PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Even though the road was rough with thorn and cry,

And nights fell heavy on your weathered brow.

Still, morning leaned its gold against the sky,

And dared you to begin again somehow.

The storms have carved their truth upon your skin,

With winds that sang of loss, and rains that stung.

Yet in their rage, they taught the strength within,

The song you’d never known your soul had sung.

But oh, remember, not just dark and gale,

Not just the hollow ache of trials passed.

There were sunrises soft and sunsets pale,

That held you close when nothing else could last.

A hush of fire upon the waking hill,

A lavender goodbye across the sea.

These moments, small and luminous and still,

Were love’s own way of setting your heart free.

So walk, dear soul, through shadow and through light,

And let each dawn restore what storms have worn.

For even sorrow, tempered by the night,

Must kneel in grace when golden day is born.

Live life unfettered 

Lasso the Morose 

Seek not only the sullen

For there, a lily can never grow

Darkness and Light, the circle of life

Always cherish the beauty 

that blazes through the night

Be a seeker of knowledge

Whilst traveling through the sands of time

Your brilliance beckons 

Those who wish to shine

May your viridescent dancing orbs

Never dwell too long in desolation 

Let Lunar dreams harvest your divine energy

And soak into the roots of your soul 

Standing at the threshold: two voices, one crossing — which will you hear first? Placeholder image by Midjourney v7.

Thresholds - Two voices one crossing

Voice of Surrender

The night presses in, heavy as regret,

Shadows coil, whispering, “Let go.”

I count the names I cannot save,

Each memory a stone in my pocket.

My beasts curl, sensing the end,

I leave instructions, trembling,

for a world that will not remember.

The streets wait, cold and unyielding,

I have no more shelter to give.

I write my name as a closing,

My ink a river running dry.

I slip into hush, a final release,

A whisper lost in the dark.

Voice of Resolve

The night presses in, but I strike a match,

Shadows coil, whispering, “Hold on.”

I count the names I carry forward,

Each memory a lantern in my hand.

My beasts curl, waiting for dawn,

I leave instructions, trembling,

for a world that may yet remember.

The streets wait, cold but unbroken,

I have more shelter to find.

I write my name as a beginning,

My ink a river rising strong.

I step into hush, a gathering breath,

A whisper forging the dawn.

In sacred geometry, a shape takes flight;

Three points converge, a trinity divine;
Golden ratios whisper, ancient and bright;
A symbol of harmony, a cosmic sign.


Three points converge, a trinity divine;
Angles align, a dance of precision;
A symbol of harmony, a cosmic sign;
In the heart of the universe, a hidden vision.


Angles align, a dance of precision;
Shadows and light paint a mystical seal;
In the heart of the universe, a hidden vision;
Mysteries of creation, silently revealed.


Shadows and light paint a mystical seal;
Golden ratios whisper, ancient and bright;
Mysteries of creation, silently revealed;
In sacred geometry, a shape takes flight.

Πρῶτον μὴ βλάπτειν, a principle misunderstood,

Not black and white, but shades of good.

Where healing's art meets science's light,

And ethical minds must choose what's right.

The caduceus gleams, a symbol misconstrued,

Where commerce and care are often viewed.

But Asclepius' staff, with single snake entwined,

Represents true healing, carefully refined.

In modern halls where choices weigh,

Doctors and patients find their way.

Through risks and benefits, they navigate,

Shared understanding they cultivate.

Some peddle cures with hollow claims,

Exploiting fears for selfish aims.

But true healers, with knowledge sound,

On evidence their practice ground.

"Primum nil nocere," a guide, not chain,

Encouraging thought in health's domain.

Balance sought 'twixt act and pause,

For healing's not without its flaws.

In research labs and by bedsides too,

Ethical minds seek what is true.

Through trials tested, their wisdom grows,

A beacon bright as knowledge flows.

ὀφελέειν ἢ μὴ βλάπτειν, the call remains,

For those who heal, not those who feign.

In partnership with those they treat,

They strive to make care more complete.