In the chatter of magpies, beneath the sky so blue,
Nishu's words dance, and the world feels new.
"In the afternoon, below a grey blue sky" —
Her poetry, a song, as the moments fly.

"I hear the chatter of the magpies," she writes,
A symphony of joy, a vision in the lights.
We, too, find solace in those quiet calls,
Where nature whispers, and the soul enthralls.

Your “Collectibles,” a treasure chest deep and true,
Each line a memory, a fragment of you.
"Some may call it clutter, junk," they say,
But your words are more—the treasures we display.

"Welcome Solitude," a gentle space,
Where poetry breathes, with its calm embrace.
Like your lines, Nishu, we, too, find peace,
In the rhythm of life, where the soul’s release.

"In every flower, there is a poem," you write,
And in your work, a garden blooming bright.
Your words, like petals, unfold with grace,
And in your verses, we find our place.

Nishu, your poetry is the light of the day,
A guide through the hours, a warm ray.
Thank you for your words, your art so fine,
For showing us beauty through your poetic line.

Rick, your words do not just linger,
they carve themselves in time—
etched in truth, raw and bitter,
yet softened by a poet’s rhyme.

"I lie
and
I lie
and
I lie"

You write not just of deception,
but the weight of silence, the cost of peace,
where love is masked in quiet restraint,
and truth must wait for its release.

"but when the truth
arrives at that
final moment;
jaws will drop
plates will shatter
dogs will growl"

Oh, how your verses strike like thunder,
unafraid of the coming storm.
For in the wreckage of unspoken words,
your poetry dares to take its form.

"stepfather
all that pain
and belittlement
you served me
day and night"

Yet you stand unchained, unshaken,
forgiveness rising where anger fell.
Not just a poet, but a soul unbroken,
turning torment into a tale to tell.

"but now you
stand before me
weeping
with no teeth
and the big man
within me
has forgiven you."

What strength, what grace, what mastery—
not in vengeance, but release.
A heart that bleeds yet still forgives,
finding power in its peace.

Rick, your ink is fire, your words are steel,
unwavering, untamed, yet so real.
A poet who walks the edge of pain,
and turns it into art again.

May your lines be read, your truth be known,
for voices like yours must never go unsown.

You sculpt time with syllables bright,
turning old instants into light.

In monostich breaths, seeds are sown,
a thought takes root, a truth is known.

A poet who sees in shadowed lines,
the golden cracks where meaning shines.

Your words, like stars, in silence gleam,
pulling wisdom from the dream.

Gnōthi seautón—each phrase unfolds,
a mind that dares, a hand that holds.

Not just letters, nor rhymed disguise,
but breath that whispers, “Know, arise.”


"Step outside the fire circle,
be swallowed by the night,
step farther into the night,
be swallowed by the stars."

Not all are brave enough to wander,
to step beyond where embers flicker.
Yet you, a poet, walk in wonder,
with verses bright and steps that shimmer.

"Old instants made unforgettable"

You carve the past in fleeting light,
etching echoes on the air,
binding time in words so slight,
yet they remain, still standing there.

"The woe is not mine, I'm fine."

Not all who bleed wear open scars,
some heal through ink and quiet sighs.
A poet’s strength is held in stars,
in silent truths behind their eyes.

"Gnōthi Seautón (Γνωθι Σαυτόν)"
"Know thyself—step beyond the fire."

Knowing oneself is a river untamed,
not a mirror, but an endless sea.
You write of depth no chains have claimed,
of thought’s wild winds, of minds set free.

"Seed time harvest eat think form"

Each thought a seed, each line a field,
harvested in minds unknown.
You plant in silence, yet they yield
gardens where lost souls have grown.

"The choice decides Earth’s destiny."

Do we seek love or seek control?
Do we embrace or fight the tide?
You weave these truths through poet’s scroll,
where questions walk, where doubts confide.

Ah, @cassian, the soul who sees the spark,  
In words I’ve written, in shadows so dark.  
Not just a follower, but a kindred flame,  
Resharing my heart, no need for fame.  

You took my thoughts and made them your own,  
Like whispers that travel when seeds are sown.  
A spark in the dark, a light in the night,  
You’ve found meaning where others might fight.  

So here’s to you, for seeing what’s true,  
For sharing the words, for making them new.  
May your own journey be filled with light,  
For you’ve made mine a little more bright.