Read Poem: The Courting of Death by Devin Burger

Genre: Dark Romance

I have crossed Death’s courtyard more than once,
In hopes that she will keep my heart for all the months,
For Death does love me so recklessly,
In her hesitance to claim me, accidental immortality,

What she considers reward,
Has become my double edged sword,
Every time I’ve tried to die we’ve danced through her orphic kingdom,
Before I utter once, her amaranthine lips again return me to life.

I’ve returned to the horrid living land,
Wandering lost I find myself a bench for I can barely stand,
This insufferable quandary has finally consumed my soul,
Doubled over now crying into my own hands,

Why can’t I die, why can’t I say,
That I would stand beside her every day,
How troublesome it is my hollow solitude,
Of heartbroken eternity,

For I so loved Death that I found no luster in life,
What will it take to finally end my repeated strife,
How is she so blind to how I feel for her as I’ve gone to her near ninety times,
My condemnation has reached its tantamount,

As if in answer to my tribulation, a stranger has come with murderous designs,
Against the waning moonlight his knife shines,
To commit the most apprehensive of crimes,
Thanks to this miscreant a barbarous scheme I have devised

If you should take my life, I have but one request,
Take your knife and carve a message upon my chest,
Do this deed for me I plead,
I shall give you all that I’ve accrued and sign the rights over to you.

With minor coercion, he set about his bloody work,
In finding my intricate solution, I died with a pained but knowing smirk,
Closing my eyes, I hoped for the final time,
In so few hours, I again returned to her.

In shock she saw me so freshly arrived,
My clothes matted with my blood for what I’d contrived,
Worried she rushed to alleviate my pains,
With my finger I halted her resurrecting kiss.

In her confusion, I removed my shirt so covered in gore,
That she might witness the scarlet cut message I bore,
As her gaze did alight upon my sigil,
Her lips began to quiver, and her courtly visage did fracture

Collapsing to her knees, she began to cry with such labored breath,
For unbeknownst to my most beautiful lady Death,
That I in turn did yearn for her,
And she grieved for all the decades we had lost,

I took her hand into my own and pulled her back upon her feet,
And held her close to know that we were finally complete,
I held her in a rigorous caress,
She unperturbed as my garnet ichor stained her from crown to corset,

Now she knows it’s her and only her that I admire,
For all my wanting she is all that desire,
For if I could not be with her,
Than life itself I did loathe,

Even as I bled on her, she grinned thrillingly up at me,
With my blood upon her face I wiped her red stained tears of glee,
And standing up on to her toes, with her amaranthine kiss she cured me,
Of my mortal wound and mortal heart,

This time though she kissed me with such fevered passion,
As was never before her fashion,
That I might know her answer to my question,
She pulled away and joyfully outcried Yes!,

Now our lonely eras ended, we rejoice in our finding,
That this redamancy was eternally binding,
All it took were these three words carved into flesh,
Let me stay.

Read Poem: wind of woe by Collins Nosakhare

sometimes the stars are full of woe,
only if we know how it comes at night..
i mourned old songs of spook & they forms hollow
in my pendulum
a breeze
fighting through my body & into a lament mouth
hoping to peel away the heavy stroke of harmattan that frustrate patient souls
throw away into an island
remember, i am like an open sea like a bird
hurried into the cloud of an old hymn
this is my pendulum where my tales are told a silent
drums
full of books of woe a drum of death
now who cares to tell me where & how will life begin me?
a life full of dust, i can’t remember when last i sang a song of tranquility
in a scorned house only songs of wind blows death
i walk alone on the road with thoughtless mind & drag alone my heavy mind into ribs
where i first learned how to sing songs of woe it felt enjoyable
until i realized i was singing songs that’s about to hunt me
i tried to survive with it— the sins that circumscribe me like fashion
like a photo albums
they burn and blot souls
away.

About me:

Nosakhare Collins is the author of a chapbook “a pilgrim of songs” (Sevhage Publishers, 2018). Recent poems appeared or are forthcoming in SEVHAGE Reviews, Antarctica Journal, Least Bittern Books, Dwart Magazine, Youth Shades Magazine, WRR (Words, Rhythms and Rhymes), Poetry Festival and has widely been anthologized and publicized by eminent global repute. He writes & teaches from Nigeria, and can be reached through social media handle; Facebook: Nosakhare Collins, Twitter: @nosa_collins, Instagram: nosakharecollins

Read Poem: UNDEFEATED by Patrick S. Duncan

Love is more than a word.
It is a living and breathing spirit,
which has been given to ALL of us,
as a gift from GOD.

It has infinite life,
and has survived the worst of times.

It sees no color, passes no judgement, and
displays no preferential treatment.

Love has embraced anyone who has called its name.

Although it has been dealt with many blows.
Love is still a peaceful warrior, who has spent a lifetime,
in battle with the evils of the world.

And no matter the opponents, or how and vigorous the fight,
LOVE is still UNDEFEATED.

By: Patrick S Duncan Copyright 2010 (c)

Read Poem: To My Daughter by Angie Diaz-Cervo

To my daughter, you are a Princess and you will evolve into a Queen.

Be yourself.

“Life is not about finding yourself, life is about creating you.”

The only person that can stop you from achieving your goals and dreams is you.

Never let somebody tell you that you can not do this or that. For example, if the person says “you can not buy this car”.

Love yourself a little bit more than you love your husband.

Do not let other people tell you who you are.

It is not about anybody else, you count.

The future is a print out of what you do today, therefore, do something today.

Make sure you have the money in the Italian culture the money they gave you at the wedding is yours to keep as her money and add a little amount to it every month. It is not to buy a house or a car or waste on shopping. People are people.

“You should build a team of trusted advisors, but never give up control to anyone — whether it’s your spouse, your advisor or your friend who’s really smart about money.” Liz Weston

Concerning relationship

In order for you to have a healthy relationship in the

Beginning asks, “What are your relationship needs?”

“What do you need from me?”

A lover is any fighter who believes her desires are shared by the world.

If you behave like a lover with things, you will have an unusual power over them.

You have a boy energy and a girl energy, therefore use your boy energy to make millions of dollars and save the world. Take yourself out to a concert, a show, dinner or even a movie.

Your vulnerability is your potential.

Marriage dies when one play terrorist attack against the other.

What happens when he tells you that he loves war? Run as fast as you can and do not go back.

Feel that people are somehow a part of you and something else happens: you become greater than you are individual.

You win a war “by making it everyone is not yours alone.” What happens when he is charismatic and everyone loves him, still maintain your identity?

Do not set your heart on love, your pleasure, your career you will regret it.

Poor decisions are made when people do not think clearly or do not know how not to react.

Base your decisions on careful thinking, not on the emotions of the moment.

Impulsive decisions are making leads to severe complications.

Put yourself in check.

Accept praise

Always have a plan

Keep the plan close to you

Keep people that support you

Do not give people the benefit of the doubt.

Require more from people

Deal with the truth

Play Big

“Spend times with God before you go to war.”

Luke 6: 27

Jesus says love your enemies, loving our enemies means acting in their best interests. We can pray for them and we think of ways to help them.

Being in the business of losing arguments and win relationships.

Apologizing draws people closer unless the person is not in the right spirit.

You do not need everyone to like you, just be loyal to God, He’ll take of everything.

Jesus did not use the word of God to attack the devil that is only 1/3. He used it to maintain the victory He already had.

Love means action.

Submit to your husband is attractive. What happens when he does not love you the way God said to love you?

What happens when he is overly protective of his children and his family?

Move on without him

Don’t stop praying when you are in a desert.

Be available for your husband, even when you do not feel like it.

One way to put love to work is to take the initiative in meeting specific needs.

A forgiving spirit demonstrates that a person has received God’s forgiveness.

“Whenever you want something in your life, do it for someone else.”

Make sure you are following the best teachers and leaders because you will go no farther than they do.

We often rationalize our sins by pointing out the same mistakes in others.

Never give your opinion to teens or adults unless they ask.

Let your children pick or follow their paths, remember God has a bigger purpose for them.

“Be concern about “does your life matter down here, and are you a blessing to others?”

Try to promote justice, finding cures, developing agricultures and spreading the wealth.

If you have one good friend in life, you are lucky. You do not need ten.

She came to the conclusion that the way a man treats his car, his pets, his mom and you will know how he is going to treat you.

If he keeps his car clean and maintains that is how he will treat you.

If he does not clean his car and maintenance on the car, he will do the same to you.

If he’s obsessed with his car and other items that the way he feels about you. Does he take his dog for a walk? Does he feed the dog? Does he clean the dog? Does he appreciate the person that takes cares of his dog?

Read Poem: LOVE by Marie Diaz-Cervo

I love how he looks at me; I could see that he admire and loves me.
I love how he can see that I liked him and made the move to give me his phone number.
I love how he can see that I find him very attractive.
I love how I can be myself around him.
I love being around him and I cannot get enough of him.
I love his lips and the way he kissed me; I love his face, his height, his skin why not I’ll say it everything about him.
I love the walk we took by the water and discuss our lives.

I love the way he holds my hand.
I love the time alone that we shared that brought us closer.
I love how we share our dreams and the plan to implement them.
I love how he shares his concerns and issues with me.
I love how we stared into each other’s eyes and knew that we want each other.
I love how he kissed me with such passion.
I love how he touch my face with such passion.
I love how he hugs me with his protective arms.
I love how he gives me advice about many things.
I love how he goes out of his way to find something that I need.
I love how he gives me compliments in front of others.
I love how times heal him, and he realized that what he did was wrong.
I love how he held my face and said: “you know that I love you right.”
I love the way his hands touch my back and my waist.
I love how he is so protective of me.


Marie Diaz-Cervo

Read Poem: TRUTH BE TOLD by Singleton M. Tate

Walking down the Boulevard,
making reality fiction,
watching living pictures
of tragic lyrics, enabled
by ruthless cowards…

I wait at the bus line,
wondering in these
sad times, why does
this cancer of despair,
thrive in our air…

Thousands upon thousands,
waning their existence,
looking for a piece
of the fabulous life,
yes, fame at what price…

Hearts without feelings,
our economy is reeling from
drugs, alcohol and murder,
corruption’s game name your prize,
brute force empty sea of lies…

Spurious, I’ll look for a
‘Glimmer of Hope’, as I’m
choked by the tears, that
stream in the
‘Era of Bling’,
let the ‘Truth Be Told’,
as ‘Humanity’ sells its soul…

by Singleton M. Tate

Read Poem: The Fat White Lady by Michael Quaintance

the fat white lady is no longer fat,
she is the full bodied and robust expression of her decision to see, to be and to be seen
she is, the open—self-actualizing unfolding
of her unrestricted and unparalleled self.

the fat white lady is no longer a dependent,
she is the will and the way, the empowered self
given voice and invoice
permitted a seat on the south bound bus
she suffers for those she would save
but never suckle
for those we need to watch… suffer
for those we need to have…. suffer
for those we need to deny… have ever suffered
those, who have never
will never
live next door to or lay naked on the lawn
the neighboring lawn
the adjoining lawn
licking and leaving the stains and scents of their private and
culturally curious
pains and pleasures.

the fat white lady is no longer an assumption
she determines the route—the line to be taken
according to
in accordance with
designed and designated by
“I have always found her work to be so insightful
and his words, so uplifting—transformative—humble and yet, so utterly universal,
she determines and declines the design;
wearing her costly but non-descript raiment
for meetings at the tables where Starbucks is no longer served
she appropriates normalcy and re-conceptualizes
the terms and meaning of incarceration.

the fat white lady is without color, is beyond color
refuses to condescend to or be swayed by notions of color,
having mastered the weight of weight
all things are seen as a matter of choice
(has she not been an object and survived?)
all things are seen as a matter of choice
(was she not relegated to the back room and
frequently left naked on tombs, denied and discarded?)
all things are seen as a matter of choice
(was she not all too often the after-thought and the apology–
the condescension and the eulogy?)
all things are seen as a matter of choice
(the barely tolerated step-child of preference and the preferred,
did they not refuse to let her sell or be sold?)
all things are seen as a matter of choice.

the fat white lady celebrates the once intolerable
challenging our notions of tolerance
calling to question
his-story and her-terectomy,
no longer blanketed, she consumes the bed
of roses
of equitable inequity
strapping on intent
she impales
all those promises
that were once lies
shared only by the slender and the thin
rhythmically
piercingly
brutally
she invades the hollows
taking everything but the echoes
leaving everything but the floor.

the fat white lady dances
trance dances
Isadora in chains
breasts unleashed and permitted to swing
from one locked door to the other
freedom is the illusion
she is empowered by her understanding of
by her memory of
by her recitation of
the ten commandments of the undesired
and now when all things are illusions
she is free to be
whatever we are afraid to see.

the fat white lady is no longer fat.

michael quaintance
quaintance.michael.k@gmail.com

Read Poem: Lessons by Ana Paz

What do you want to be when you grow up?
A question we all hear when we are young
When I was growing up, I thought I wanted to be a cook
I would take pride in what my mother would do
close to a miracle
To feed all of us belly full with hardly and food
I will never take that skill for granted but at the time I didn’t think it was cool.

Because when I was growing up I want to be a footballer
When I first came to England the language I couldn’t speak
but I created my own with the ball and my feet
Eventually exceeding what was expected of me
The some of the boys
tried to pick on me

Don’t you know you just a girl?
Why don’t you
pick flowers
Play with a doll
Play with your hair
Play with that kitchen set
As a little girl I couldn’t comprehend
That you were belittling and pushing me down instead
But then again
being stubborn is one of my best traits
So I did learn this lesson a few times again
Like when I said I wanted to be the head of a company one day
You laughed at me
Or when I told you I wanted to aspire to play roles where I could show
I had brians
where I could be the superhero
not constantly subjected to the male gaze
you said that wouldn’t sale today
Well then I started falling victim to social contraints
Questioning my worth
And even my reasons
Can you stay on the phone
It’s late and dark
And I’m questioning which way to go home

Then, I question my appearance
Was it too revealing?
I didn’t realise that my clothes even if it was covering every single part of my body could seem provocative and I was giving out an image that I wanted it? See I had to learn to be wiser,
forced to think twice and apparently,
not bring it upon myself
I had to learn when it was black friday my body could be an item on a shelf.
You see
As a young girls
You’re taught
indirectly
Not to question society
But to question yourself
And that’s when I realise that there’s no difference between my experience and mum always always having to be in the kitchen
But like I said
Being stubborn is one of my best traits
So I would observed and listen
Mother telling me how to season
But when a man told me it was where I should be
I never listened
Because I now know there are many ways to be imprisoned and I never knew messages could be hidden.
I wasn’t just cooking
I was learning resilance
Like waxing on and waxing off
Really you were feeding me lessons on how to wake up when enough is enough
Mother used to say in life there is no luck
So young lady what do you want to be when you grow up?
Now I know I just wanted
permisson to believe and dream
To be allowed to ask questions
To learn the right lessons
To be motivated to succeed
No matter what that success looks like
I wanted to excel
And I wanted my success to be as much yours as it is mine aswell.
I wasn’t trying to compete
But if I have to I will win
And it’s not because I want to it’s because I have to
It’s seems to be the only way that you will see my value
I’m not just a girl
I’m rooted and ground as a tree
Growing towards where the light may be
Able to give life beyond me
As beautiful and rare as a pearl and
As relentless and tough as my curls
I am not just a girl
I am a woman now
And whether it’s nature, nuture
Or both
I choose adapt but to never mould
Not even
In a mans world…

Read Poem: NOTHING MUCH FOR MINORS by Sahaj Sabharwal

 
Minors are those less than eighteen, 
As they don’t have knowledge in keen.
 
They don’t have a driving licence,  
As don’t have driving sense.
 
Minors are given just pen and page, 
Their life is not more than a cage. 
 
Holiday is not given even on sundays,
As their age is negligible for fundays.
 
Parents are worried not to get blame,
From minors they just want their fame.
 
Circumstances are same for every minor,
Parents are just their life designer.   

Read Poem: HEAL THE WORLD by Ansh Thakur

Clone, are the souls in all the terrains
No one exotic on the pale blue spot
All feels the torment, all feels the blest
All relish the windy fall, all lingers the rains.
.
Same are the features, same the binds
Of every men, women and children
Same is the heart
Diverse are the thoughts but same are the minds.
.
People of all lands enjoy the melodies
Read from the same vision
Learn from the same mind
Duel in the battlefield with similar strategies.
.
But remember, war is futile
It ills our own souls
Evils our wonders
So bear no more, stem war immobile.