Read Poetry: Im Zweifel zur Wahrheit, by Erich Ruhl-Bady

Genres: Hope / Philosophical

Explanation/Interpretation:

 

You get closer to truth if you use your ability to doubt.

Doubt and truth are much closer to one another than you think.

The opposite of truth isn’t the lie but the indecisiveness.

 

 

Im Zweifel zur Wahrheit

 

Der Kompass geht im Überfluss

So lieblich gern verloren

Es bettet sich der Schnellverdruss

In manche kluge Foren

 

Der Wert des Menschen Endlichkeit

Schafft Auswahl im Dazwischen

Auf Grübeln folgt Entschlossenheit

Impulse woll’n sich mischen

 

Zur Wahrheit des Entscheidungswegs

Der Zweifel kennt die Maschen

Wer zweifelt braucht nicht aufzugeben

Er kann sich überraschen

 

Read Poetry: Unchanging Penitence, by J.N. McGhee

Genre: Dark, Sad

Love + me will always = pain.
Disappointments and knowledge are the results I gain.
Mending gradually yet the heart remains the same.
Closets are filled to capacity with no vacancy to place the blame.
I hate myself, this flesh never seems to redeem.
Outward appearances capture strangers’ eyes; their conjured reflections evade my dreams.
I’m not good enough; I will never be seen for who, not what, I truly am.
Perfection, requirements, and preferences overwhelm me like a dam.
Scars, bruises, and blemishes leave their mark.
Constant remainders chipping away at me like tree bark.
Beating myself emotionally, physically, mentally has left sensations numb. Damaged beyond repair; I’m an invisible shadow.
No sense of place nor time.
Just a faceless phantom.
No matter what people do to me, for it will never come close as to what I do to myself on the inside.
 I’ll return to that broken mirror forever trying to piece that which I’ve lost…..a shattered image.
Refusing to accept that part of me has died.
But I’ll keep right on coming; believing the lies.

© J.N. McGhee

Read Poetry: Freedom Of Thought, by Sujoy Bhattacharya

Stealing warmth from twinkling stars the Yamuna
was sleeping wearing the blanket of mist  . A rejected
 love soul tormented by the burning spasm of dejection
dragged his languid body lashing his reluctant strides
 with the stubbornness of his decision to  end his life
 drowning  into the placid abysmal depth of the river .
The dreaming Yamuna awakened by the vigorous jerk
 of her sixth sense  glanced on the man standing on
 her bank . Reading his mind she requested Thor to
drink all her water for some time so that the man
 can’t commit suicide. The vanished river bewildered the
man to positive thinking and an ebullient life was saved .

Watch Poetry Movie: A Love Letter To My Best Friend // Mangoes

Mangoes is a queer, cinematic collaboration between Canadian spoken word artist, Andrew Warner, and Mexican writer-director, Sofia Auza. It explores the relationship between two friends with several mental illnesses through visual poetry and spoken word.

A short film about mental illness and a couple of friends.

Written and performed by Andrew Warner.
Shot, directed, and edited by Sofia Auza.

Read Poetry: 929, by Priyanka Mandlekar

Nine to Nine… 
The Innocent face has turned dramatic bad 
The wait for new love is new life 
loving heart is in trouble 
Pleasing tears are now friends of mine… 
Mummy’s daughter is burning 9 to 9… 
 
Don’ts & Do’s is not a worry 
For me my limits are now left far behind 
Everything about you now seems to be mine… 
Daddy’s Princess is Burning 9 to 9… 
 
Love at 1st sight has brought colors 
Worth the risk the glance that proved 
I am new to my own strength 
I find nobody to be mine… 
Loving heart is Burning 9 to 9… 
 
Drowned thou still in hope 
Love for you has kept me alive 
I am gluing the broken pieces of mine… 
Lonely Queen is Burning  9 to 9… 
 
Through scars the smile is still green 
In wait of you to understand years passed by 
I am all yours as much as I am not mine… 
My Heart is Burning 9 to 9…. 
 
Its now all empty within 
Its over the idea of love has ruined today and past 
Why we crossed the path which were never meant to be 
I wish my life would be mine… 
An injured heart is Burning 9 to 9….

Read Poetry: LORD MANDERBEEL, by Dale Clement

Epic Gothic tale
A somewhat artist friend of mine asked me stately meet to dine

And sure enough without no quiver a horse drawn carriage had delivered

Me from ones abode so cold draped my shoulders cloak of bold

And unsurprised by candle light the carriage master cracked a strike

The two strong steeds did quickly carry

My bones and skin were yet to marry

Over cobbled roads then tracks

The city lights had faded black

Snorting nostrils flailed saliva

Relentless whip cracks braced the driver

Headlong fast grazed open fields

We race toward Lord Manderbeels

As two makes one as one makes right it often takes the chance that might

We share alone our own appraisal and fortune dine at others tables

When chance arose and of thine breast a nervous beating filled my chest

As if a mist or sprite dust moon had somehow faded through my gloom

A taste of dread and fiery leather

An ink well smudge contained by letter

An endless longing plagued my head a crimson sun of ghost white red

Over the fields on horse drawn wheels

Over the fields to Manderbeels

 

The stately gates my eyes did view I recollect I thought of you

Hidden deeply in your slumber lovelorn breathless shrouded lover

Inside your hidden solemn shrine your fruitless cherry lips of thine

Do speak no more laments of larks or madrigals to melt my heart

No longer shall our limbs entwine

No languished kiss caress nor sign

No lightning bolt to break my thunder

Just I alone without my lover

I alone fast horse drawn wheels

I alone to Manderbeels

 
The horses failed in such a hurry the drivers face a mud splashed slurry

He broke the reigns and bowed his hat with eloquence of streamlined rat

A murmured whisper broke my ear ” beg pardon sir, we are now here”

A step thrown down with such disparage as I descended from the carriage

Yet time stopped still, no cogs no wheels

Time stood still at Manderbeels

At first perhaps on casional morn the frost may first concur with dawn

Yet as its sullen glint line crashes sunlight burns away its ashes

Leaving lost abundant feelings time for thoughts and time for dreamings

Freezing sorrow ice melt frost ultraviolet fire bleached loss

Infiltrate the hair line cracks go forth the days of looking back

Tense the strength of hidden pleasure unaware its at our leisure

Unaware its at our heels

Unaware at Manderbeels

Now as ones psyche twinkles bright alas that God forsaken night

It had but found its cloak and cane and swiftly parted from my brain

It found its hat in such a hurry it gave no time for fear or worry

It gave no time yet half insane broke all but glimpse of earthly chains

It rattled through my bones precisely

Joyous,unashamed,unsightly

It left my body grasping leather

Wind swept hairline seeking weather

My soul would rather taste the steel

My soul slipped grasp at Manderbeels

And now I stand but steps away

I’ve often wondered,wished and prayed

For chance the chance I have right now

Remove the frown lines from thine brow

Dissolve all trace of shallow grave

Unmask the earth from china glaze

Connect the eyes of thine eyes gaze

Exchange the sallow silky haze

No cataracts to blind loves wonder

No withered lilies bending under

A silhouette made turn my heels

The silhouette of Manderbeel

Inverted night lights shine my face

Informing eager eyes that gaze

That i show fear from mine eyes gaze

And bitter sweet regrets that save

All tortures bitten from thine grace

As eloquent as new thread lace

Hello old friend,my blood congealed

Hello old friend spake Manderbeel

I follow him by beckoned light

Ascending stairs of marble white

Until ten pass we reach a door

The entrance I where once before

Did enter to the house of pain

As dripping feelings fill my brain

As tender teardrops weep with rain

And all that lays as naked chained

Go through the door let past times heal

Release your thoughts of Manderbeel

As now as sure as I stand cold

A hand shake smile with grey roots rolled

Has shaken tightest grip of bold

And shivered through my very soul

As turning arm does point past fold

To garnished splendour draped with gold

And finery from all the globe

“Come grace my table Andrew Peel”

“It’s been a while Lord Manderbeel”

 

As I stand as if to stare adjacent to my out pulled chair

I realise what now is there underneath the candles glare

The licking dancing burning flames shine like diamonds filled with pain

As I alone connect my pain to languished orchards in thy name

And prey inside to break remains of tortured souls that writhe in pain

Whilst chained to tables naked drained

“Sit my boy”, the banquet squealed

A gong banged loud at Manderbeels

The eunuch man-boy trayed in wine

Of two out three I did decline

Until my pallet settled fine

A taste accustomed to my spine,a laudanum laced cherry brine

The same I had that other time

When lips so sweet I did confine to everlasting blackened night

And prayed that she returned to light

As feelings burst the wretched plight that chase my senses through delight

The angered madness lost insight and crimsoned eyelids filled with sprite

A silver knife wrapped tight white steel

I aim my lunge for Manderbeel

He gazed then grasped my knuckled lance

“Andrew Peel you are entranced,your eyes have glazed your pupils prance

like times before when lovers danced awash with juice from poppy branch

your clouded judgement longs to reel

your smile has cracked with tinctured zeal

inside our realm we have to deal the cruellest cards so we can feel

the bleeding that the tortured seal

and turn our backs on all that’s real”

“Refrain”
“Refrain”

Her fate lay sealed

“Refrain”
“Refrain”

Gasped Manderbeel.

 

Dale Clement 2013.

Watch the OCTOBER 2017 Poetry Readings

Performed by Elizabeth Rose Morris

Poetry Reading: The Painter, by Theresa Pio

Poetry Reading: LOVE SONG OF A JOURNEYMAN, by Vihang A Naik

Poetry Reading: Precious Little Girl by Murna Safford

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Read Poetry: Shattered, by Annie M

Into the fire 
Sparkling glass, 
Anxiety grows 
Pain to just last. 
Oh, moving clouds 
Please wait for me 
I can’t keep up; 
And I’m left behind. 
 
Into the fire 
Sparkling glass, 
Growing fears 
Rage to just last. 
Oh, morning clouds 
Moving too fast 
Puffy and soft  
I can’t catch them. 
 
Everyone went 
The wind passed me then, 
My windows in frost 
And I’m left behind. 
 
Glass shattered in 
As blood drips and dries, 
Piercing my heart; 
I can’t keep up. 
 
Into the fire I went

Read Poetry: The Ocean & The Wind, by Vikky Lonie

Genre: love, passion, life, nature, trust, companions, friendship, support,

She was the ocean
Humming enchanting song
Temperamental
Often wrong

He was the wind
Gentle but strong
Effortlessly Kissing her
As the day is long

She complained of her flaws and all that had gone
He told her he loved her all along
She dismissed his words
He didn’t understand her rage
He was flawless on every new page
You don’t have rips or breaks nor tone
You are the wind so strong and bold

My love you misread what you are told
I’m only strong when you are mad
I’m only bold when you’re sad
My strength comes from you
I’ll protect you from your storm
I’ll hold you close and whisper your name
Until you feel safe in my arms once again
When you are calm and glistening bright
I’ll tell you it’s all going to be alright
I’ll never tire of your changing moods
For I am the wind it’s all I allude
I’ll tell you I love you till the wind is no more
And the ocean has dried up revealing the floor

 

Read Poetry: Midnight poetry, Chisala Kataya

Tonight, I write about poetry.

Poetry that we made together at night.

That night you undressed, your pleasures now naked and I did stare, not at the geometry that is your curves. That math that fucks up my mind.
Before I left fucks inside.
Before I gave enough fucks to know you, and not in the sexual kind. Though that is to be expected of course, but I mean the rest.
And by the rest I mean her,
like that goldfish swimming in her bowl, freely not caring about whose eyes were watching.
But mine, right then, taking in her definition that is woman.
She’s well defined.
Like those panty lines I contemplated which side to push, before she pushed me away, before she let some body else in.
But me.
My other head was throbbing to the idea of being inside.
The words eating at my flesh like mosquitos in the night, in  spite of this I told no lies.
But only that I would leave her essence satisfied.

I came on her thighs.
My seed on her thighs.
Again not sexual.
Because those seeds were my cries, tears shed because she’d told me about her broken life. And of course she’d have tried to fix it with sex and kisses.
But that tingle I felt that night was about that first time I met her, in that corner of that bar. Self concious about her weight.
She’s a medium now.
But she told me about her friends, that said she’d never out weigh her grades, because she already out weighed the crowds.

Out weighed the crowds.

Out weighed their crowns.

Her highness seated on her thrown.
That is I faced her head on, like a kid she loved her shapes said she wanted another round so she could chase away those ghosts. Ghosts that made her taste sounds,

“You’re ugly,”

“You’re fat.”

Shes asleep right now,
her breathing poetic, it’s like the crickets hear her sing.

She’s free.

19/09/17✅
http://chisalamypoems.blogspot.com/2017/09/midnight-poetry.html

 

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