Poems by Jordan A. Leturgez

In the quiet dawn, where whispers lie,
Beneath the weight of an endless sky,
I call to the earth, the winds that sway,
"I need a soldier for this weary day."

Not clad in armor, nor wielding a sword,
But a heart ablaze, a spirit restored,
Someone who battles the shadows near,
With gentle strength and a steadfast cheer.

In fields of struggle, where dreams may falter,
I seek a companion, a steadfast altar,
To stand in the fray, to shoulder the load,
To walk side by side on this rugged road.

In laughter's embrace or the silence of tears,
I need a soldier to conquer my fears.
With hands that can heal and eyes that can see,
The beauty and pain that entwine you and me.

For war isn't always a clash of the brave,
But a kindness extended, a heart that can save.
In small acts of courage, in love unconfined,
I find the soldier I've longed for, divined.

So lend me your strength when the night's growing cold,
Together we'll write our own tales to be told.
A partner in life, through the storm and the light,
I need a soldier, to stand and to fight.

In the shadows of a world undone,
Where the moon hangs low, a forgotten sun,
Z Nation wanders, a haunting call,
Echoes of humanity in its twilight thrall.

Once vibrant streets, now silent and bare,
A dance of the undead, a macabre affair,
Yet in the chaos, flickers of light,
Brave souls arise, igniting the night.

Through the rubble of dreams, they find their way,
With laughter and heartbreak, they seize each day.
Amongst the ashes of hope's weary sigh,
A bond forms stronger than the force that would pry.

Zombies amble, a grotesque parade,
But beneath the horror, real heroes are made.
Their spirits entwined, they fight and they strive,
In a nation of shadows, together they thrive.

For every lost heart, a tale to unfold,
Of courage and love in a world grown cold.
In the heart of the chaos, where fear dares to tread,
Hope lays a path, where only the brave dare to tread.

So raise up your voices, let your stories be known,
In the land of the fallen, the seeds of life sown.
In Z Nation's embrace, where the night seems to last,
Together we rise, defiant from the past.

In the tapestry of existence, life dances on,
A symphony of moments, where grace is drawn.
With every beat of time, a new verse unfurls,
As the universe sings, and our stories swirl.

Life goes on, in relentless pursuit,
Through the highs and lows, it remains resolute.
Like a river's flow, it twists and turns,
Birthing joy and sorrow, as the flame of life burns.

In morning's embrace, the sun gently rises,
Painting the sky with hues of golden surprises.
A new day dawning, a canvas to create,
Opportunities abound, if we embrace fate.

Yet shadows may fall, casting doubt and despair,
Testing the strength within, calling us to bear.
But life goes on, like a phoenix unbound,
Rising from ashes, with courage profound.

Through love's tender touch, we find solace anew,
Healing scars of the past, embracing what is true.
In laughter and tears, we weave the tapestry,
Writing our stories, shaping our destiny.

Each breath we inhale, a precious melody,
Every heartbeat a reminder of mortality.
So, let us seize the hours, embrace the unknown,
For life goes on, in whispers, in cyclones.

In the silence of night, as the stars shimmer bright,
In the trials we face, and the moments of light,
May we find purpose in each step we take,
Navigating this journey, our souls wide awake.

For life goes on, an everlasting dance,
In its fragile beauty, we find our chance,
To love, to learn, to grow beyond what we've known,
A poetic reminder, that life's melody is sown.

So, let us cherish every moment we share,
Embrace the unknown, for life's wonders declare.
That though time may pass, and seasons may change,
Life goes on, a story forever arranged.

In this digital age, where screens consume our days,
A poetry I write, to rediscover life's vibrant ways.
For in this sea of technology, we often wander astray,
But fear not, dear souls, for a digital detox will lead the way.
Turn off the phones, unplug the wires,
Let nature's symphony ignite your inner fires.
Detach from the screens, reclaim your time,
Rediscover the beauty of a world so sublime.
Find solace in silence, embrace the reprieve,
Unburden your mind, let your soul receive.
Leave behind the notifications, the constant noise,
Embrace the grace of stillness and find your voice.
To reset the relationship with tech, seek balance and connect,
Engage in conversations, meaningful and direct.
Immerse yourself in passions that make your heart race,
Release the shackles of screens, let creativity embrace.
Discover the wonders of the analog world,
Be captivated by stories, unfold and unfurl.
Rekindle human connection, bask in togetherness,
For it is in these cherished moments, true joy we possess.
Engage your senses, let your imagination soar,
Reignite the flame of wonder you may have ignored.
Feel the warmth of sunsets, breathe in the scent of earth,
Let nature's healing touch guide your rebirth.
Reflect on moments far from screens' allure,
Seek mindfulness, find solace in the pure.
In solitude and reflection, your spirit shall mend,
Rediscovering yourself, your essence, my dear friend.
So, let us detach from the chains we have worn,
Reset our relationship with tech, let it be reborn.
Embrace the digital detox, let your soul be restored,
Find harmony amidst the chaos, life's blessings fully explored.

In shadows deep where shadows blend,
A whispered pact, a silent mend,
Where dreams take flight on tethered wings,
A commission to the heart that sings.

With ink like stardust, the quill takes flight,
Tracing paths through the long, dark night.
Words, like fireflies, dance and dart,
Each flicker igniting a yearning heart.

Oh, noble task, to carve out meaning,
From chaos stirred, to find the gleaning.
In the echo of silence, we seek the song,
As whispered hopes, both fragile and strong.

Gather the fragments, the world's sweet pain,
In verses woven, like drops of rain.
Each line a fulcrum, a bridge to cross,
Turning despair into joyous gloss.

Speak for the voiceless, the lost and the shamed,
For in every soul, deserving, unnamed,
A story is waiting, a cavern of light,
To break through the darkness, to ignite the night.

The commission, dear poet, is more than a role,
It's the art of connecting, the stitching of soul.
So pen down your truths, let the ink spill wide,
For in every heart's tale, the universe hides.

Let every stanza be a lighthouse flame,
A guiding light through the shadows of shame.
For when the world whispers, "You cannot, you shan't,"
In the flicker of verses, we dream and we chant.

So gather your courage, let your heart take flight,
In the service of beauty, let us unite.
For the commission of poetry is never in vain--
It's a spark of the cosmos, a balm for the pain.

n the hush of dawn, where whispers dwell,
And the sky blushes pink, weaving stories to tell,
I lace up my dreams, let the heartbeat ignite,
With each breath I take, I embrace the soft light.

The pavement beneath is a canvas, unspooled,
As my feet kiss the ground, where the world's whispered rules
Fade into the rhythm, a symphony sweet,
Each step a reminder, each heartbeat a beat.

The air stirs with whispers of wild, free delight,
As the sun casts its fingers, painting shadows in flight.
Breath after breath, I shed yesterday's weight,
With every good run, I dance with my fate.

The trees nod their heads, in a gentle accord,
Their leaves flutter secrets, I feel my soul stored
In the laughter of miles, cascading like streams,
Where hope intertwines with the fabric of dreams.

A rush of adrenaline flows through my veins,
An elixir of freedom that courses through pain.
Oh, how the world shifts, when my spirit takes flight,
In a cascade of motion, I glide into night.

And the finish line beckons, a shimmer ahead,
With the fires of passion burning brightly instead.
For it's not just the distance, nor medals of speed,
But the journey's sweet whispers -- they nurture my need.

So here on this path, I find pieces of me,
In the echo of footsteps, in the love that is free.
Each run is a heartbeat, each mile a soft hymn,
In the tender illumination, where my spirit can swim.

Let the world hold its breaths, as I celebrate grace,
For a good run is life, and with each stride, I embrace
The laughter of joy and the sweet, tender ache,
In this rhythm of motion, my heart cannot break.

In a world where silence speaks the loudest,
Where moments flit and fade like fleeting shadows,
We interrupt this program, dear hearts, to pause--
A gentle call to notice, to ponder, to cause.

The hum of routine, a relentless parade,
Daydreams and deadlines, in twilight they wade,
But halt! Let the air be filled with still delight--
For beauty blooms softly in the depth of night.

We interrupt this program to savor the day,
To grasp at the whispers where soft wishes play,
Look closely, dear wanderers, at the petals' embrace--
In the mundane's allure, we find magical space.

Snapshots of laughter unfurl in the light--
The way shadows dance when day kisses night,
Here lies our story, a tapestry spun,
Each thread woven tenderly--hearts beating as one.

A pause for the weary, the lost and the brave,
To breathe in the silence, to cradle the wave--
For life is the canvas, a palette of grace,
We interrupt this program to find our true place.

So rise, gentle spirits, to write your own script,
In the theater of moments, let not your heart slip,
Together we gather, our voices entwine--
In this brief interruption, let your light brightly shine.

In the quiet dawn, beneath the breaking light,
Lies a fire that burns beyond mere sight.
Not just the talent that time may hone,
But a will that carves its path alone.

Skill may build the bridge, the steady hand,
But will ignites the daring to stand.
It whispers courage in the face of fear,
A voice unwavering, always near.

For skills can falter, fade, or bend,
But will persists, a steadfast friend.
It drives the heart through storm and still,
A force that bends the strongest will.

So when the world demands more than what we know,
It's will that helps us rise and grow.
Beyond the skill, beyond the thrill,
It's the unyielding, burning will.

In the dim-lit glow of the stage, he stands, 
A figure cloaked in dreams and shifting sands, 
With eyes like windows, deep and wide, 
He wears a thousand lives, each one a guide.

His heart beats to the rhythm of applause, 
A symphony of souls, a silent cause, 
In every line, a story waits to bloom, 
In every gesture, shadows dance and loom.

He slips into the skin of kings and thieves, 
In laughter's echo or the sorrow that cleaves, 
With every role, he sheds his own disguise, 
A chameleon of truth beneath the lies.

Yet when the curtain falls and lights grow dim, 
He walks alone, the laughter turning grim, 
For in the mirror's gaze, he sees the cost-- 
The self he plays at times feels almost lost.

Behind the mask of joy or bitter strife, 
Lies a tender heart that yearns for life, 
To feel the warmth of love, to touch the ground, 
To find a voice that's real, a sound profound.

He dances on the edge of joy and pain, 
A jester's crown, a lover's sweet refrain, 
In every tear that glistens on his cheek, 
A testament to dreams he dares to seek.

So here's to the actor, bold and brave, 
Who walks through shadows, yet still dares to save, 
A piece of truth in every tale he weaves, 
For in his art, the world finds what it needs.

It is not forged in stadium lights alone--
it is hammered in the hush before dawn,
when the city is a slow exhale
and feet find rhythm on an empty road.
It learns the language of early mornings,
the grammar of returning after falling,
each bruise a punctuation in an unfinished sentence.

This heart keeps time like a weathered drum,
beat after beat carved from patience and salt.
It remembers the taste of loss--bitter, sharp--
and turns it into a kind of sugar for motion,
a fuel that burns clean and stubborn.
It knows the weight of waiting, of quiet training,
and the strange tenderness of pain.

A champion's heart is small sometimes, like a fist,
closing to protect a fragile hope,
then opening wide to hold teammates and strangers.
It is a lighthouse that refuses to wink out
when fog presses hard against the shore.
It is all the promises whispered to oneself
in moments when no one else is listening.

Triumph arrives like a thin, surprised rain:
not the purpose, but proof that the weather changed.
Fame may pass through the room like a guest,
but the heart keeps the dishes warm for others,
learns to carry victory with both hands,
and to fold sorrow into the lining of courage.
It hums the same song whether the crowd roars or sleeps.

And when the body tires and medals cool,
the heart keeps counting small, brave things:
the extra mile run in rain, the hand offered,
the return to the mat after being downed.
Champion is not the crown held high alone--
it is the steadiness to stand again,
to keep moving toward the light you can only catch
one breath, one step, one stubborn beat at a time.

So listen: in the quiet between rounds,
there is a drum that will not stop.
Its rhythm is plain and inexorable--
a promise made again and kept.
That is the heart of a champion:
not perfect, not solitary, but unspent,
pushing forward until the world is gentler for its passing.