If—
it is in the sky that water flies so high
and it is in her belly that fire has its eyrie,
why fear the rumble and cower and crumble;
why not sound your melody over the rackety canopy?

If—
it is the wiggle of a worm that serves a cocoon its term
and it is in that silken tomb you morph in a milken womb,
why fear your razzle and not dare to dazzle;
why forget the say that all is only for a day?

If—
it is, at start, a toothless prerogative into a nightly narrative
down a dead alley with, again, a lisping finale,
why fear the fights and bow before the bites;
why parade the rites and speak in soundless 'cites'?

If—
it is the round bellied Earth that fails to fill your vision’s berth,
but it is the hollow, horned moon that has your soul swoon,
why bow before a bright badge, burning a forest for a hedge;
why curl into a shapeless dot and live on an elliptical, hapless note?

If—
it is in this peripheral parody you keep cawing in chronical comedy
with a raucous vapid voice and black wings of no choice,
why not write your script and have your earthbound wings ripped;
why not fledge your colored rhapsody hence this colorless custody?

© Hirondelle, August 04, 2025
    Arif Hifzioglu

Many would say that AI wrote my poems,they generally would like to pore hate into my soul.

From where I stand,the rocks pass right through, the holes placed there by others, they can't touch me, they are old, never, new.

In deed, I ask Gemini, for assistance to spell, grammar has never been my strong point, nor sharing my poems to the public, to be embarrassed as hell.

If you're looking for someone to criticize, make them look bad. Please allow me to offer myself, to give everyone else a brake, instead.

The words you speak have no effect on me, except to continue writing, placing my poems on "Hello Poetry"  ©

Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE"

You asked me then
what I was waiting for
the truth is
I wasn't  sure

I was looking at the sea
from the shore
totally absorbed
an experience I never had before

such moments are rare
beyond what the mind can explore
the Zen of being in silence
with such mystery in store

and now I've grown
gray and old-- on the same shore
that past moment I can't re-capture
vanished is that wondrous sense of awe.

As daylight fades and the night takes command,
Around your heart hopelessness wraps its hand;
But I'll kiss away each tear that you cry
And ease your  heartache with my lullaby

I sense your unrest, your utter defeat,
But foes have been vanquished --- they're in retreat;
And on wings of Love your sorrows will fly
As I hold you close, singing my lullaby

The love I offer will surge through your heart,
And like startled birds all woes will depart;
But now slumber calls -- the sun waved goodbye;
Be still, close your eyes . . . hear my lullaby

No heavenly choir could mimic this art
Of poetic fealty sung by my heart;
When I hear your call, you know I'll reply --
Bringing love and my healing lullaby

And with each new dawn, hope will be reborn,
For Love conquers all, though your heart be torn;
Some days may still bring a tear and a sigh
But love will prevail . . . . love, and my lullaby!

"Hey, God, why has my life been such a disaster?"

"Are you judging it by your failures or your achievements?"