Author: poetryfest

Shaken from inside
I am sitting alone on a hill top
Looking at the passer by below
A small boy in half pant and T-shirt
Is coming towards me
He is becoming bigger and taller
He is happy with books
He is happy while playing
He is reaching near me
He is holding a hand of a very beautiful girl
They are laughing together
He has come nearer
Holdings the hands of two little kids
They are looking happy and blessed
I don’t know why?
Far away
A lonesome tree
I feel as if is lost in prayer
Standing erect
Head bent down
As if murmuring some thing
I get mesmerized
It entices me
Sometime when I see
leafs dancing and singing
Their laughter entice me
Many times
A woman walking at a distance
Appears to me
As if there goes my mom
I start running towards her but
When I see her
I feel sad
She was not my mother
Many times this happened
With me
Why I don’t know?
I forget
Once gone from the world
Can never come back
Even then I hope
Why I don’t know?
Once I decided to meet
GOD
I started my journey in my sleep
While I was going to his house
a person met me
He asked
Where are you going?
I told
I am going to meet GOD
He told
He is coming from there
He remained waiting at his gate but
It didn’t open
So he is coming back from there
He told me about
GOD’S gate and way to reach there
He even tried to convince me
That it is not a futile approach
But I started my journey and
I reached at GOD’S gate
Started waiting…
Some one started shaking me
I saw a woman near me on my bed
I asked her
Who are you?
Why you are on my bed?
She started shaking me
Vigorously
I repeatedly went on asking her
Who are you?
She started weeping
I was unable to recollect
My name
I got terrified
I became nervous
All of a sudden
Photo strips started running
Infront of my eyes
Each strip was having
Photographs of two people
All of sudden
I saw my mother and father
Smiling in a frame
I remembered my name
I drank a glass of water and
Asked my weeping wife to sleep
I convinced her of my being well but
I was shaken from inside
I learnt the meaning of
Life and death
Water flows through river
To meet with sea
To become part of the sea
In the process
River looses it’s identity
It is easy to say
It is difficult to experience
I am shaken from inside
If I wouldn’t have got
My identity back?
No pain no pleasure
No heat no cold
No rain no snow
No sun no moon
Nothing would be required
What is love
What is hatred
If I am not what I am then
Nothing is required
Lonesome tree
My mother who is not alive
I would have become part of them
Would I have been happy?
I don’t know
I am shaken from inside.
O! merciful GOD.
Have mercy on me

@mdtaslim

Originally published on the Sad Girls Club lit page:

In solitude,
Loneliness arrived on time,
Whispering to my fears,
“It’s too late,
In this flesh encasement,
To try again.”
The problem with sadness?
She speaks,
In every language.
Remembering the details,
Of how I broke.
Pulled up high,
And fastened tight,
That brightly-colored,
crepe paper unicorn,
Cracked wide-open,
From the last blow.
Then the people ran to pick through,
The sweetness of my soul.
Buying Time
Loneliness whispers,
Erase the lines,
of my wrinkled brow.
Furrowed with time,
That pin-pricked shot,
Fixes everything.
The injections course,
Through my veins,
Preserve me;
As a living taxidermy,
Of what I used to be,
And ran through,
Long past my time.
On Becoming
Lines filled in;
I wandered through darkness,
Always needing,
To fill this old soul.
And even when the unicorn,
Turned to discarded refuse–
And I wasn’t the pretty paper,
Or the sweetened candy soul.
That people grabbed,
And swallowed,
In jittery rows.
I was none of it,
and all of it,
Thought I was obliterated,
Afraid to be invisible,
When all of it was ego.
Then the old crone finally came to me,
When I thought it past my time,
She laughed from her heart,
and gave me her smile,
It was wrinkled,
Much older than mine.
I recognized her slightly,
From the twinkle in her eye,
But she wasn’t of this time,
Or place, she was older than the sky.
The Crone
She came wrapped in the night,
For she’s guided by the moon.
I took her in,
We spoke a while,
It ended all too soon.
She put her hand in mine.
The woman of the sky,
Looked deep into my eyes,

My walls are up and are built up strong.

I should have known Helen that you were the Trojan Horse all along.

You’ve brought Menelaus to ruin, Agamemnon too.

Men seem to be dying like flies on each side of you.

Hector is dead and Paris has fled.

Achilles lays in the underworld his soul filled with dread.

Riches and power was your only true love.

Your cruelty fits you just like a glove.

These walls won’t come crumbling down.

My people within them are safe and sound.

Your love is slavery, making me gagged and bound

and

Your compassion is lost and can’t be found.

My walls are up and they are built up strong.

I always knew Helen you never loved me all along.

As Americans Do
Oct 8, 2020 By Hara @ http://www.PoemsIvewritten.wordpress.com

Oh how I’ve run before
Generational trauma
of a persecuted race
FEAR of FAILURE
FEAR of REJECTION
FEAR of JUDGEMENT
FEAR of SHAME
FEAR of GUILT
No matter the anxiety
no matter
Three train whistles blow
AND I THINK
It must be a message for me
to go to bed NOW
to QUIET DOWN
to BEHAVE Normally
As an American would.

NOVEMBER 28, 2020 ~ THE POPE ~ EDIT”DAY 50~GOD BLESS MR FLOYD”

Today is Day fifty and it’s only about one..Let’s talk about the injustice upon Mr Floyd that has been done..While screaming I can’t breathe..Makes a sworn officer press harder on his neck with his knee..I am neither Latino Asian Black or White..I’m simply human..and this murder is not right..On the ground he layed..helpless while handcuffed pleading for his life..this is only met with more force..As he paid with his life..An officer of the law..Didn’t care how many people saw..It’s time to stop this senseless crime..Nobody will ever win..If only judged. by the color of ones skin..To the family of Mr Floyd..Let us hope justice is served..For he deserves nothing less..And to all in your family..as well as Mr Floyd..God bless..A sickening way for Day 50 to come in and then be done..Next up is Day 51….

Betrayal was your truth, Getting caught the real mistake,
Forgiving was my duty, I nurtured a human snake.

Your magnificent body, You wrapped around my throat,
I watched silently, So you complete your master stroke.

Before you strangle me, I let my throat explode.
From mine came out truth, And all yours slowly erode.

Your over confident voice, Suddenly was just faint mumbles,
You believed you had me fooled, I had your lies listed in numbers.

Panicked planning escape, You attacked me with my flaws.
But my heart was already powder, Which I used to sharpen my claws.

Claws that I dug, Deeper in your hollow chest,
Surprised there wasn’t a heart, I put my heart to rest.

– Vaishali Dhiman

My mask will start cracking and soon you will know,
My mask will start breaking and soon it will show,
I’m not really happy, it’s all been an act,
I’m only pretending, and now my mask’s cracked,
You’ll see how my sadness has torn me apart,
You’ll know my joy was fake from the very start.

I will have to hide it, from those who will care,
I need to conceal it, leave you unaware,
I’ll make me a new mask, yeah, that’s what I’ll do,
I’ll make me a new mask to hide from you,
I’ll start with the smile, I’ll make it all bright,
So you never notice my lack of delight.

Then I’ll make the eyes and they’ll twinkle like stars,
I’ll wear longer sleeves so they cover my scars,
I’ll also add glasses to go with the eyes,
I am very proud of my brand new disguise,
I hope you won’t notice how much I am trying,
To make it all seem like inside I’m not dying,
To make you believe my happiness is true,
To make you believe that, instead of the truth,

The truth is I’m dead, have been for a few years,
The truth is I go to sleep drowning in tears,
The truth is sometimes I just wish I would jump,
And then I wouldn’t have to live in this dump,
The truth is you’re the only one who still cares,
The truth is that’s why I want you unaware,
Of all of this pain and of my broken heart,
That I knew I could never fix from the start.

So thank you, my friend, for always being there,
So thank you, my friend, just for showing you care,
So thank you, my friend, thanks for helping me smile,
So thank you, my friend, our friendship was worthwhile.
But I must be leaving, no, I cannot stay,
I’m sorry, I wish that it wasn’t this way,
Just know that I love you and I always will,
And if you forget me, I will love you still.

Poets blog: https://interstellarpoetry.wordpress.com/

(The genres are: Dark, Painful, Rhyme, and Sad)

Genre: Inspirational, Society, Motivational

You tried to be different but you
were alone, like
a leper,
in the wilderness.

It didn’t feel like the whole world
was not treating you right, but the
hatred seemed evident.

They failed to realize that unlike
the three Wise Men
following a star, you
were a man
following
a dream –
your dream.

© aoLIADI

Because my love nest had gaps and furrows
Time plucked the straws and sticks one by one,
When I tried to soar beyond in the sky of hope
Shot down mid-way I was, by a selfish someone.

I tried to nurse my love with lucre and lust
Sheltering it in the golden hedges of faith,
But life was unkind,storms of doubts and dismay
Scattered the feathers of hope,leaving me a wraith .

The happiness lasted only a few summers
While the nest was in the alcove of a tree
But the hunter smelt the aroma of burnt flesh
And aimed an arrow to set my love’s wings free.

Amen, I prayed and let the tides of wind blow

Before you fell, I caught your body in the flow.

Read Poem: Tiptoeing Elephants, by John Hansen

Why do people take offence
so easily these days?
It seems that almost everything
offends in certain ways.

No matter what is said or done,
written or expressed,
someone somewhere, who knows why,
will be visibly distressed.

There once was something called “free speech”
where opinions could be shared.
Conflicting views were called debates,
feelings respected, but not spared.

Most people, then, could take a joke
and share one in return.
It wasn’t seen as bullying,
and the world was not so stern.

Ethics always seemed quite clear,
don’t be unjustly cruel,
but if you made a dumb remark
you’d be called out as a fool.

People stood for elders,
pregnant women, or infirmed,
when riding on the train or bus.
an etiquette easily learned.

Men opened doors for women,
and let them enter first.
But chivalry’s now forgotten,
it’s a relic of the past.
When did people grow so soft,
can’t take some joke in jest?
Especially if it’s said in fun
and no insult is meant.

Now almost everything you say
will be dissected word for word
to find something derogatory,
or race or gender slurred.

I don’t know how it came to this,
it’s all just gone too far.
The rules we had in place for years
fell well below this bar.

Some even want to change the text
In classic literature,
so it won’t offend the snowflakes,
so sensitive and pure.

Now, you better take such care,
don’t write that, let it pass,
or someone may take you to court
And sue your sorry ass.

Well, I’m sorry I can’t do that,
wrongs can’t be just ignored.
Society has swung too far.
Too much has been outlawed.

It is a writer’s solemn duty
to tell the truth he sees.
Inform the lost and blinded
who can’t see the forest for the trees.

Everyone has rights I know,
But not to the extreme
where the majority must tiptoe
like elephants through cream.

By John Hansen 2020