They swaddle me in sugar
sweet platitude to ease
the rasp in my throat and
force my screams into my
stomach. This world is dry
I ache for the warm wet
of the womb where home
was in the soft soothe of
my mother’s voice. I am
living a life that blinds me
daily and folds me thinner
than fresh linens. My heart
is soft like my newborn skin
these bones are yet too brittle
for the heavy of this new life.
Make love to me as if it’s the first time you fucked me after we met.
I know things about you that you aren’t capable of knowing.
Some, many times I crawled back to us,
You pretended that emotion no longer bind us, and we’re not allowed to have sex.
Every time I see you I force myself not look at the watch,
Because time stops and besides we’re not right for each,
This is practice for new people we might meet down the road.
I can count things, that hold you back, up to a hundred,
Faster than my pretend-luxury car goes zero to sixty.
I won’t ever be able to tell you the words that will save your life,
If I whisper them into your ear, you won’t hear me.
I no longer fear rejection and lie to myself about things that give me anxiety,
So that fake…
View original post 23 more words
Sometimes my branch sticks out more,
it gets lonely.
Although, I’m first to touch the sun,
I’m also first to feel the wind and rain.
People, passing by, take turns swatting at me.
Drops of water settle on my upturned leaves,
I study the many reflections.
Until the air changes,
and my bloom falls away.
My core remains unchanged,
just more bare.
I’ve traveled a bit more outward,
while trying to reach the sun.
The others are following my lead,
but, remain conservative.
I know that I will be first to feel the cold settle in deep,
and the first to gather loosely falling snowflakes.
My voyage to see you
became perilous,
my boldness faded,
my heart was poured
on a note and placed
in an empty bottle,
even if i do not make it,
i hope you read my
heart on this note
when it gets to shore.
Have eyes that have cried seen God or pain?
Why must the appearance of emotion seem so insane?
And over time
Do the scars on your skin show affliction or a story?
Why does growing seem so gory?
And what of the stretch marks on your bosom belly or backside?
Have you been crucified for your imperfections or praised for what has stretched you on the inside?
You know
Wombs carry wounds
Each month we shed blood for the sake of preservation
And we hold blood for mankind’s creation.
It’s sad how our strengths are perceived as weaknesses
How our tears are signs of distress rather than joy
And our beauty is defined in flawless appearance
Rather than honored for its everlasting changes
The strength it carries throughout the ages.
The wears and tears
We wear it well.
Women are essential pieces of the broken pieces of this tattered specie of mammal called humans
As protons are to a nucleus
Our uniqueness is a vital part of our existence.
Treat us as more than just property.
| ASTE OF LOVE, 4min, Austria, Romance/Experimental Directed by Paul Scheufler What is the taste of love? Could it be sweet, sour, bitter or even salty? A girl embarks on an aromatic journey of love, stimulating her taste buds to the point of climax. With all senses, she explores the various forms love can take on. “Love is as diverse as our sense of taste”. CLICK HERE – and see full info and more pics of the film! |
Make love to me as if it’s the first time you fucked me after we met.
I know things about you that you aren’t capable of knowing.
Some, many times I crawled back to us,
You pretended that emotion no longer bind us, and we’re not allowed to have sex.
Every time I see you I force myself not look at the watch,
Because time stops and besides we’re not right for each,
This is practice for new people we might meet down the road.
I can count things, that hold you back, up to a hundred,
Faster than my pretend-luxury car goes zero to sixty.
I won’t ever be able to tell you the words that will save your life,
If I whisper them into your ear, you won’t hear me.
I no longer fear rejection and lie to myself about things that give me anxiety,
So that fake me will made into the man I always I wanted to be.
It’s make-belief, but it soothes my chapped lips and bruised ego.
by Cynthia Hilston
How many of you remember the dreaded research papers you had to write in high school? Raise your hand. Better off, don’t raise your hand. That’s too reminiscent of being back in school. But anyway, I’ll tell you this: if I never have to write another research paper in my life, I won’t complain.
What I hated the most about the process was how formal and rigid it was. When I was in school, the Internet was still pretty new, so we, the unfortunate victims, spent hours in libraries using dusty reference books that served better as paper weights and taking notes from pages with tiny print. We had to write on 3×5 notecards in pencil. We needed to come up with an outline, and this was to be done the proper way with the numbers, letters, Roman numerals, and I don’t even know what. The rough…
View original post 667 more words
Performed by Carina Cojeen
Get to know the poet:
1) What is the theme of your poem? The transient nature of love.
2) What motivated you to write this poem? My feelings for my wife when we first got together.
3) How long have you been writing poetry? A long, long time.
4) If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be? John Keats.
5) What influenced you to submit to have your poetry performed by a professional actor? Curiosity.
6) Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..? I have had 15 non-fiction books published, 5 novels published and 5 short stories.
7) What is your passion in life? Writing.
Mary Mother, You are the Universe
O My Lord, we bowdown to you ǁ
Feel happy at the natural sites
Pleasantness comes in life
Feel happy at River-flow site
One’s ideas flow like Water flow ǁ
Pray my Nature and Mary Mother Goddess for my Birth
God-ness is beautiful nature
Nature belongs to living beings
Preserve my beauty land ǁ
I feel happy to adore my Nature
My loving the Nature, is my loving the Universe
My breathing the oxygen, is my living the life
I can’t pack the Air, but for my deeds ǁ
Beauty lies in the farm land
Waterfalls is the life-line
Life’s happiness is the river flow
No pollute the Water and Air ǁ
Am here in this glittering World
Nature has compositions
Nature knew its compositions well
Nature has hidden healing powers ǁ
Avoid and avoid, Conflicts and Combats
Mind vary from Leader to Leader
Hope to be optimistic for Peace and Tranquility
Don’t suggest for Gun and Bomb Culture ǁ
People in Power, can’t act fast
Power is not for Combats and Conflicts
Souls weep if lives are lost
Cursing can ruin the heredity’s soon ǁ
POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film. 