Poems by Jordan A. Leturgez

In the stillness of the hour, when time holds its breath,

A whisper curls in shadows, where dreams dance with death,

This one moment, fragile, like dew upon dawn,

A flicker of eternity, soon to be gone.

The world sprawls around us, in chaos and haste,

Yet here, in this heartbeat, we savor the taste,

Of silence unbroken, of secrets untold,

The warmth of connection, more precious than gold.

The sun dips low, painting skies in a blaze,

A canvas of colors, igniting our gaze,

And all the wild echoes, the laughter, the sighs,

Melt into the fabric of dusk's velvet skies.

In this moment, we linger, our souls intertwine,

Each breath a reminder, your heart beats with mine,

For what is this life, but a series of beats,

Fleeting and fragile, like the touch of our feet?

So let's hold this instant, let it cradle our fears,

Let it remind us, amidst laughter and tears,

That in all the tomorrows, in the vastness we roam,

This one moment, dear lover, is where we find home.

A treasure unspoken, a flickering flame,

Two souls in the silence, not seeking acclaim,

For in truth, in this now, and the way that it flows,

We awaken to love, in the still watch it grows.

So here, let us linger, as stars start to fade,

In this one tender heartbeat, our eternity made,

For moments are feathers, that drift on the night,

Yet this one moment, my dear, is pure light.

In the hush of twilight's gentle sigh,

Where shadows linger, and dreams dare to fly,

Whispers of valor weave through the air,

Tales of the unyielding, cloaked in despair.

Beneath the stars, in the depths of night,

Heroes awaken, igniting the fight.

With every heartbeat etched bold on the skin,

They carry the burdens where hope has been thin.

Through valleys of sorrow, where anguish has roamed,

In the face of the tempest, their spirits have combed,

They rise like the dawn, fierce and unbroken,

Voices that tremble with words left unspoken.

From rocky encampments where spirits may stray,

To cities adorned with memories frayed,

Each echo tells stories of courage and grace,

Of hands that have lifted the fallen from grace.

In the flicker of flame, their shadows appear,

Guardians of spirit, the brave and the dear.

Every struggle a testament carved into time,

Their legacy hums, a resounding rhyme.

For in the heart of the storm, when the world seems to fade,

The unyielding stand firm, unbowed and displayed.

They write with their actions, in blood, sweat, and tears,

Crafting a saga that conquers our fears.

So listen, dear soul, to the echoes that call,

In unity's strength, let us rise and not fall.

For the tales of the steadfast, in whispers or shouts,

Remind us of courage, of what life's about.

Let valor's embrace be our guiding light,

As we march through the shadows, unyielding, in sight.

For the echoes of valor, forever will soar,

A tapestry woven where spirits restore.

In the hush of dawn, where dreams ignite,
A whisper calls to hearts in flight,
A comet's tail through the velvet sky,
"Stay on target," it breathes with a sigh.

The world may swirl, a tempest's dance,
But in focused gaze lies the chance,
To weave through storms, to pierce the night,
A steadfast spark, our guiding light.

When shadows loom and doubts ensnare,
Hold tight to the vision, breathe in the air,
For every setback, a lesson learned,
Every flicker of hope, a fire burned.

Through valleys deep and mountains steep,
In the echo of silence, dreams don't sleep.
So anchor your will, like roots in the ground,
In the rhythm of purpose, let courage abound.

Let not the noise of the world distract,
Keep your heart's compass, its true abstract.
With clarity woven in the fabric of fate,
You're not just a dreamer; you're a piece of the great.

So rise with the sun, and seize the day,
Carry your vision, don't drift away.
For the stars above, in their vast array,
Whisper to us softly, "Stay on target, stay."

With each step forward, feel the pulse,
The beat of your passion, the truth that repulses,
Fear and the doubt, from shadows be free,
For in staying on target, you'll find who you're meant to be.

In the hush of twilight's tender embrace,
Where shadows dance and dreams interlace,
There rings a sound, sweet as a spell,
A whisper of magic--silver bells.

They chime through the air, soft and clear,
Notes woven with hope, a song we hold dear.
A shimmer that glistens on crisp winter nights,
A tapestry woven with shimmering lights.

Each toll tells a tale of the years gone by,
Of laughter and love beneath vast, starry sky.
They summon the memories, fragile yet bright,
Of children in snow, their faces alight.

With hearts like the chiming, they echo and swell,
The joy of the moment, the stories they tell.
The frost-kissed air carries secrets anew,
Embracing the warmth of the bonds that we grew.

As softly they ring, like a lover's soft sigh,
Calling us home where the sweet spirits fly.
They bring forth the peace that the season bestows,
A symphony echoing as soft as a rose.

So listen, dear friend, as the silver bells chime,
Let their melody cradle you, timeless as rhyme.
In this world full of chaos, be still and behold,
The magic they weave, in their shimmering gold.

In the heart of the concrete, where dreams clash and meld,
Beneath the hum of the city, a symphony swelled.
With echoes of sneakers that whisper and shout,
In the dance of the hustle, there's no room for doubt.

A glint in their eyes, the young ones appear,
With passion ignited, fueled by hopes and fear.
They lace up their courage, the court their domain,
In every dribble's rhythm, they find joy in the strain.

Bouncing dreams on asphalt, arcs of sky-high shots,
Each feint and each pivot, a battle of thoughts.
The crowd roars like thunder on the wings of a pass,
In the cradle of hustle, the seconds can last.

Grit on their palms, ambition in flight,
They chase down the dusk, turning shadows to light.
Every missed chance, a lesson to earn,
Each victory echoed in the passion they burn.

What stories they carry, what burdens they share,
With every three-pointer, they conquer despair.
The hustle is real, woven deep in their soul,
A testament glowing, a fire to extol.

For in every jump shot, in every laid-up lay,
Lives the heartbeat of hope that refuses to sway.
So here's to the dreamers who take their stand,
In the hustle of hoops, they build their own brand.

Through sweat and through laughter, through heartache and pain,
They're crafting a legacy, a sweet refrain.
For in the game of life, both radiant and raw,
The hustle of hoops teaches us all to soar.

In the quiet hush of dawn's first light,
When shadows flee and dreams take flight,
I gather words like petals rare,
To weave a tapestry of praise laid bare.

With whispers soft, like a summer breeze,
I turn my gaze to the swaying trees,
And in their motion--graceful, true--
I find a rhythm, a song anew.

Praise is my craft, my heart's own beat,
In the mundane, I find the sweet--
The glimmer in a stranger's smile,
The warmth of kindness that makes life worthwhile.

For every heartbeat, for every sigh,
In the laughter that dances and the tears that dry,
I gather the moments, both small and grand,
And spin them into gold with a gentle hand.

Praise for the mountains that touch the sky,
Praise for the rivers that sing as they fly,
Praise for the love that binds us tight,
For hope that flickers, igniting the night.

In every sorrow that stirs the soul,
In every triumph that makes us whole,
I pen the verses that rise and fall--
A hymn of gratitude, a fervent call.

So let my heart be the vessel, true,
As I cradle the world in praises new;
For in each word, a spark I find,
A bridge of beauty, intertwined.

In a life well-lived, in the breath we share,
In the simple act of showing we care--
A poetry of praise is what I do,
To honor the light that shines in you.

In a room where time seems to pause,
Soft whispers linger, while moments cause
Hearts to dance with hesitant hope,
Beneath the weight of the world's scope.

Walls painted in soothing, muted hues,
Holding secrets in their silent views,
Where shadows play and light gently spills,
Upon dreams cradled in fragile wills.

The ticking clock, a solemn friend,
Marks the cadence of breaths that blend,
With thoughts of healing, of fears laid bare,
In chairs familiar, hearts yearn and share.

Each glance exchanged, a story unfolds,
"Tales of courage in the face of cold."
The worn-out magazines lie untouched,
Yet the spirit of warmth cannot be clutched.

There's solace found in the ailing sighs,
And hope reflected in tear-streaked eyes,
While the hum of machines, a lullaby sweet,
Sows comfort in the weary heart's beat.

In the quiet chamber of waiting, we stand,
With fragile strands of both love and demand,
A tapestry woven of heart, soul, and grace,
In this sacred space where we each take our place.

For here, in the stillness, the world seems to bend,
Uniting our spirits, a common thread to mend,
A compassion that flows like a river's embrace,
In the poetry of life, we find our true space.

There are moments when the throat becomes a glass--
too thin to hold the shape of a thought,
too clear for the tongue to frame a single syllable.
A silence like winter settles behind the ribs,
and words, like migratory birds, swoon and pass the horizon.

The heart keeps speaking in a language of knocks,
each beat a small drum calling maps into being,
but the mouth is a sealed bay where ships cannot anchor.
Eyes pick up the slack--harvest light, gather the tilt of a smile--
and hands begin to speak in the slow grammar of touch.

Speechless is not empty; it is a room hung with echoes,
a laundry of moments drying on the line of breath.
It holds what cannot be caught by consonants:
the tilt of astonishment, the bruise of grief,
the hush between two people where forever is negotiated.

Sometimes speechlessness is awe--an old tree opening its arms,
a sky so full of color the tongue forgets its work.
Sometimes it is fear, a mouth barricaded by frozen rain.
Sometimes it is love so vast the map of names unravels.

Listen: the silence speaks in the small currencies--
the press of a palm, the tilt of a head, a laugh let loose like birds.
If you learn that language, you will find whole oceans
where the world had promised only deserts.
Speechless, then, becomes a poem that needs no spoken rhyme.

It cracks the night like glass--an animal, a bell,
a throat unzipping to pour out a sky.
It spills, a red river down the face of the moment,
flashing teeth at the steady, indifferent stars.

NOOOOOOO!!!!! echoes in the ribs of buildings,
boomerangs off distant, sleeping houses,
finds the small room where hope had been folded,
unfolds it roughly, leaves the paper thin and trembling.

It is the sound of a hand pulled from another's,
of a light blown out in mid-sentence,
of a name that will not be buried politely.
It overturns the tea, it topples the faith
you had arranged like trophies on a shelf.

But listen: the scream is not only ruin.
It is also a beacon, raw and incandescent,
a flaring refusal that clears the fog.
In its wake the air tastes new--sharp, honest,
like rain after fire, like breath after being held.

NOOOOOOO!!!!! breaks open the sealed things inside,
lets you see the hands you thought were steady--
trembling. It forces the dress to the floor,
reveals the wound that was meant to be contained.

And from the jagged heart of that sound
a quieter music is born: a no that is a wall,
a no that is a door slammed shut against harm,
a no that makes room for the yes you might not yet know.

So scream it if you must--let it peel the paint,
let the neighbors think the world has ended.
Gather the pieces, count the cost, and choose:
not every NO is loss; some are the very shape
of the life you are still building.

NOOOOOOO!!!!!--a thunder that finally clears the sky.

In the darkest of nights, New Year's Eve unfolds,

A symphony of lights, enchanting to behold.

Fireworks painted across the vast expanse,

With colors that dance, a splendid cosmic dance.

With each joyful burst, hope pierces the air,

Glimmers of promise, a future unaware.

Explosions of shimmer, cascading from high,

Igniting the sky, an ethereal sigh.

As midnight chimes in, the world holds its breath,

In parties teeming, vibrant life's sweet caress.

Laughter and cheer, like confetti in flight,

Gathered in delight, embracing this wondrous night.

Champagne flowing, toasts raised in merriment,

A fleeting moment, a divine sentiment.

The year now departing, memories and dreams,

Unraveling streams, a tapestry, it seems.

In the haze of celebration, time takes a pause,

Reflection embraced, as a brand-new year thaws.

Resolutions whispered, held close in our hearts,

A fresh new start, destiny's intricate charts.

Yet in this spectacle, amidst all the grand,

Lurks a deeper truth, like fine grains of sand.

For fireworks may fade, and parties may end,

But love, my dear friend, will forever transcend.

So as the embers wane, and the night grows still,

Let us hold on tight, to hope and goodwill.

May this New Year's Eve, like fireworks that soar,

Ignite something more, a soul's awakening tour.