Fourlinegraphia

  A tick, a tock, the clock face bright, A millisecond, a shard of light. So small, so quick, a breath, a sigh, Whole worlds are born before they die. Fate, they say, a winding thread, Spun long ago, where I am led. A path prepared, a marked design, Each step assumed, each loss, each sign. Yet in that tick, that fragile space, A win, a fall, a changed embrace. A word unsaid, a risk once taken, A dream pursued, a hope forsaken. One blink holds pleasure, sharp and sweet, The taste of triumph, heart’s quick beat. The next holds sorrow, heavy, slow, A silent tear no one will know. I paused once, lost before a street, The world unsure beneath my feet. Left promised calm, right hinted pain, Straight ahead-unknown terrain. Had I turned left, I might have won, Applause, a crown, the race outrun. Turned right, perhaps I’d failed outright, A broken dream, a longer night. But straight I went, through chance and rain, Through small defeats, through quiet gain. I met a smile, then loss, then gr...

  The sun feels warmer on my skin, Or so it seems to me, Perhaps I’m learning how to see Life more attentively. I listen to my body now, Its quiet, patient plea, The aches, the pauses, all the signs It shares so honestly. I used to push and force my heart, Demand it just endure, But shouting at a wounded wing Won’t ever make it soar. So now I sit, I breathe, I wait, Like tending fragile ground, I whisper, You are safe with me, And gently clear around. There is still pain from yesterday, A shadow lingering, But pain is not an enemy- It teaches gentler things. I am not broken, I respond The best way that I can, Each breath I take reminds me still My body’s on my side. The scars I once despised and hid I view with softer sight, They mark the wars I lived through once, The proof I chose to fight. Forgiveness falls like quiet rain Upon my tired soul, I grant myself the grace to fail And still remain made whole. I free the past that caused me harm, Not for them-but for me, I loosen chain...

  Another year has spun its thread, A silver arc the daylight led, A quiet turn of earth and sky, With ordinary days gone by. No trumpet sounded time’s advance, Just morning light and evening’s chance, Yet every step, however small, Was warmed by you-I felt it all. Each season paints a different hue, Spring’s soft hope, summer’s deeper blue, Autumn’s gold that learns to fall, And winter’s hush that stills us all. And every one I share with you Becomes more honest, more than true- Richer, deeper, softly spun, Like threads that know where they belong. The laughter shared in careless streams, The quiet mending of our dreams, The tears we dried without a word, The comfort felt, not always heard. Side by side in stillness found, We learned what peace could sound like-sound Of breathing slow, of trust held fast, Of moments made to gently last. No map was drawn for where we went, No great design, no grand intent, Just days that asked we show our face, And love that learned a steady pace. ...

  The world feels heavy, skies turn gray, A chilling wind begins to sway. High above, on broken air, A vulture circles, thin and bare. Its shadow crawls across the land, A silent fear, well-rehearsed and planned. It waits where hope is torn and weak, With hollow eyes and hooked-up beak. It hides in corners, whispers low, Feeds on wounds we dare not show. It clouds our vision, blocks the sun, And tells our hearts the day is done. We try to fight it, claw and bite, With angry words, with all our might. We raise our fists, defend our ground, Yet still it circles, always round. For vultures thrive where pain lies still, Where bitterness has had its fill. They feast on anger, rot, and fear, On all we leave to die right here. But darkness bears a fragile flaw, A truth the vulture cannot gnaw. No raging storm, no brutal cry, Can force that bird away the sky. For vultures scatter, wings unsure, When light appears, steady and pure. A single flame, a gentle gleam, Turns looming death to fadi...

  My heart was born a trembling thing, Soft as breath, too frail to keep. It learned too early how to sing, And even sooner, how to weep. I was told that love is dangerous- A door left open in a storm. What enters warm can leave me thus: Emptied, altered, misshapen, torn. I loved a child, I loved a friend, I loved a soul I could not save. Each time, I knew it could not end Without some grave misstep, some grave wave. I built a wall around my chest, I sealed my heart to spare the pain. I traded passion for a false rest, A careful life with shallow gain. Days filled with tasks, nights empty, neat, No haunting knocks, no desperate call. I swore I’d lost nothing, felt complete, Yet felt the silence eat my all. Inside, my heart grew cold as stone, No wound, no ache, no pulse remains. It does not love, it does not moan, It only counts what love contains. And now I see, too late to turn, The tragedy I’ve made my own: By trying to escape the burn, I’ve lost the only life I’d known. I can c...

  A wild wind-love first named itself to me, A burning bush that would not bow or kneel, An untamed flame that warmed and frightened me, Too bright to hold, too real to not be real. I tried to draw its shape with careful rules, Built walls of promise, locks of  always stay, I held it tight like something taught in schools, Afraid that if I blinked, it’d drift away. But love grew thin beneath my clenched embrace, It bled in silence, dimmed its living spark, A sacred song I smothered in its case, Until the notes fell quiet in the dark. I bound it next with jealousy and fear, Fed it my doubts, my questions, my demand, I whispered truths it never asked to hear, And called control the proof I loved it right. But love grew tired of proving it was mine, It sighed and waned beneath my constant need, And every chain I swore would make it fine Curled back around my own confined heartbeat. I chased its meaning, chased its hidden core, Believed if I could name it, it would stay, I begged ...

  The world saw shadows, whispers took their flight, Said she was too bright, too wild for their sight. They measured her soul by a narrow design, Feared the strength of a truth they could never define. But I saw a fire, a brave, burning grace, A storm made of courage, light carved in her face. Where others saw chaos, I saw standing tall, A heart that knew honor, a will that won’t fall. Her truth was a beacon, honest and bold, Not shaped for approval, not bought or sold. A poem  in sincerity, written in flame, Unashamed of its power, unbowed by their blame. And oh, her respect, a promise she keeps, A vow in her waking, a law in her sleep. She stood proud and steady when duty would call, Not shrinking from weight, but embracing it all. Let the doubters keep murmuring, casting their shade, Let them clutch at their fears, let their rumors be made. My belief in her beauty will never grow thin, It deepens with knowing, it strengthens within. For in her I see what is worthy and real...