Give up, never!
The challenges of life give greater
Satisfaction when struggling to overcome them.

Give up, never!
Through war planes, attacker
On our land, as my partner is an army officer.

Give up, never!
Through financial strains, being a mother,
Teacher, student, niece, aunt, cousin, daughter…
With duties and love to give as worries grow stronger.

Give up, never!
Going through bowl obstruction surgeries, recover
From that alone is like moving through quick sand, a surfer
Of intense pain, stilted, limited movements that border
On the robotic before getting better.

Give up, never!
Immigrating at fourty plus is no simple matter,
With two teens and two adults to give succor
As the cultural, geographical, and familial reservoir
Dwindles and altered to an extreme purveyor
Of loss as we embrace newer circumstances in horror.

Give up, never!
Through each trial, the sun does shine brighter
And belief that you’re being tested makes me stronger.

Give up, never!
Give up, never!
Give up, never!

©️ Malak kalmoni chehab ©️

A silent thought that now demanded my attention.
The universe knew exactly how to reveal this to me.
A problem that I fixed had finally released me from its bind.
I was going home.
The road hugged my tires like excited friends reuniting,
Usually a 7 1/2 min walk, stretched to a 13 min run.
13 min , the length of a how to video that I’m sure I’ll be frequenting more.
The garage door
creaked opened &
I was ushered inside.
The love of my life,
I husband to her Bride
her face full of:
fear,
wonder ,
here,
follow me!
She exclaimed.
Every noise on the planet dissipated except our foot steps:
ile, carpet, tile.
The light switch felt like the weight of the world.
I found strength from your love to flip it.
A stranger awaited me in my own bathroom .
I was to confront this foe without any idea that my life had found the meaning i was searching for
A vacuum of time,
my life In the rear view.
Thankful that I saw words,
instead of lines on that clearview.
But I only see one, where is the “not?”
What a terrible malfunction,
how could they have forgot?
Then, the beacon of truth
began to break through the mystery.
Those 8 letters have the chance to
alter history:
PREGNANT
Every emotion that I’ve ever felt became
unified-
all the pain of my adolescence,
all the courage of my youth,
all the fun of my independence,
all the worry of my work,
all the adoration for your mom,
They All joined together
to bring me this unmatchable joy.
The true essence of what it means to feel happiness,
I get to be a dad to a beautiful Baby Boy.

It’s a perfect day, let’s go slay.
Waking up feels great, my body’s not in pain. My brain no longer insane, I’m tame.
I put my doc’s on and stroll out the door on this beautiful 80 degree day.
My gosh the beauty I see before me,
neighbors smiling and I am stylin’
Jeeps workin’ just fine wow that just blew my mind
I feel like I’m in a Muppet movie surrounded by singing
And dancing I feel fantastic not a bit sarcastic
nope…. no work today! Just me, myself, and I

The world runs around and bucks you
Of your trajectory with minutiea that drive you
Up a wall, and down into darkness which blinds
Your senses that either gives adrenaline or freezes
You into a statue that’s blind, deaf, and dumb.

Your vision turns into bright starts that short-
Circuit your mind with blinding light whose sport
Is to suppress your logic, embracing emotions
That turn you deaf to all evidence against your passions.
Those then steal your ability to speak your mind.

As the world moves round and round, like a merry
Go round, so do you try to stave off the shocks that ferry
You into dismay as experiences are disillusioningly
Petrifying, with their obstacles and demands
On your taking a stand outside your comfort zones.

Stay the course.
Stand tall.
Savor each experience.
Strengthen your faith with failure or success.
Sever negative relationships,

And let your self-confidence emerge
A snow white pigeon of peace and verve of life.

©️ Malak kalmoni chehab ©️

The following poem is my entry to the contest… as well as being a poem about an experience with a moos in the wilds of Colorado. Being camped near Monarch Pass [elevation 11.350 ft), maybe a couple thousand feet lower on the banks of the North fork of the Arkansas River in June of 2023. I trust that you’ll enjoy the piece, and leave me a comment or two! Respectfully submitted, Ray Whitaker

BLACK MOOSE

It resonates with me
my encounter with another mysticism of nature
at the edge of the mountain glen.
While chancing to be near it
the large, black mass standing stationary in the aspens
as if to be unnoticed by being still

a bull moose eating leaves from above it’s head
a thin line of silver fur
going from mighty shoulder to mid back
young antlers soon to be a fierce armament
now in velvet, growing
as if to scoop up the world.

Moving closer
keeping a mature pine betwixt
the likely over a thousand pounds of magnificence
and my wonder

thus occupied I did not worry
when he stopped eating
looking in my direction
standing there wondering about me perhaps
as he stood in the dappled sunlight.
Astonished at the proximity
noticing the depth of these brown eyes
pushing souls together, mine to his
brown, mine, to brown, his
iris’ different, mine round, his oval

being in the moment of no thought
now wondering if he had a name
no feeling of fear in that closeness
only around twenty paces separating us
the sun shone on me as I looked
and as if I felt that regal power-black fur
a strength, assurance, commanding the ground
he stood on, like owning the very earth.

He is next to my tree now
having moved so silently
and keeping the thick pine between us,
our eyes locked still
getting what each other had to give
my consciousness mingling
with the being of this immense creature
his long neck craning around, reaching nearly in my space.

I moved away, breaking the mesh
keeping the pine tree between we two
having realized this tree
was woefully small
having become a wood beetle now uncovered under the bark
I retreated to the next few tall pines nearby.

I am the Rhinoceros Beetle now.

Our conversation had not ended
tho no words had been spoken out loud
no malice felt, only a near wistfulness
from the moose and I.

Like a translator would be appreciated
to move the instances together somehow

staring into each other’s eyes
for longer still
feeling the thoughts
each having our own insights
of consciousness
and intuitiveness

that powerful rippling muscled black now moving away
my humanness moved in this moment.

Even wanting to know where all this would go
I did not follow deeper into this thicket, his woods.

I’m grateful for
sunshine seeping into my skin like a vitamin D-infused tea flowing through my pores
for water droplets that ooze from cotton candy snow clouds on rainy days
which reminds me of similar water droplets, salty tears I have secreted from welled eyes that race down my face, sometimes like a rapid river other times a light drizzle
regardless of the pour or the saddened emotion, it’s an action of the living
The dead have no more tears left to cry, and I am thankful that I can feel
Even at times when the feelings are not the best

I am grateful for my family and friends
as they make the obstacles in my life feel like a playground
Every rerun of the same lesson turns into a carousel
Every time I couldn’t walk they made me believe it was just a game of hopscotch
Every imbalanced catastrophe was just a seesaw supported by a single pivot point
Every change in life was just another swing on a monkey bar
and when I felt like I was falling seconds
near hitting the hardened charcoaled cement they were there to pick
me right back up and carry my body towards the canvas of blue that covers the sky
so that my fingertips could grip firmly onto the next bar, encouraging me to keep swinging
because there is a new perspective on the other side
I am grateful I have recognized there is another side to see, to experience, and to cherish

I am grateful for my furry friends
when 2 pm turned into 2 am and I still hadn’t left my bed their purrs and cuddles assured me that sometimes it’s okay to have days like this,
but not a week like this because they still need food and water
I am grateful for food and water
For the fuel in my body that keeps the engine turning on so that I make it to my next destination
I am grateful for my body, she works 24 hours 7 days a week, never stopping
just to make sure I am still alive so that I can simply live
I am grateful for life and everything it has to offer
from the highest of the mountains to the depths of the deep blue sea
I am grateful to put this pen to this paper so that I can do the other thing that keeps me alive, writing
I am grateful for poetry and for words and for language and for finding purpose within the realm of this infinitely crazy world
I am grateful to be me
in this present moment,
in my past moments,
and for all the moments there are to come
I am simply grateful, forever and always

I sit up,
Look up,
Firing my appreciation
To God, in whose contemplation,
Veneration, I’m engrossed
In my thanks to all that
I’ve got, that’s on the spot:
Family to love and cherish,
Kin to pray and think of me as I perish,
Friends who’ll miss my presence,
As our discussions cover matters that hence
Ruminate over social changes
Trending through social media’s
Imposing pressure over all genders
And age groups who surrenders
Their freedom to bondage
Of our sovereignty over our charge:
Our immortal soul, whose barred
From its morality, replaced
By being led to sins that destroy
Your connection to the All Mighty. A ploy,
To reduce believers that rebel against sins of immorality.

MORNING EXERCISES

I

I write to the world this day
to sense the wonder
asking it to remember the chances
of it’s beauty.

In writing to the world this day
it is the joy of simply Being
of participating with your God
in bringing the depth of a springtime thaw.

The snowmelt engorges the stream
a long male member pushing down

the meadow below awakens with it
there is a newness to the banks
with the stimulated green
coming from deposits of a fertile brown, fine alluvium

beavers repair their woven dams
spreading water over stream banks
the long winter’s nights have given work to them
see them smile as they cut new limbs to weave

the farmer looks back on the newly plowed field
satisfied that the new shoots
will raise their green heads
towards the sun.

The poets write to give
a sense of the wonders
the beauty of broken winter
the people rely on us to do so
to remind them that their paths
aren’t necessarily muddy.

If even for only a few moments
the readers and listeners to the words
that even the mighty oaks
grow new leaves to shade us.

II

Forget what justifications as there may be
giving a elusive credence
to the crimes against humanity
the narcissistic despots propagate

the killing
the dying
an un-natural cycle created by constructs
of pursuing wealth above the spirit.

Stepping over the pollution
of plastic washed up on our ocean shores
ignoring the warning barks of our dog brothers
telling us to beware

we are all animals, children on our solid continents
unheard are the cries
from a wounded Mother Earth
that is rebelling against the wounding.

It is the lance from the picadors
bleeding red drops to the arena ground.

III

I write to the world this day
to again feel warm wonder
asking it to bring forth the new growth
of it’s beauty.

In writing to the world this day
to the joy of simply Being in tune
with your God’s sent purpose
in bringing growth to this spring’s thaw

touch the sprouts emerging
see the little yellow birds
on the tree limbs happily in the white flowers there
feel the smiling warmth of your dog brother

have seeds of wonder grow
in your place, from the ground of what is possible.

We poets write to give away strength
sourcing the pictures of their universal wonders
the people rely on us to do so
showing the beauty in the winter breaking
to remind them that their paths
aren’t necessarily rocky

focus on what color your beauty is
and that warmth from a bright and gentle sun.

Poem copyrighted 07/2023, Ray Whitaker