This poem is entirely based on my imagination of how creatures live underwater and each and every creature has it's own supremacy. Due to the rising pollution rate we are loosing the beauty of our ocean this poem also shares a message to humans. https://instagram.com/palakchauhan809?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y%3D I want to get lost deep inside the blue waves, I want to look how different species live their lives and how they are scattered into the depths of the ocean; I want to feel the different shades of colors spread far and wide by the coral reefs I want to find my true self in the blue magic which encircles every part of this earth. Dolphins and fishes moving freely from one place to another spending time with their little ones, An octopus showcasing his superiority by spreading his hands far and wide in every direction; For every creature in the ocean understands its place and role they have to play. Oh! Humans why are you trying to spoil their home, isn't the beauty of the ocean and water bodies important for you? We won't let anyone destroy our home but we are ready to destroy these poor creatures homes has humanity gone for a set back? Life will become miserable without our water bodies now, it's the time to change and make things right or else be ready for a tough future.

It took the young adult a sip of a hot beverage to the time when he lacked the confidence to ask out his high school crush, and he now does so through his first experience with a cinnamon-scented Dirty Latte. https://www.instagram.com/tatendamarko I am at my favourite spot in a Botanical Garden that has birthed a new form of writing, writing in the present as is without thought, only ink, intention and emotion. The green plastic bench lies between an immense tree and bush. I don't know what type of tree it is, but another one like it lies in front and is peacefully rotting in the chaotic scene of a mountain bike hurdling down the slope with three slender dogs racing it paired with a minefield of dog poop. I, unfortunately, stepped in, and it dove into my left black Le Coq Sportif as an Olympic diver would execute a reverse four and a half-somersault pike positioned dive. I was not mad but livid, and the rules clearly state that "No Dogs Beyond This Point" do people listen? Nope, they want to do whatever suits them. I had bought seven rusks and three hundred and fifty millilitres of a Dirty Chai last time I had the two hundred and fifty millilitres of Chai Latte. What is the difference? A Dirty Chai has expresso in it, like the psychedelic-infused ideology my crush possesses, with whom I still haven't officially "shot my shot" yet. I play it cool like the raisins in the muesli rusk that land on my tastebuds. I slow down and deepen my voice like the sweetness of a Chai Latte infecting the Ouma buttermilk rusk while savouring the perfect picnic date I want to take her out on. I envision we would continue our controversial, conspiratorial, intellectual, weird, insightful and damn good fun discussions and arguments about whether the moon is a mother-ship from another galaxy. Here to examine the beginning and demise of man for two hours and still not conclude the conversation. I want to hear her voice when I zone out of work mode and listen to her insane ideas of an ideal world and lifestyle, and her quirkiness usually peeks at this moment. I want to see her smile turn to laughter as it deteriorates my anxiety, like the warm hundred percent compostable and biodegradable Enviro Cup that hosts the cinnamon scent and taste of the Dirty Latte. Her soul and presence feel the same close to mine.

The sole purpose of creating this article was to record my personal experience about finding comfort in the little things of life and a journey of self growth to inspire people. https://instagram.com/ashlleythomaas Last year on a normal school day in August, as I was casually going through the daily newspaper, there was this one article section which I would normally skip due to its boring tenacity. Surprisingly, my somewhat drowsy eyes just couldn’t seem to skip this one article in the poets and thinkers’ section and since that day, I could never finish a single newspaper without going past it. The article was a normal one, written vivaciously yet in a reader-friendly which had the potential to move one’s thoughts towards life. It started off by mentioning the normal human life as a package of sorrow, happiness, pain and the humdrums of a busy life, school, job, or just simply existing. We pretty much deal with a lot of stuff daily but it never came to our minds that even as every day may look exactly the same, it is not indeed. Even the most basic morning is never exactly like other days, there is something unique which separates each day from itself. How many times do we often look towards the sky and thank the nature for its existence? For its literal ability to turn a frown in a smile simply because it pleases the human soul in a way no kind of music can. As I was reading further in the article, I gazed over the time and it was 6:25 P.M. Just seven minutes into the article and it had already started to evolve my senses in a mystical way. It never occurred to me that I have not shown enough gratitude towards every basic amenity, including my house, a roof over my head, a loving family, people whom I could communicate with and even when I would be having the worst day ever, it will be nice to know that I still have so many things to be grateful for, and the greatest among them all, my soul. I found my liking in the little creeks, the orange hour before sunset, bright water reflections or the shining leaves under the sun, it all instilled a kind of happiness which just couldn’t be explained but amounted to a great zeal of enthusiasm. Every day seems to be a blessing now, for I have the ability to witness every single color of every single thing with these two eyes, it being the red light of the sunrise or the magnificent orange light spewed by the setting sun, the glowing stars and the glowing moon of a beautiful world. The stubborn autumn leaves, while falling from the trees’ branches, boons to maturity by leaving its golden and orange imprints on the earth. How lovely is it to see how a random pattern of clouds in the sky has the potential to please millions of human souls without being altered by any means of unnecessary perfection? Just the other day, as I was walking for school in the morning, a bunch of dogs were sleeping soundly on the roadside. It was around January and the sun was just about to rise when my eyes caught a glimpse of one of them. It had black fur and as the golden sunlight shone so ecstatically on him, it almost seemed unreal. A roaring vehicle awakened him and when he opened his eyes, the scared yet a beautiful shade of light brown encircled the black pupils radiating the light of the big star. If he had known that such beauty had ever seemed to exist, he would have been surprised himself!

Here the poet views God as Love. In the first stanza he describe that God is powerful than any turmoil of life. Second stanza the poet shows the profound of God's Love; it only require a reflective soul. In the last stanza, he realize God is in man. O Love! Thy stillness, In the silence of heart whispered deep: Like gentle ripples Awaken big dreams from slumber sleep; Rays of Golden kiss, Across turmoil waves endlessly sweep. Darkness' lullaby, Seems to emerge in thy dotting light. Sit awhile, in it Soul reflects. Thou art in darkest night; Thou speak thousand words, As stars in lonely sky, thou shine bright. Love thou art here, Thy truest you is my fellow men. Apart from this truth My mind cannot grasp that furthest end. Words will make no sense, Even if another Christ is send.

An acrylic painting on canvas. Painted using realism and impressionistic techniques.

The poem is an extract from my journaling from the 27th of July 2022. I wished to submit a piece of writing for the competition but I was reluctant because I doubted myself. Procrastination, I recently learned, is a reflection of doubt. The best I could do is try. Those are the words from a friend whom is a former friend but his words still keep me going, perhaps i miss him. However, like i remember him saying once, things do come to an end, the "beauty" of it is to enjoy while they last. Live in harmony. The stinging and Zambak for the left foot blister Press lightly Pin is being released and as I exhale out I am satisfied I am thankful at least for life. My heart is pounding. Regulate the heartbeat rate, I did. Still fearful. Highlight them and hopefully come out with poetry, I tell myself. Harmony. In harmony, may we live. Sprout out, for you have done well.

I write just about any emotion that I may feel at that certain moment, be it overwhelming sadness or overall happiness, that is therapy for me. Even when I was lost in the midst of my transgression wrapped around anger I still managed to smile I was starved of the unconditional love that I was used to, the cold which dragged my limbs to darkness

i don’t believe ghosts are real. i believe they come back as mosquitoes. at least the ones that crave revenge, but who could blame them with their stories left without end? it’s a curse to be a daughter because then i’ll become my mother. we both have the same sweet blood that sticks to us like mud. snap! clap! laugh! how many swats does it take to be alive? yet, still, i can’t deny that i scratch away at hives.

https://www.instagram.com/tesanaaurora Did you know that, I'm not just happy when you're near? I'm happy when you're happy I'm happy you allow me to care Your smile sets a blaze the fuse in my heart, Setting off the fireworks that I didn't know could start Moments like these were expected to come Moment where our mental states would succumb To negative forces that heavily affect us Moments of not seeing your smile, a gap between us A candle can not ignite if it is wet It must take it's time to dry before it's next step Sometimes, it's needs a helping hand Another candle's blaze, to help that flame begin So when you feel yourself getting lost in it all Know that I'll be right there, waiting for your call Even the sun cries sometimes, and I want to be there... To wipe the tears from your eyes

I was addicted to cigarettes for almost a decade. When I started quitting, I was haunted by these nightmares. This is one of them. This short story was also performed at the Market Theatre in Johannesburg, South Africa. I am now 4 months clean. https://www.instagram.com/because_im_ricky2 My eyes opened. The air around me felt cool, that’s the first thing I noticed. Then the fact that it was nighttime. Then I noticed that my hands were tinnier. My feet were tinnier too. I also felt immense relief over my shoulders that I hadn’t felt in years. I was at the front porch of my childhood home in Arum Gardens. The porch light was off, but it seemed like every other house in the neighbourhood had their lights off. “Liso…” A familiar voice yelled my name. The word, my name, echoed in my ears. I saw Alu running towards me, my childhood friend. She was sweating. She wore a green dress that she owned when she was seven. Because we were both born on the same year, I assumed I was seven again. That also explained why I was at my old childhood home. She lived at the hill of the neighbourhood and she seemed to have been running her way down to my house. “What’s going on? Why are you running?” My voice echoed in my ears. “Someone’s coming! Someone’s coming!!” She screamed. I was instantly overwhelmed with panic and fear. I turned my head and another childhood friend of mine, Michael, who also had turned seven again, was running towards us. Even though he ran in the dark, I could see the evident fear in his eyes. “Liso…” When he was about to step into my yard, a gunshot fired. Michael’s body collapsed on the tar road and blood spat from his chest. My eyes widened. Alu had grabbed me by the wrist and sprinted away with me. I could only feel myself moving forward, but with absolutely no control over my legs. We ran to the back of the house as I felt thudding footsteps running behind us. It was as if I could feel every step, every vibration, from the bottom of my feet. Like a prey hunted by a predator. We didn’t stop running. We ran through the backyards of the houses in the neighbourhood, heading up back to Alu’s house. Now there were more gunshots, women screaming and wailing. Through the backyard, we got inside Alu’s house for cover. We sneaked to the lounge, with her walking in front. Where her father usually fell asleep with his glasses on and a bottle of beer next to him, she peeped her head in the lounge. It was as if I could see what she saw. A tall man attired in a black uniform with a firearm in his hands shot her father. Twice. She gasped loudly. The man instantly heard her and pointed the firearm to her direction. I swiftly grabbed her arm and sprinted back to the back door. The man shot multiple times, but missed due to the lack of light. When we finally stepped out, another gunshot fired and I could feel Alu’s pace slowing until she wasn’t running. When I looked behind me, the bullet had penetrated through her face and blood oozed from the wound. Her body collapsed on the floor as I let go of the grip with trembling hands. I didn’t waste another second. I ran through the back as I could feel the tall man catching up to me. I ran through Alma’s house, another childhood friend of mine. Just when I was about to enter, I heard another gunshot coming from inside his house. I could only gasp as a response. I continued running as I saw my neighbours’ bodies bleeding lifelessly on the floor. I stopped running for a while as I looked around me in awe and sheer horror. Everyone I knew from the neighbourhood, the mothers that raised us and the fathers that welcomed us with open arms, were now dead. Mrs Beauty’s body, who lived next to Alma’s house, laid lifelessly on her front stairs. Ms Dita’s body, who lived right next to Michael’s house, was sluggishly swimming in blood on her front porch. The houses, outside, had tall men in black uniforms, just like the one at Alu’s house. The gunshots didn’t stop. They never did. I heard a boy moaning in pain. He was hiding in one of the many bushes we had in our neighbourhood. “L…Liso…” He yelled as he saw me. Kay, another childhood friend of mine. I ran to him at a swift speed. One of the tall men, who literally appeared in thin air, cocked a firearm and brutally shot him multiple times. This time, death felt even closer. I ran past the bushes like a mad man. I tripped and fell. It was supposed to hurt, and in fact the palms of my hands were bleeding, but I continued running. I hid as soon as I saw another tall man. I noticed the house I was hiding behind. It was the house right in front of mine. I then wondered what had happened to my mom. My cousin, Bonnie. I found it even harder to breathe once the thought settled. I felt the warmth of my tears escape my eyes and scroll down my cheeks. Everyone was dead. It would only be a delusion to believe that they weren’t. Just when my eyes were about to close and wince to the pain all over my body, a hand pulled me softly, which made me jump. When I turned my head, I was filled with hope again. “Alma!” I whispered. Because he was extremely light-skinned, I could still see him in the dark. “My parents. My parents are dead, Liso!” He had been soaking in tears. “Look, we’re going to make it out of here.” “How?! Everyone is dead!” He hissed silently. I didn’t know how. Really, I didn’t. Alma was the only one amongst my friends who was older than me. And that, somehow, made me feel as if I had someone, an adult, around. He was only eight, but seeing him somehow ignited a flicker of hope and faith that made me believe I would make it out alive. From a distance, hiding, Nikki sneaked out of the bushes. Another childhood friend of mine. She was the youngest out of my friends. “Nikki.” I whispered to Alma. He turned his head. “We can’t help her, Liso. We need to be absolutely quiet!” “We can’t just sit here. We are literally in her backyard!” I hissed furiously at him. “We need to help her!” Alma sighed. “Liso…” “Nikki…Nikki.” I tried whisper-yelling. I tried multiple times and right when her head was starting to wander, Alma silenced me with his hand. Another tall man heard Nikki’s shuffling. He grabbed her by her braids and dragged her out of the bushes. She screamed with dread in her eyes. I had never seen anyone that terrified in my life! He grabbed a dagger from his waist and stabbed her chest. He did this countless times until she was completely silent. I felt my breath stutter. She was only six, I thought. When the man was done, his head turned in our direction. When the man reached for his firearm situated on the other side of his waist, Alma had grabbed my arm and sprinted upfront. My legs followed. This time, it seemed like more men were after us. We ran to my house. The door was wide open. We ran inside and our steps slowed as the entire house was filled with darkness. I walked upfront as Alma silently followed behind me. “Mom?” I whispered through my clenched teeth. “…Bonnie?” As I stepped into the long passage that divided the rooms, I felt something wet between my feet. I bent down and there was a body. I gasped. One of the men flashed a light through the windows. I quickly hid, but the light had shown Bonnie’s face covered in blood and a bullet wound on his forehead. “That’s Bonnie.” Alma whispered behind me. “Michael, Kay and Alu are dead too.” I wept silently. Alma caressed my shoulder for a while. For a second, I took a breath. A long one. One that actualized my cousin’s death. My first memory of a friend, a brother. I couldn’t waste time, I reminded myself almost instantly. I reluctantly leaped over Bonnie’s body and headed to my mother’s room. My heart started beating even faster than it was. Every second felt suspenseful. I had no idea what to expect. My chest felt hotter and tighter. “Mom?” I whispered again. “…Liso?” A voice, a familiar voice, came from the wardrobe. I slowly walked to the wardrobe. With agitation and anxiety, I slowly opened both doors and I felt an immense weight on the doors. When I had finally opened, my mother’s lifeless body collapsed on me. Her face was completely bitten off and only an eyesore imagery of blood and horror remained of her. Her body thudded on the floor as I released a macabre scream. “MOOOM!!!” I screamed in paralyzing anguish. Then I heard stomping from outside. Alma had widened eyes looking back at me. I was now silent. Then I heard a pack of growls, animalistic growls. Angry growls. Like dogs and wolves were waiting for us outside. Alma and I looked outside the window and the tall men, in countless numbers, were standing outside my house. Their faces didn’t have eyes or noses, just a hole filled with sharp teeth. They were all bald and their skin was as grey as mushroom soup. It was dark outside, but I could see their purple veins on their heads “What…is that?” A growl came from the wardrobe. Alma and I turned our heads simultaneously and stared in anticipation. The growls became even stronger and angrier. Alma pulled my arm gently, as I was closest to the wardrobe. I took cautious steps back until we both were by the door of the room. More lights from outside shone, which seemingly came directly from their mouths. The growl soared into a full roar. Alma and I screamed in unison as we sprinted out of the room. Alma leaped over Bonnie’s body and as I was about to do the same, I tripped on the blood and fell again. Alma ran back to me and grabbed my arm and my legs began running behind him. When Alma stepped out first, running at full speed, something FLASHED across the door frame, jumping on him. “Liso!!! Liso!!! Aaaahh!!” I froze for a second. For that second, I contemplated not running. I considered submission. But as soon as Alma’s screams silenced, the mysterious creature peeped its head inside the house and saw me. It was as if I was looking into its eyes. I took several steps back as it neared closer. These things are not men, I thought to myself as I noticed every feature it had. I thought of the sliding door behind me hidden behind the sitting room’s curtain. I continued walking backward as this creature sneaked towards me, now salivating what looked like thick mucus from its mouth. I finally leaned my back on the sliding door and slowly opened it. When the creature heard the snap of the sliding door opening, it roared furiously and ran towards me. I screamed again as I ran out. Just as I was about to wander, they, the creatures, had me surrounded. I heard my own gulp, my own terror, going down my throat. Their growls sang in unison around me. One of them, who seemed like their leader, had a dagger in its hands. When it was close enough, he punctured it through my stomach. Just when I was about to anticipate the pain… My eyes opened. I gasped a large amount of air as I looked around. I was in my bed, sweating profusely. I noticed my room. My room in Fort Grey, where I live now. I looked at my hands. They were big again. Then the reality sank in as I calmed: that it was just a dream. And wow, what a dream I had! THE END

I have always had a fascination with space as the celestial objects have a significant distance between them yet still have somewhat of a relationship. "Space Man" takes this distance and applies it to young teenage love. To the one who left to fetch me the Sun, Did you respond with the wind? Perhaps, you found it of more use And my dear, throughout your contemplations as you ventured, did you manage to see me any better? As you went to fetch the Sun, Did the expanse of the unknown terrify you? Begrudgingly, you surmounted, tethered to where you began. Or was it my happiness that wasn’t worth an eternal sunset? The lack of perspective that sets apart rises and falls, days and nights, the sun and moon, and you and I. Yet everything else seems to be harmonious, Untouched by ignorance, fixated on their counterpart They all just seem to exist. But you, you are the man who fears space yet manages to make more between us. The sun doesn’t just supernova. It leaves its stardust for others just like it to recollect. Maybe it’s inspiring. But when our hearts are scattered amongst the cosmos, They will find the love they deserve: An eternal nebula, A rebirth celebrated by a vivid aurora.