Author: poetryfest

As winter kills all fragile life
Every beautiful tender leaf
Buries the soft hopeful light
Bleeds the heart ’til it’s white
So did affection with no shame
Killed the trust with none to blame
Leaving lust no one to name
And the passion with no clear aim
Why work so hard for a blossom
If the winter will not give its blessing
The flower however lovely and pleasing
Inevitable is the death of freezing

Genre: Hurt

how come we crave for growth
yet run away from the waters
that nourish the body
and feed ourselves
with the poisonous
nightlock in the wild
like the forbidden fruit in Eden,
we were warned about
these deadly berries

slowly we let our
bones crack
eyes tear
hearts shatter
by those that seem
tasty to the eyes

by will,
we can resist
if we choose so,
but
why do we rather
beat the red light and
run towards the hazard
then
blame the good
for the bad?

this my friends,
is the very meaning
of self harm

– a thought to ponder

Summer heat
The Great Depression.
Rising wheat
Modern progression.

In an age of revolution,
Revolvers in our hands.
In an age of evolution,
We all devolve from man.

Housing booms
The Great Recession.
Fruit O’looms
Human regression.

In an age of revolution,
There were children in the streets.
In an age of evolution,
Words we cannot speak.

Corporate values
Prized possessions.
Black Fridays
Urban aggression.

An age of revolution
Revolves around the self.
An age of evolution
Acquires goods and wealth.

Oh, American Burnout—
A nation’s failing health.

I’m not the man I used to be,
The maximum I am now is just a leftover trail of what I was
yesterday,
I am a mortified past, giving life to a new version of me,
Not being yet so pure, not even ungodly and refreshed,
I am now just an altered being, modified by the past that once
determined me,
I am a new still apathetic, under constant construction, still
pale and fragile,
For my dead version punished itself in rough living and foolish
maneuvers,
Who roamed in murky stretches in singular caresses coexistence,
Where only I unfolded myself in loving embraces and courtesies,
Now, I don’t want to be good anymore when it’s not worth it,
For people my words aren’t meant for, those undeserving,
People cold and quiet in arrogance and selfishness,
I no longer want them as partners in life, they are ugly and
busy in their social laziness,
That drag on dry ground, that fatigued my tolerance,
I just got tired of everything, an exhaustion that invigorated
me and edified me to be ready,
To be willing to decipher each one, to learn to live as they
taught us,
I’m just like them, before them, I’m how I should be before
someone like me.

The day I was born, God said say hi
The moment I heard him I started my life
Then came learning a skill at 4 years old
Play golf
Mom worked hard but brother and dad were off in there own land
Mom died
Dad and brother stayed not caring and hiding me
Hiding me from people about being kind, smart,accomplished
My being couldn’t let that happen
Every look, every movement, every word I said was a blow to their hate, their hate for me and my success and not living their life they saw for me
My mom still speaks through a graduation card
Don’t give up, I never have
Now I am an accomplished actor writer musician athlete person
A real person with feelings and achievement
I look forward to a wife and kids someday
I will break free

Not you, after death,
your behavior will remain alive.
Car, bungalow, material world,
everything will here abide.
Then why hold on to the stern,
leave all false such pride.
The soul bird of your body,
will leave you, fly and glide.

My Nayantara’s are like twinkling pink dollops of joy
More beautiful in the dark.
In the sequence of falling petals
the stars peep through.
There is order in chaos.
Nothing should come in between you and your sky.

I’m going to have a little faith.
I’m going to hope that belief encompasses triumph.
I’m going to believe that in His own time, God rewards.

I’m going to strive even when it’s not destined.
I’m going to achieve even when it’s not predicted.
I’m going to know that salvation is a process.

I’m simply going to believe.
I’m going to understand that success does not always come with adulation.
I’m simply going to have a little faith in the fact that God rewards.

It’s thirty below zero as the sun
readies to rise on the dawn of man.
I am on the rig floor,
this subzero ice-covered saw-tooth monster
where I stand like a sacrificial fool
in a gargantuan one-sided struggle
of steel and sinew and oil and blood
ripped down to the bone but unbowed
the metal and mettle in a fusion
where the piercing shards of life flay flesh and fat
clawing away the living veil
until it begins to tease the light beyond its ability to resist
turning the night into the truth of a time before
yawning to consume the soul of all that is edible
not leaving even a scrap
running me down into the bowels
of all of it from where it issues forth
and into the world.

In this place, in this time, the eye never blinks
because the mind never closes.

I’d like to give

you a souvenir.

that shines

like island sun

speckling on

the open collar

of your blouse

as the light

comes through

the shading tree.

I’d like to

exchange a kiss,

every time

I hear you say

you miss me.

I’d like to

have a note

sent by you

unregretful of

any love, though

it might be lost

in transit,

caught like the eye

in an agate.

I’d like to give

you roses,

the white, the red,

the black,

they are souvenirs

of every morning,

noon and night

by Robert Brunner