your battles appear?
Why do nights stretch with thoughts unkind,
Replaying words, rewinding time?
Why did you build that unyielding wall,
Is it safer to stand where no one can call?
Why does fragility feel like a curse,
As if opening up might make things worse?
Why do you wear a mask to survive,
Holding the ache that keeps you alive?
Why do you ask, when you already know?
Because the questions are easier than letting go.
Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 7:18 PM UTC
What is the weight of wandering thought,
That drifts in silence, untethered, unsought?
Is it heavy with dreams or feathered with doubt,
Does it whisper within or cry to break out?
Why do tears fall when no one is near,
Are we longing for comfort or fleeing from fear?
Why does a smile often feel wrong,
Are we hiding a wound or barely holding on.
Why does silence scream louder than words,
Is its echo sharper than the wings of birds?
Why do memories linger like ghosts in the air,
Do they haunt to remind, or show that we care?
Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 7:18 PM UTC
Tumbled smooth by time and tide,
A pebble starts its humble ride.
Born from a mountain, proud and tall,
It’s carried down by nature’s call.
Rivers twist and and rivers turn,
Its edges, sharp, begin to burn.
Rocks collide, a softened gleam,
Chased by currents in a stream.
The ocean calls, its waves embrace,
And the pebble finds its resting place.
Amid the sands it sits there new,
Its story is told in every hue.
Now hands reach down, a child’s delight,
To skip this stone, day or night.
It flies in arcs, and skims the waves,
A fleeting dance the water saves.
Collected then by a curious mind,
A pebble’s purpose is intertwined.
Thrown again, or kept with care,
Its journey could span anywhere.
Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 7:17 PM UTC
Thank you for the morning at state, a great thought:
That talk, the drawing, and the comfort you brought.
Thank you for the warming huddle in the rain,
It helped all my shivers refrain.
Offering your hoodie when you were cold too,
The listening to music on the bus, just me and you.
Thank you for the fun practices we’ve had,
The rock fights which always made me glad,
In the school, stealing my hat to hide,
A story I’ll always keep inside,
And the day you ran with me,
A memory I’ll look back to see.
Thank you for your stories, the moments you share,
For waiting, for patience, for showing you care.
Thank you for helping me open up and trust,
For being you, for honesty, and searching for what is just.
Thank you for caring, for always being there,
For the growing friendship, a bond that won’t tear
Thank you for teaching me music, for the laughter,
The good times, and the start of a new chapter.
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 10:51 AM UTC
Beneath the burn of a blood-red sky,
The prairie whispers, the coyotes cry.
The tumbleweeds roll, the air grows tight,
Trouble stirs at the edge of the night.
The sun dips low, a fiery blaze,
Casting shadows through the dusky haze.
A lone rider stands with a steel-eyed stare,
Facing the horizon with a rebel’s dare.
Bootheels clink on the desert floor,
The rustle of dust, the creak of a door.
The saloon hum quiets, the cards now still,
As whispers speak of a brewing thrill.
Beyond the ridge, where the mountains loom,
A tempest brews, a frontier’s doom.
But the grit of the West won’t bow or flee,
For the spirit of courage rides wild and free.
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 10:49 AM UTC
She walks through shadows, the sun won't shine,
Her tears like rivers, tracing every line.
A heart that's pierced, through love and pain,
She stands alone, in the pouring rain.
A fragile smile, like shattered glass,
Clings to memories that will not pass.
The echoes whisper of what was near,
Yet all she feels is the weight of her fear.
But hope flickers in her weary eyes,
A spark refusing to compromise.
Though broken wings might never fly,
She’ll rise again, under the same sky.
Through shadows and storms, she charts her way,
Each step a promise of brighter days.
A girl lost in emotion, learns to stand,
Piecing a puzzle with her trembling hands.
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 10:48 AM UTC
Tick tock, the clock runs wild,
It’s hands unyielding, never mild.
Moments slip through cracks unseen,
Life’s tapestry, stitched between.
Tick Tock, the echoes play,
Stealing time, night and day.
Fleeting whispers, transient glances,
Dreams built upon fragile chances.
Tick tock, a heartbeat fades,
Golden hues to twilight shades.
Hold on tight, from then to here,
For time’s a thief, both cruel and clear.
Tick Tock, the story spins,
Losing, gaining, till it ends.
Yet in its rhythm chaos stirs,
Tick Tock: time is yours.
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 10:48 AM UTC