Poems by Jordan A. Leturgez

In the neon glow where fortunes dance,
Beneath the glitter of a reckless chance,
There roams a creature, sleek and sly,
With dreams as vast as the midnight sky.

He prowls the canyons of greed and gold,
Where whispers of wealth grow brazenly bold,
Each heartbeat echoes a siren's song,
In the jungle of numbers, where the bold belong.

A master of hustle, a king of the game,
He wears ambition like a cloak of flame,
With laughter that ripples through walls of glass,
In a world where dreams are bought in a flash.

But shadows lurk in the glint of the coin,
As innocence dulled and ethics are torn,
For beneath the howl of the wolf in delight,
Are shadows of lives lost to the night.

The high-flying parties, the glittered excess,
Mask whispers of sorrow, of dreams in distress,
As the dollar signs dance, hearts beat in haste,
Pushed by the rush of a reckless embrace.

Oh, beast of the markets, sharp-toothed, unbound,
What price do you pay for the throne you have found?
The laughter grows hollow, as echoes unwind,
In pursuit of the beast, what treasures we blind.

For wealth is but fleeting, a flicker, a flash,
Yet the scars of the chase? They linger and clash,
In the silence that follows the fervor of heat,
Lies a truth that the wolf will never defeat.

So howl if you must, let your spirit take flight,
But remember the cost of the revelry's night,
In the bright-shining world of ambition and might,
Not all that is golden can survive the light.

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.

In shadows deep where whispers dwell,
A figure stands, a tale to tell,
With every clash and cry that swells,
A heart of iron, cast in hell.

Unyielding spirit, fierce and bold,
A rebel's fire, refusing to fold,
Injustice drips like rain, uncontrolled,
Each action a story, defiant and told.

A mirror held to society's face,
Unveiling truths in a heated embrace,
They shout of change, of a better place,
Yet, scorned by many, met with disgrace.

They walk the line 'tween right and wrong,
A gang of poets, a chorus of song,
With ink for blood and resolve so strong,
They'll fight the silence, where darks belong.

To stir the souls, to awaken the blind,
With words as weapons, fiercely aligned,
For every enemy, a truth to find,
In their rhythm, the pulse of the resigned.

So watch them rise, these public foes,
From ashes of silence, their legacy grows,
In every heartbeat, their passion flows,
The charm of their chaos, where revolution glows.

In a world so loud, where comfort conforms,
They dance with danger, they weather the storms,
For through the struggle, a new norm transforms,
In the heart of the outcast, true hope reforms.

So stand beside them, or stand aside,
Feel the tremor of truth as they bide,
A poetry fierce, with nowhere to hide,
For the public enemy is the voice of our pride.

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 quiet corners of a fleeting day,

Where shadows whisper secrets, and light turns gray,

There lies a heart, stitched with threads of dreams,

Yet tangled in silence, unraveling seams.

I wander through moments, where echoes swell,

In the bright bustling world, I feel like a shell--

A vessel of longing, adrift on the tide,

Yet beneath the still waters, fierce currents abide.

Oh, loneliness wraps like a shroud in the night,

Yet carries a spark of resilience, a light;

For I sit with my thoughts like old friends in a room,

And craft them to words that defy the gloom.

With ink in my veins, I bleed truths undone,

Each line a companion, my battles begun;

Though solitude hovers like mist in the air,

I etch out my journey, my dreams laid bare.

In the garden of struggle, I nurture the flame,

For loneliness whispers, but I won't feel shame;

I'll rise with a purpose, through doubt and disdain,

Each heartbeat a promise--I'll dance through the pain.

So I gather the pieces, both broken and whole,

And whisper to the dark, "You won't steal my soul."

For I get lonely too, yes, I wear that badge tight,

But I still put in work, carving pathways of light.

With every new stanza, I build and I break,

For the gift of creation, it's mine to awake;

In the symphony of silence, my heart finds its song,

I embrace all its shadows, and know I belong.

So here's to the lonely, the weary, the bold,

Who weave their own stories, each thread turned to gold;

We rise through the solitude, crafting our worth,

For though I get lonely, I'll still put in work.

In the heart where whispers weave through emerald leaves,

A towering figure reigns, where the wild heart believes.

With branches like arms that cradle the skies,

The King of the Forest, where silence replies.

His roots run deep in the earth's ancient womb,

A tapestry woven with secrets and bloom.

Beneath the moon's silver, he stands ever tall,

Guardian of shadows, protector of all.

The birds sing his praises, a chorus so sweet,

While rustling leaves dance to the rhythm of feet.

The deer tiptoe softly, in reverent grace,

In the kingdom of green, they each find their place.

Storms may come raging, with thunderous roar,

Yet he stands unwavering, a sentinel sure.

For ages he's witnessed the seasons unfold,

Through summers and winters, through stories retold.

Yet in his great stature, a wisdom imbues,

That life's fleeting moments are what we must choose.

The laughter of children, the scent of the rains,

All weave in his essence, where memory reigns.

So gather around him, dear souls longing free,

For the King of the Forest, he cradles the plea.

In his shade, find solace, in his roots, find your home,

In the heart of the wild, may you never roam alone.

And when you hear whispers, like secrets unfurled,

Know the spirit of nature has gifts for the world.

For the King of the Forest, in stillness, decrees,

That love is the essence in every soft breeze.

In the hush of dawn, where shadows recede,

A tender whisper looms, as day takes its lead.

The horizon ignites with a shimmering grace,

Awakening dreams in this luminous space.

Crimson and amber entwine in the sky,

Each brushstroke of light makes the night say goodbye.

The world holds its breath, for the moment is grand,

As the sun spills its gold from a painter's soft hand.

Heartbeats align with the dance of the light,

In the warmth of the amber, all sorrows take flight.

The past fades to twilight, a chapter now closed,

In the cradle of morning, a new tale is posed.

Each ray a reminder of battles once fought,

Of laughter and love, of the lessons life taught.

Through the veil of the morning, hope rises anew,

In the promise of gold, a horizon so true.

For life is a canvas, each dawning a chance,

To weave in our stories, to sway in the dance.

In the golden break, where the old meets the new,

We find in the light, all the strength to push through.

So cherish the moments, let gratitude speak,

As the world turns to gold in the dawn's gentle cheek.

In the splendor of morning, find peace, and partake,

For we are all bidden to witness the break.

In the hush of dawn, where the sky meets the sea,

Whispers of wanderlust beckon to me.

Palm trees sway gently, like dancers in time,

As sunlight awakens, in rhythms sublime.

A canvas unrolled where the heart paints its dreams,

Where laughter is woven in gossamer seams.

Footprints in sand, a map of delight,

Tracing our stories from morning to night.

The taste of fresh mango, the salt on the breeze,

Each moment a treasure, each sigh a reprise.

Barefoot and free, beneath azure skies,

We gather the sunsets, where fervor resides.

Mountains that cradle the clouds in their arms,

Valleys that echo with nature's soft charms.

A symphony plays in the rustle of leaves,

In the heart of this journey, our spirit believes.

With every goodbye, there's a promise unfurled,

Of the whispers of travel that dance through the world.

For though we may wander, with time's gentle tether,

Vacation is more than a fleeting endeavor.

It's the joy of connection, the bond that we share,

In laughter and silence, in love and in care.

So let us embrace these moments divine,

In the tapestry woven, your heart next to mine.

Beneath the Roman sun, where sand meets blood,

Brave souls arise, in the echo of the thud.

Gladiators, forged in fire and in fate,

Their hearts beat fierce, their destinies await.

In armor glinting, they stand, resolved,

An ancient pact; their fates entwined, evolved.

With each fierce clash, the crowd's roar ignites,

A symphony of valor, of daring fights.

They dance with death, in a waltz sublime,

Each strike a story, a heartbeat in time.

Fingers wrapped 'round swords, bright with hope and pain,

They carve their legacies in the bloodied grain.

Faces marked by struggle, the lines of despair,

Tell tales of triumph, of love laid bare.

For in that circle, where glory meets the grind,

They fight not just for the crowd, but for what's left behind.

A brother's shout, a lover's name,

Each breath they take, ignites the flame.

For every fallen hero, a ghostly cheer,

Resonates with the dreams of the ones held dear.

Oh, magnificent warriors of the sunlight's grace,

In your savage artistry, we find our place.

You rise from the ashes, like phoenixes of old,

Our hearts entwined in the stories you've told.

When evening falls, and the cheers subside,

The echoes remain, and the spirits abide.

In the legacy of legends, where honor may fade,

The poetry of gladiators is forever portrayed.

When shadows stretch and hopes grow thin,

And doubts like whispers claw within,

Remember this, though tempests bend--

The heart will find a way to mend.

Each tear that falls, a seed of grace,

That sprouted in a barren place;

With every struggle, every fight,

We gather strength, we summon light.

In valleys deep where darkness looms,

Life's sweetest blooms amidst the glooms;

For every night that's harsh and cold,

A dawn awaits with dreams untold.

The path is long, with twists and turns,

In every loss, a lesson burns;

Each stumble teaches, each fall inspires,

To forge a soul that climbs and never tires.

So when the weight of the world feels grim,

And worn-out shoes make hope seem dim,

Lift up your gaze to the skies ahead--

Believe, dear heart, you'll win in the end.

For victory's not just a final score,

But the courage found when we love and soar,

It's in the bonds we choose to forge,

It's in the hearts that brightly gorge.

So march forth boldly, let fears rescind,

Embrace the journey with open arms,

For every heartbeat, every hand to lend,

Whispers softly: "You will win in the end."