Dipsy-la-lo-di-da, the hippo wore a hat,
And flew to the moon on the back of a gnat.
A penguin proposed to a blueberry pie,
While a sock did karate and yelled, “Hi-yah, fly!”

The toaster recited a Shakespearean play,
While the fridge breakdanced in a furious display.
A llama in glitter invented a sport
Juggling noodles in a pizza-filled fort.

Dipsy-la-lo-di-da, the cactus sang jazz,
As jellybeans tangoed with purple pizzazz.
A submarine surfaced in a giant teacup,
And declared, “I’m the king of this syrupy sup!”

The stars turned cartwheels and burst into song,
While spaghetti noodles swung Tarzan-style along.
A turtle in tap shoes just couldn’t be beat,
Winning gold medals for his two left feet.

So twirl with a trumpet and cha-cha with cheese,
For in nonsense, the universe bows to its knees!

Beneath the soil where silent shadows sleep,
The earth enfolds its secrets, stark and steep.

A graveyard grieves in ghostly, grim embrace,
Where time has traced its touch on every face.

Moonlight lingers on marble, marked and marred,
Casting cold clarity where lives were scarred.

The breathless breeze bears whispers, weak and wan,
Of fleeting figures, here but never gone.

Frail and finite, all flesh must face its fate,
To tread the twilight toward the eternal gate.

Yet even death, with darkness so profound,
Cannot confine what faith and love have found.

Anxiety arrives unbidden,  
a shadow curling around the edges of thought,  
its voice an unrelenting murmur -
“What if? What then? What now?”  
It clings,  
pulling every breath into a tight, fleeting grasp.  

The world offers answers,  
quick-fix promises like fading sparks.  
But beneath it all, there’s a stillness waiting,  
a quiet anchored in eternity.  

“Come to me,” the voice beckons,  
not loud, but sure -
a whisper threading through the chaos.  
In Matthew’s words, it echoes:  
“All you who are weary,  
all you who carry heavy burdens -
I will give you rest.”  

And so, you pause,  
let the weight of your worries fall like stones.  
Your heart begins to open,  
not to fleeting comfort,  
but to the steadfast peace of His presence.  

The Psalms remind you:  
“Be still, and know that I am God.”  
And as the storm within you softens,
the waves calm,
the winds rest,
your soul finds its footing again.  

Philippians speaks to the quiet of surrender:  
“Do not be anxious about anything;  
but in every situation, by prayer and petition,  
with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  
And the peace of God,  which transcends all understanding, will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus.”  

This peace isn’t the world’s -
it’s deeper, unshakable, eternal.  
And when anxiety presses close again, you remember:
His whisper is always near.

Be still

In the hush between heartbeats,  
In the breath before words,  
There lies a whisper, soft as dawn,  
Unfolding in the quiet.

The world runs loud,  
Clamour rising like waves that break,  
But peace waits beneath -
A river, steady, unseen.

Close your eyes.  
Let the noise dissolve  
Into the distant echo of its own futility.  
Feel the silence settle,  
Not as absence,  
But as presence.

Here, in this sacred pause,  
The weight of the eternal speaks.  
Not in thunder, not in flame,  
But in a voice so gentle,  
It weaves through the fabric of your soul.

“Listen,” it murmurs,  
To the song woven in stillness.  
“Know,” it declares,  
That the quiet holds my promise.  
“Go,” it breathes,  
But carry this calm,  
This knowing,  
This piece of forever within you.

Be still -
And hear.

Better not drop these or I'll be shelling out for more,

Cracking jokes all day, it's an egg-squisite chore.

Sunny side up, life's a yolk-filled delight,

Scrambling for words, I'll whisk them just right.

Egg-straordinary tales, hatch from my mind,

Poaching ideas, I'm never in a bind.

Boiling with laughter, it's hard to ignore,

Egg-static moments, always wanting more.

Omelette you in on a secret, it's true,

Egg-spect the best, when I'm talking to you.

Words and words and words,
Unfolding like restless birds.
They take flight on paper skies,
Chasing truths, weaving lies.

Whispers born in secret streams,
Carving shapes of untold dreams.
Their echoes linger, soft yet strong,
Building bridges, breaking wrong.

In their cadence, hearts may bend,
Stories bloom, and sorrows mend.
Oh, how they dance, they rise, they fall,
The ink of life, they write us all.

Words, so simple, yet so grand,
The pillars of thought in every land.
They shape the world, they bridge the seas,
The silent whispers, the roaring pleas.

A power vast, both kind and fierce,
Through tender hearts and walls they pierce.
They heal the broken, fan the flame,
Their weight can cradle or cast the blame.

Infinite dreams they hold in store,
A mystery that we adore.
Each word a spark, a doorway wide,
A universe where truths reside.

And so, to words, a tribute sung,
A language old, forever young.
They weave our stories, mark our time,
Immortal ink in life's long rhyme.

Sometimes, those voices whisper,
       "You can't,"
                   "You’re lost,"
                              "You’re weak,"
they say, with shadows coiled tight,
Rising like storm clouds over my mind,
Clutching my hope, stealing my light.

They creep in corners, faceless and loud,
Weaving their lies in the guise of truth,
Heavy as chains, they tether and shroud,
Draining the colours of life’s youth.

But then, the sky splits, a tremor unfolds,
A roar like mountains torn asunder.
God’s voice cascades, relentless and bold,
A symphony of light, a surge of thunder.

His roar shakes the roots of anger’s grip,
The weight dissolves, the shadows flee.
Resentment, like ash, scatters and drifts,
And I am left unbound, free to be me.

The whispers falter, their power erased,
As His strength becomes my refrain.
God’s roar declares, "You are embraced,
No past will hold you, no hurt remain."

So let them murmur, scream, or shout,
Their power is thin, their strength a veil.
For in my heart, His voice rings out
            -I can, I will, prevail.-