The Guardian by Shelby Burgus

You could search your whole life long and never find a heart as pure as yours. You could travel to the ends of the earth, in this dimension and the next, and never find a soul more beautiful. There are no words to express how truly amazing you are. Every day is a battle, a battle you take on without so much as a grimace. Your strength knows no limits and your courage is never-ending. Not many people would give up their hopes and dreams in order to give another a chance at living out theirs, but you did it as if there were no other options. Remove your disguise and unfurl your wings. Let your soul shine forth. Show the world what you truly are: an angel, my guardian angel. I love you, Daddy.

Unicorn by Stefon Brown

My eyes locked on by her breathtaking
Smile as she gracefully approached
Cherry rushed to my nostrils and sent
A spark through my veins, fueling my heart
Cupid’s arrow had barely grazed my ass,
But its mysterious fuzzy symptoms were in full effect
Fluttering every single hair on my arms
Cupid then winked his left eye and vanished.
As did she,
Like the perfect Unicorn.

Mercy by Stefon Brown

Mother Nature produced the forbidden Blackberry
I can’t help but lick my flavored fingers.
A dark cloud of winds whirls me from the cliff I stand on.
An evil voice needles my veins
Steaming fingers prick through my chest reaching for…
No mercy will be brought to me where I’m going

Mama’s House/Mother’s Day Haiku by Stefon Brown

Bird chirps, silenced by
a shattering vase
in the living room. Fun’s done.

The sun mounts
to its twelve o’clock post.
Mom points to the screen door, GO PLAY!!!

Chicken, baked beans, corn
All prepared for us to feast
Siblings rush down stairs

Blood and dirt covered the sore
The arm only needs a
Kiss from Mom

Brothers wrestling
Mom enters the room scowling
She jumps into the ring

Comforting arms
Surround the young boy.
I’m all better now.

Awakened by a
strong but soothing voice
“Come on, time for school”

Passion glued to her words.
“Don’t make me come up there”
Thank God she did not!

Let your beautiful
Minds wander,
No one tell you different

Haikus by Stefon Brown

Rugged bitter man
Carries the torch that
Burns the bridges behind him

To be truly understood
You must be
Truly understanding

Cool May air
Sun on each greening leaf
Too beautiful to write a poem

Flavored Prey by Stefon Brown

He plucks another strawberry from the container to chomp,
Elevates it to eye level and
stares down his prey.
It starts to sweat vigorously in the late June sun
He finally sinks his teeth into the freckled skin
plowing trails with his teeth.
juice covers his fingertips
and bathes his tongue,
making him hound for more.

First Time Around by Stefon Brown

You never know what the first time around will bring
Heart thumbing, band drum
Palms scattering, prom night
The eerie lighted crystal ball shows nothing inside, heartless
One must trust that one will get through thick and thin, smooth blade
And take the leap of faith,
To paradise

Father Time by Stefon Brown

He arrived to my bedpost one morning before I awakened
His tall stature hovered over me zapping me to another place
The eerie thick fog could not shroud his slender figure as we stood poised face to face in an abyss
He stroked his heavy, thick, white beard
The hairs on my arms started to prickle.
My feet damp and cold, I swiftly escaped his presence.
His deep lungs gathered air and exhaled out
“Seize the moment, for I shall come to you
when your time has expired.”

Desire by Stefon Brown

Cupid was drawn to her silky brown hair,
as he mounted himself on the oak tree.
Her window had been left open all day
for the lilac air to linger throughout her bedroom.
Cupid stretched his arm back and
quarreled with the arrow, nearly losing balance.
He aimed, but couldn’t release the shot of lust.
Desire fired in his eyes for her love, affection, and compassion
Cupid’s wings fluttered vigorously
Startling the woman before they made eye contact
As he turned his back and ascended away
She discovered the trench engraved on his backside from the tussle with his own arrow.

Swing by AmbarLee Berringer

Mom doesn’t love me and never wants me to spend time with her. Wednesdays are her days to be with me, to take me with her to have fun. But Wednesday after Wednesday she doesn’t show up; it shouldn’t be a surprise that she never does. But it hurts, less each time. This swing that I sit on holds me just right. It was made for me. It might not be new or bright, but it holds me. The swing looks old; maybe it’s as old as my grandpa. When you swing as hard and as long as you can you start to get calluses. At least that’s what Grandpa calls them. He says calluses protect my hands from getting hurt all the time. Maybe my heart has its own calluses? The swing holds me and sways with me whether I want to swing hard or slow. It follows me like my grandpa’s shadow follows him. Peter Pan lost his shadow; hopefully my grandpa doesn’t lose his. He sits on the porch watching me watch for my mom. He always seems to know what’s wrong. He’s like my swing: safe and always waiting. My tears drop onto my grandpa’s shirt just like they drop on the swing’s rope when I realize my mom’s not coming again. The swing is like my grandfather. They never let me fall, and someday when one won’t be here, maybe both will be gone, but for now my swing is my shadow.