10 More Great Quotes About Poets, Poetry, and Writing by Erica Jong — Paul’s Poetry Playground

“One writes not by will but by surrender.” “In poetry you can express almost inexpressible feelings. You can express the pain of loss, you can express love. People always turn to poetry when someone they love dies, when they fall in love.” “I am not quite sure how writing changes things, but I know that […]

via 10 More Great Quotes About Poets, Poetry, and Writing by Erica Jong — Paul’s Poetry Playground

Meditations in an Emergency by Frank O’Hara #Poetry #Quarantine #Inspiration #COVID19 — Poems for Warriors

Each time my heart is broken it makes me feel more adventurous (and how the same names keep recurring on that interminable list!), but one of these days there’ll be nothing left with which to venture forth. Why should I share you? Why don’t you get rid of someone else for a change? I am […]

via Meditations in an Emergency by Frank O’Hara #Poetry #Quarantine #Inspiration #COVID19 — Poems for Warriors

Aimless: Writing Poetry in a Pandemic — Cathy Tea’s SimLit Anthology

When April 1st came along, and I remembered GloPoWriMo, my first thought was, Oh, of course I can’t participate this year. I was in shock from the sudden school closures and the transition to work-from-home, and I was exhausted from two weeks of overwork. Then I realized: this is what poetry is for. If I […]

via Aimless: Writing Poetry in a Pandemic — Cathy Tea’s SimLit Anthology

10 of my TOP tips for writing Poetry!!! —

For those who are not aware, I am an author of a short poetry ebook on Amazon called Sensations and stars and other poems. Do check it out ❤️ And some of my amazing followers have requested for me to do a post on some poetry tips, and I know that there are some really […]

via 10 of my TOP tips for writing Poetry!!! —

Straightened My Life, by Wesley Hesketh

I walked a crooked path in life, sinning every day.

Drugs my meal of fun. Hiding in them

to get away from all the pain and suffering. From birth

to fourteen I was physically and verbally abused. At

fourteen, I was left on a street corner.

I would eat out of garbage cans or steal from the stores

just to survive. I was arrested and put in juvenile hall,

where I was beat up and raped.

My mother can and got me out. She was living with

an ex boxer. He liked to knock me around like a

punching bag.

At eighteen I ran away and thinking it would get better,

I joined the Army. I was wrong. In boot camp the sergeant

pushed me around and verbally abused me. It was like that

for sixteen weeks.

Then I went to Korea. I was put on the

front line to help keep the South safe from the North. Stress

was a daily thing and fear of being shot went along with it.

That’s where I got hooked on drugs. When I can back stateside,

I fell in with a bad crowd. I become a garbage can junky,

that means I took any drug I was given.

While I was on drugs I went through four very abusive marriages.

Up until then the only God I knew was one that sit in heaven.

He judged everyone and if you sinned you went to Hell.

So I could not look to him for help.

The rest of my life was a blur of mental hospitals. Into the hospital

out on the street over and over again.

Then one day I was sitting on the street corner looking for drugs.

A man came and sit down next to me. I thought he was looking

for drugs too. I shouted at him to get away but he did not move.

“Son,” he said, “What are you looking for?” Drugs I said you got

some? “I got something better,” he said. “it is God.” Oh no you don’t

I know about your God and He is a bad God, judging people and

sending then to hell.

He laughed, “My God loves you.” How could He love me I am just

a sinner? “He sent His Son Jesus to take away your sins.” How could

He do that I asked?

“Jesus was hung on a cross to suffer for your sins. He died so you

will never be judged for your sins now and forever.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. How would He do that for me? “He did that

because He loves you. Three days later He was resurrected from the grave,,

now He is in Heaven at the right hand of God. He intercedes for you.”

I looked at him and he smiled at me. No buddy smiled like that ever.

“Come let me help you.”

He led me to a clinic and introduced ne to a counselor. We talked and

she said I had PTSD and was bipolar.

That was twenty years ago. I found a Bible based churched, and found

a home there. I read my bible every day, and pray to God, Jesus, and

the Holy Spirit, I am no longer on drugs and have a handle on my

problems. Today I no longer walk that crooked road. I know God loves

me and He loves you too.

Cold-Turkey Cuts, by Saleda Abdul

I’m somehow paler now than I was through Winter

And ghosting when I’d rather be out toasting,

Even if it were still out frosting

Nah b, but I might just be lying to me,

Cuz time is teaching me what boundaries and growth mean

Like putting things in their proper place

Instead of tossed in a drawer of disheveled space

Because you don’t get taught the how,

Always just told the what

But I’m uncovering how poetry is my recovery

For, it is perspective renewed

When I can hardly see past the overcasts

And my eyes stay open doing unpaid overnights

Still, to honor ALL the parts that come with You

With the space to feel your feels

And just give it some comfort food

Or maybe a nap,

And take it all in with just a baby step

And, I couldn’t so much regret the ease..

For the tomorrows to perhaps bring a better breeze

By: Saleda Abdul

Ghost of You, by Lucia Irvine

Do you want to,
Come over later?
I hear myself say y e s.
It tastes sour in my mouth,
I didn’t like lemons until I met you.
I recount the time you smashed a bottle millimetres from my face,
Maybe my riposte was too smart,
You glunched and I braced.
I imagine gnashing the glass,
Desperately digesting your aggression,
Slurping my bloodied gums, I spit:
‘whatever you are, I am too’.
You are the train and I am the station,
Withdrawn entities and lifeless conversation.
I grin at you with my new veneers,
you recoil at my advance,
We are the clasp and the loop on my favourite necklace:
impossible at times.
And did anyone ever tell you I look for you the same way I look for post on a Sunday?
It’s unexpected, hopeful and
Sincerely yours,
Never There.

Cosmogony, by Iuliana Pașca

I would like to tell you about my birth
but how to start with no beginning?

Mother said I was born
ahead of my time;
I don’t remember,
but I know I was there when
I also gave birth to my mother.

I saw when from the heart
the galaxies
gushed streamingly,
suns were smiling on the spine
rasing satellites
from the tireless breath.
Neurons formed stars
in the rainbow hair,
while Mars was preparing
for the fight.

From the fingers of the left hand
it detached,
together with the rings, Saturn
then, as lightning,
Jupiter came out of nowhere,
and to my feet
was lying down
the Earth.

Iuliana Pașca (born on 26th of March, 1991 in Romania), studied Romanian Language and Literature-Chinese Language and Culture at Faculty of Letters (2010-2014), gaining two scholarships to study in China (2012-2014). She got her bachelor in Philology with the thesis Madness in Literature, graduated (2017) the Conflict Management International Master Program with the dissertation paper Mediation System in Mainland China and presented a series of research papers such as Diaoyu Islands-a contemporary dispute between China and Japan at international conferences at Università della Svizzera italiana, Lugano, Switzerland (2016).

She participates in literary circles in Romania and overseas. She published in ARTivated Album (2015), anthologies of poetry (2018, 2020), but also in numerous literary magazines from Romania. She made her editorial debut with the trilingual (Romanian-Italian-English) poetry volume Reflectările unei molecule / Riflessioni di una molecola / Reflections of a molecule (Ecreator, Baia Mare, 2020). She teaches English in Barcelona, Spain since September 2019.

„Iuliana Pașca orchestrates the language register in an original and daring way, without prejudice to the reader’s sensibilities, so that, from the beginning of the book one has the impression that the author addresses an exhortation to be more open, more relaxed in front of the text” (Zorin Diaconescu, The challenge to the reader and the pact with poetry).

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Realize, by Ernest Roberson

If I could, I’d write for you a rainbow.
And splash it with all the colors of God.
And hang it in the window of your being.
So that each new God’s morning.
Your eyes would open first……
To hope and promise.
If I could, I’d wipe away your tears.
And hold you close forever in shalom.
But God never promised I could write a rainbow,
Never promised I could suffer for you,
Only promised I could love you,
That I do.

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