Category: 2018 Poetry

Read Poetry: 03:00, by Selah J’ne

I remember the first time it happened
The first time I laid awake crying and shaking waiting for someone to bust through the door and hold me but no one ever came
This became a cycle I’d cry out and I’d scream and I’d beg for help but no one ever came
I started to feel invisible
I started to feel insane
I’d convince myself these were nightmares the only problem was I couldn’t remember falling asleep
Sometimes I’d think about it throughout the day
I’d say hi to everyone I seen just to see if they’d noticed the change I noticed in me
I couldn’t close my eyes because flashes of my dying body would race through my mind
My heart would start beating out of my chest
Each breath I took felt like wasted time
I was living in a body that’s not mine
I was living a life that’s not mine
Something or someone is trying to breakthrough
Over time the nights grew longer and louder but I became more quiet
I no longer said hi not because I didn’t want to but because I couldn’t
My throat was sore from the screams nobody heard
My eyes were blood shot red as if they had red dye
Instead the other me was putting die in my head
-@SelahJne

Genre: Hurt

Read Poetry: Poem, by 78Poet

We walk the streets everyday
But separately

We walk through the crowd

But each on the other side

Our heads are bowed down

Thinking of what could have been

Why aren’t we living the dream?

The ones we dreamt together.

How did we fall so apart?

There’s this bridge between us

You thought you burnt it

But it only lightened my path

Now I can see clearly

That I really miss you

Now I can see clearly

That I really do love you

But this gap so wide

There’s no coming together now

We’ve fallen so deep into the past

We cannot hide

This time around I have lost faith in humanity

Cause all truths are lies now

What good is a promise

If you cannot keep one?

So we walk the street again

But each on the other side

I wish it was a different day

Am afraid this is goodbye.

Read Poetry: A President, by Latonia Sears

When I think of a good commander and chief
I envision a being of mankind to say the least
Who’s back is straight and his feet followed in suit A man with integrity and a real sense of pride for his country and the people’s rights too

He would speak directly from the hip with conviction, judgement and begin to hand out retribution. Not just be a puppet for some other teams responsibilities. Who truly understood the masses because he has really been listening to them

A person honest and fair someone who knows the difference between pride and racial prejudice who knows we are all equal and could be who we want to be because he is a true American who believed in justice and that will be the American way

A leader who stands by his people who wants the best for all of this country’s citizens no matter how old or young, rich or poor and ethnicity. Since all men will be equal and have only one profile to be To have a true pursuit of a happy life in this world that he lives in with you and me

Who always speaks for the people no matter who happens to be listening. A real knight in the role of a true king. Some one branded to fight and ward off our enemies. Yep that is what I see. My president the one who has yet to announce his candidacy still just a image I wish for in secret

A man with the soul and honor of the great ones who spirits live in silence and their thoughts are recounted with echoes of oh say can you see A person of distinction and more than self allegiance and bigotry my image of a president and not just one in particularly

Maybe one day we will see him the one with all of our best interest at hand the head honcho, the big khahuna. A man of our time who remembers the struggles before his and can respect that time . A man who can handle the pressure and not let it cloud his mind

Someone who can’t sell out to special interest or lobbyist Someone who can’t hang us out to dry with no real explanation or solution we can get behind Or what’s worse line his own pocket with death, destruction and mayhem at times, so many lies, so many lost lives

A person who knows their only human just like the lives he has been ordained to lead, protect, serve and bring through the hard times like a true leaders objective. While making sure all cival rights and liberties are observed as well as respected

A President beyond imagination the one we have been praying for together. A man who will literally carry the weight on his shoulders instead of what reality tells us. But it will remain something I was wishing for
Not exactly what I am getting of course

Read Poetry: TEARS FOR YOU…, by KG Petrone

You may have thought I didn’t care

Because I wasn’t always there

I repeat I am truly sorry

For how I lived my life so blindly

You may not ever understand

How much I cherished holding you tight

Giving you hugs with all my might

I need you to know; I always will love and care

Letting you go just too hard to bear

To continue as we were I could not dare

I know to you it seemed unfair

Not one day did go passed.

Where my choice didn’t kick my ass.

Filling me with remorse, shame, and guilt,

Of the time lost no relationship built,

Many days and years have now gone by

To say, “I’m peaceful,” is a lie.

All I know to be true

Not a day is spent without a tear for you

And to this day I still do pray

That in the end, we’ll all be okay!!!

2017 Autor, KG Petrone

http://www.literaryartsbykgpetrone.wordpress.com

http://www.facebook.com/kgpetrone

@kgpetrone

Read Poetry: FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU by KATHY SCOTT

THE FIRST TIME I REALLY FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU
I KNEW YOU’D MAKE ME HAPPY
MAKE ME SMILE
BUT I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO EXPRESS MY FEELINGS
TO YOU WAS SCARED TO LET YOU KNOW

DIDN’T KNOW HOW YOU FELT ABOUT ME
WAS AFRAID THAT YOU WOULDN’T ACCEPT
ME AS I AM

DIDN’T WANT ANOTHER HEARTBREAK
IN MY LIFE
WANTED TO JUST GIVE UP

THE FIRST TIME YOU SAID YOU LOVED ME
THAT WAS THE FIRST TIME I FELL IN LOVE
WITH YOU

THE FIRST TIME I REALLY EXPRESSED
TO YOU THAT I LOVED YOU TOO
WAS THE FIRST TIME I COULD FEEL LIKE MYSELF
AND I HAD FORGOTTEN HOW THAT FELT

NOW WITH YOU I CAN FEEL FREE AGAIN
TO EXPRESS MY TRUE FEELINGS TO YOU
I THANK YOU FOR THAT AND TRULY LOVE YOU
NOW AND FOREVER

Read Poetry: Fragments, by Pam Sears

We are simply fragments,  you and I

Once floating in the cosmos

Longing to experience unity with another,

with something tangible, something to touch and behold

To know that we are not alone…ever

To feel the exquisite touch of the ocean

Or a moss covered stone

Or the soft fold of a puppy’s face

Fragments….a spark of creation

Sent out into the world to experience Love

To experience touch and sensations of grandeur

An apocalypse bursting into sunshine

The truth of who we are…where we came from

Longing to return home

Yet what if we are always home

Knowing it’s just a thought, a feeling

Asleep or awake, always home

Fragments are all we are

Fragments of the divine

Interspersing with one another

Maybe for a moment, maybe a lifetime

Fragment of me, fragment of you

Joined through the heart

 

 

Pamela Sears….. July 4, 2017

Read Poetry: The Struggle, by RJ Britten

Genre: Personality

Imagine for a moment a room filled with creative people.

You know the types, the real creative people.

The ones who wear their personality out loud.

The ones who have messy hair or even colour it purple, and perhaps have shoes that match or

A bright multicoloured outfit catching your eye causing you to stop and consider

Why?

Then there’s me.

Plain old simple me, who,

walks into the same room,

With my plain clothes, short styled hair and a slight smile to cover what’s happening inside.

You see,

I’m a hyper creative, a real hyper creative.

If I was to allow myself to let loose what’s inside, I would feel a little scared you see,

It’s my creativity.

Untamed and wild like a dust storm of ideas engulfing a traveling caravan of thoughts,

Whilst swimming deep down

into rich blue pools of water inside my own soul as a ravenous feeder, who’s not quite content until he’s well and truly full.

If I was to let loose my creativity,

I would feel a little lost you see.

It can be lonely out here,

Rolling on an ocean of artistry at the perils of my own self identity.

So I find myself hiding, not showing off my person but telling of my being, quietly.

So maybe there will be a day when, I feel it’s ok to let loose a taste of colour, to wear a shirt that shouts loud enough for all to hear, but until then,

I’m just content to be plain old simple me.

– RJ Britten

Read Poetry: Pain is my anchor, by anonymous.

Genre: dark/depression

Pain is my anchor to life

I believe there is no truth in joy

That sorrow is our reality

The most alive I have ever felt is when my heart aches and my insides try to pull at my soul

Trying hard to sever ties with life..

Sorrow is not an absence of joy,

It is intoxicating and rich, like old wine..

It is the womb of creativity

I feel high in this low

Nothing but my body , my pain is real

All the times I had ever laughed, had “fun”, they were illusions

Like magic tricks, fascinating but false and hollow…

Pain is what helps us see through the fog of fake friendships, empty promisses, forgotten lovers, fallen heroes..

Pain is , the essence of life

Rich and intoxicating , like old wine.

Read Poetry: Wonderful, by J.S.T Louise

(after watching Lee Camp interview Eleanor Goldfield)

Golden fields, we’re all sunflowers
Dandelions, clover, and milkweed.

Dawn is passing and the soils tilled
And soon the worms of us will multiply
Into awakening the settled stardust gifted
From the eve of time in which we sprung
Into existence.

Hell’s an invisible tsunami wave
Of Constitutional burning Bills with surgical
Divided poison spitting lies. It’s here. It’s here
Knocking at our door, every hole, all the windows
Are broken. The door is opened wide
And an invisible bully is holding his joy stick —

Into the sun we shall fully see this beast is nothing
But a small percentage of men dressed in kingly
Play clothes, parading a trail of militarized
Jesters and fools, like a house of cards they
Laid down the order of their finest suits
Saving the smears for a bombshell-ed dessert.

Boom.
We threw a grenade of dirts
Mixed with seeds,
But the police took them away
Because someone in the party typed
“Bombshell grenade” on a pocket-device
Causing a trigger of emotionally robotic
Police. Help!
She said bombshell!
Badahboom. Baby

Freedom doesn’t exist anymore.
It’s just all up in your mind.