June: Poem
Aphrodite
and Her Babies
Aphrodite is a swan bird.
Her cygnets are stronger
Every day, every day.
The babies always stay closer
To their mother as explore the water.
Little ones are doing well and growing
Every day, every day.
I take time as my is thriving.
The peaceful nature scene
Shows anything than love,
Protection, and a strong bond.
Mother bird and her babies’ blend
Perfectly into the grassland.
Spike. Splash. Success.
The chase ends with breakfast.
Tomshinsky@2026
Spoonbill
Spoonbill is a large birdie.
As we know, it lives in fresh water.
The bird is an ancestor of the spoonbill
species.
Do not mistake it with Ibises!
Roseatte spoonbills are monogamous
Nest on the tree,
Pink and white, with spatulate bills.
Distinctive flat bills, long necks, and legs
Brighten up by red plumage
That reflects on diets of ages.
Do not disturb food resources!
Roseatte eats small aquatic reserves –
Fish, frogs, and insects
When marching swamps
And stirring the water
To flesh out the prey.
Historically, spoonbills were hunted
For their feathers in millinery trades.
Today, enjoy their unique silhouette.
Today, we focus on protecting,
And restoring our wetlands
That all birds can fly!
Tomshinsky@2026
Wonder to
Maintain
May I always remain
The kind person to sustain
Who sees wonder
Where others see nothing
Like a ladybug on the leaf,
A cricket singing in the dark,
A frog beside the sunrise down
Because of a gentle heart
That never outgrows
Respect for nature’s life
When the little legs
Are on the flower. –
Nature’s call
Never get old.
May I always remain
The kind person to sustain
To see every wonder to maintain.
Tomshinsky@2026
Nothing
Remains Difficult
Nothing remains difficult
Forever, forever
Like sunsets and soft rain.
The birdsong at dawn
Is my peace of mind
Like a reminder in the whisper
Of the soft water murmurer
That has a complete effector.
A thinker can conquer
Like a protector.
Nothing remains difficult
Forever and ever
As nature tries to say constantly.
Tomshinsky@2026
Loyalty or Affection
I.
There was a dispute
Who is more valuable and important.
We already have a paradise
Within us.
We have loyalty and affection
At the same time.
Also, it is important to have appreciation
Of life connection.
II.
For example, water would not sound
So melodious if there
Were no rocks on its way.
In the cascade of power words
There are no waterfalls
Where there were no rocks on its way.
III.
Animals are fun.
Some hope like a bunny,
Others stomp like a bear.
Animals wiggle and flap
The entire year,
With loyalty and affection.
IV.
The wise green tree listened and said,
“I clean your air.
I give you shade.
I store carbon.
All I ask is you let me live.”
Loyalty and affection
Make the Earth appreciate
What we all have in common
In life connection.
Tomshinsky@2026
Experienced,
Not Expired
You can put expiration date
On the elderly fade.
You still balance wet and dry.
You do not let your heart cry.
Instead, you work hard,
You use music and art
To keep on with inevitable growth.
Continuing education could not be forced.
I do not wait for miracles
But do not want to miss the ones
That walk quietly beside me.
People say broken things
Keep the deepest maps inside them,
Due dates and destination.
True, true observation.
Are you sure that you cannot expire? –
Yes, I am tired and retired,
Not expired!
Listen, energy, skin, and glowing
Improve just in two nights
To stop aging from growing.
After all, experienced,
Not expired!
Tomshinsky@2026
Cardinal Solitude
Cardinal bird behind my window
Came to visit the widow.
He did not come to blend
in.
He came to set the sky
on fire,
Loud, confident,
And sophisticated.
Cardinal solitude
Where is build new life,
And male bird builds safety
around it.
He kisses and feeds the
mate,
He hugs and caresses,
Because cardinals are
the best!
Always looking for each
other
And their babies –
Cardinals are a symbol of
long-lasting love.
Their bound continues of
distance and change.
I need their solitude.
I started to believe
That cardinals are more
than a bird…
Cardinals remind me
That the ones we missed
are never truly gone.
Maybe heaven let us know,
We are still being
watched over.
People say cardinal bird
Is a visitor from
heaven.
Cardinal, cardinal appears
When angels are near
forever, forever!
Tomshinsky@2026
Nature’s Road
Some roads are not meant
To be rushed,
They meant to be felt.
O’my gosh, I am on the
road
While walking in a
beautiful green world.
The morning roads
Where nature’s heart
beats.
Endless roads
Bring endless peace.
Peace is just a quiet
road away.
Let nature guide your
soul today.
My journey through nature’s
embrace
Is a perfect nature’ path
To lose itself and find
peace
Beside crystal waters
and lash green trees.
I found peace of mind in
places
To leave me in awe.
Peaceful road, nature’s
calm.
Tomshinsky@2026
Online Friendship
In the
warm heart of Florida, where the sun spill gold across pastel-painted skies and
air smells of mango blooms and salt ocean, there lived a woman named Linda.
She
was a kind of person as the neighborhood noticed, not because she was loud, but
because she was kind. She remembered the name of every cashier at her grocery
store. She left little notes of encouragement tucked in library books for
strangers to find. She baked banana-nut muffins for the widow three houses down
and knew exactly which flowers grow best in Florida’s tropical soil.
But
what truly set Linda apart was her gift with words. In those days, her peaceful
life was stitched together with creativity, gratitude, and simple joys of morning
coffee. Linda could write a poem about anything – morning dew on hibiscus
petals, the way rain sounded on the tin roof, and how the air smells after the
rain. She wrote love poems so tender that they made grown women cry, and hope
poems so bright they left like walking up to sunshine after a long storm. She
purred her heart that ache of missing someone we have never met. Her Facebook
page was a quit garden of verses and people came from all over to sit and read in
it.
And
that is how Michael found her.
Michael
was a soldier. A tall, quiet man from United States with steady hands and a
weary heart. He was serving on a peacemaker mission in Kuwait, a land far from
home, where the dust was the color of rust and the sound of helicopters was
more common than birdsongs.
Late
at night, when the base grew quiet and stars looked different from the ones he grew
up under, Michael strolled through Facebook. He was not looking for anything,
but he found Linda.
“Hope is
not a flower that waits for rain,” – she had written. “Hope is a seed that
grows in the drought.” He read it once. Then again. Then he saved it. The next night
Michael texted Linda. Their friendship began quietly – some likes here, some
comments there. Then came Facebook messages. And that is how Michael told her
about the heat in Kuwait, the children who waved at the convoy, the way to call
to prayer echoed through the valleys at dusk. Linda told him about the
thunderstorms that rolled every afternoon, about the mockingbird that sand
outside her kitchen window, and the smell of the orange blossoms.
They
talked about everything and nothing: his day, her poems. The distance between
them of oceans, continents, war zones faded in digital communication.
“You
make it sound beautiful,” – Michael wrote one night, after reading a poem she
had just finished. All of it, even the hard parts.” Linda smiled at her phone,
sitting on her porch as the Florida evening wrapped around her like a warm
blanket. “The hard parts are where the beauty hides,” – she wrote back. “You
just have to know where to look.”
One
evening, after particularly hard day, Michael had lost a friend on the mission,
he messaged Linda. He did not say that. He just said that he was tired. Linda did
not ask questions. She just sent him a poem.
“When the world is heavy as desert send,
And your shoulders ache from the weight you
hold,
Remember even the strongest hands
Were once just a story being told.
You are not the battle; you are not the war.
You are the man who walks through it and still
cares for more.”
Michael
read three times. He did not cry but came close. “Thank you, Linda, “– he
wrote. “You do not know what that means.” She did not know. Somehow, she always
knew.
Months
passed. Their friendship deepened into something rare and precious: two souls,
separated by miles and circumstances, holding each other up with words.
One
night, Michael asked her, “Why do you write poems?” Linda thought for a long moment.
“Because some things are too big,” – she typed. “Love. Hope. Grief. Joy.
Regular words feel small next to feelings and emotions. Poems give them room to breathe.”
“What about
friendship?” – Michael asked. Linda smiled and began to write.
“Friendship is a map we
draw between
Where we are, and where we have
never been.
It is not measured in miles
or time
But in moments, we choose
each other again, and again.
You are in the desert,
Me in my sunshine state.
We are proof that the heart
does not distance,
Only the ones it loses.”
Michael saved it too. Not long after, Michael’s
mission in Kuwait came to an end. He wrote Linda a long message about his time
there – the goodbyes, the dust kicked up by the helicopter for the last time,
the feeling of leaving a place that would always be a part of him, and his
life.
Tomshinsky@2026
May is a Mystery Month
I.
Another day, another different sunset.
Roses started to show up.
As the garden is set,
We talk about values a lot.
II.
Sometimes, when mind goes
Thousand miles a minute as today,
Any distance between fields and days,
Physical places and time,
Seems justified and fine
As digital satellite’s life.
III.
Time, comfort, and certainly
Guide to the life choice
To show up in the decisions.
People say May is a mystery month.
Tomshinsky@2026
Short
Girls
Short people, short girls
Come in small packages
In any sexes and ages.
They always stay bright –
Right person does not fight.
Society will never ask you
To shrink the light.
Short girls like French perfume
Come in small packages.
Both their hands and eyes
Like their kind hearts
Know how to stay bright. –
The right person does not fight
And always shines light.
Tomshinsky@2026
Sandals or Sneakers: Poem
A Different Life
I.
There was another life
That I might have had
When I was young.
But now, I am having this one.
This time, it is all about me –
My thoughts, my feelings, and emotions.
I am trying my best –
I live and breathe.
I am breathing life back into me.
There is not any fee
To be free.
Some people call it strength,
Another group looks through the lens –
Perhaps this loud mosquito is something up
With things which I will not put.
II.
There was another life
That I might have had.
Now, I must start over –
New resolutions and goals
Are different from before.
I am challenging my brain
To a battle of wits,
Both mental sharpness
and inventiveness.
Now, please move out of my way –
Your big head blocks my sunshine,
I am on my way to creating keen intelligence.
Tomshinsky@2026
In the
Fairy Tale
In the fairy tale
For adults
Were a Snow White and seven dwarfs.
They taught respect for those
Who practice the love arts.
Little Red Riding Hood
Outsmarted Wolf in the wood.
She taught us bravery,
Never unneighborly.
The Gingerbread Man
Who looked for love
In all the wrong places –
Too much, too little,
Too late to look for Thumbelina,
The flower garden ballerina.
She married the fairy Prince,
In the Garden of Barleycorn.
After it was planted and sprouted,
Yardwork gets you a husband.
Tomshinsky@2026
Great Expectations
I.
Sprong people respect
The boundaries of others. –
Do they know what to aspect? –
Perhaps great expectations
Because of prospects of inheritance,
Learned from beliefs
And mindfulness of acceptance.
Something happened
To switch from mentors
To supportive peer individuals.
II.
When strong people respect
The boundaries and strategies,
You grow and achieve
Personal and professional goals
Without weighted down
By excessive expectations.
It was a blank page.
Now, it does not have perfect lines,
Just honest ones.
Tomshinsky@2026
The Spring Story
I.
The first blooms of spring
Make my heart sing.
I need spring to feel
The way people need coffee
When the green of any tree
Dominates my heart to sing.
II.
If comfort grows behind the benches,
It would be clusters of lilac branches.
Satisfaction is not about speed
But about direction
And yardwork persistence.
I learn that humans who garden
Remain unseen.
They bring warms and smiles
To places they touched.
III.
Is it enough? –
Not always. What should I do? –
To be persistent,
I must live with the brand
I planted.
It is the right place to be.
Spring delights to feed and feel
My bare feet.
The wind plays along
With my hair too long.
Tomshinsky@2026
