Category: 2018 Poetry

Read Poem: ACADEMIC TESTS by Sahaj Sabharwal

Oh these tests,
Superflous academic tests.
No time to prepare
For entrance tests.

Difficult to store
Vast concepts in mind,
Oh how to retain so much
Till marks given and paper signed.

Bewaring that,
The examiner is not blind,
And not our bydweller
That gives marks so kind.

All worried,
Smile crease no face.
Will we get through,
Or falter in this pace.

Parents worried about their carreer
They believe books are nifty,
Smartphones are carrier’s barrier
With no sympathy.

Parent’s and teacher’s
Support and hope is essential,
In order to raise their potential.

Read Poem: THE MYTH OF POETIC POVERTY by Jay Mandeville

Being poor & being a poet is impossible. Every poet notices the absurdity of it. All the sacrifices that the practiced eye reads between the lines in poetry are not the result of scarcity, but reactions to the superabundance with which the sensory world enchants & deceives us. Only incidentally do poets notice their dinner’s unpaid for, the champagne is rusty tapwater, & the groceries they’ve put on their list have already been plowed under & used for compost. Poetic gardens, by design, are overrun by nature’s scavengers – each poet imagining the mole & the crow as allies in their game. But for all of their vigilance, the traps they contrive with the words they inscribe often remain unheeded & unsprung. Still the wily poets persist, with characteristic stubborn diligence, to gamely & unguardedly snag, bag, & expose all the secret wealth they possess – by means of their VISIONS & crafted inscriptions – tempting all connoisseurs of INTERIORITY-CONQUERING-INDIGENCE with an embarrassment of riches.

Read Poem: Beloved Daughter by Fikayo Balogun

It was a summer evening
the breeze turned leaves
into jellyfishes
ran across grasses
and I crushed blades
beneath my feet
on my way to find love.

Love pulled me
by my crown
pinned my face
to the rocky scales
of the baobab tree
and yanked my skirt away
Ice wind rushed between my legs
flushed
my will, my freedom
through my mouth
with every scream
of
NO!
Don’t!
Please!

He slammed away
till he released his poison
inside of me
its toxic glow
exploded through my veins
till my heart
became still.

Crushed berries
was my bed
dead leaves hugged
my naked body
I could feel
the sting
of a thousand bees
between my legs
as the earth soaked up
the slimy liquid
dripping from my core.

“You woke the sleeping dragon with your giggle, love,” he said
I wanted to scream
“Don’t tell me it’s my fault that your mind is a sink hole”
I came to find love
No one warned me that men had become wolves devouring
every beating heart
No one sent me a memo, or was it lost in the mail
like my soul
I wanted to scream, but my cords
had lost the will for words
I watched him
zip up the murder weapon. He laughed
his laughter flew ahead of his thirsty boots
as he beat a path away
from my bartered soul
I died that summer evening.

My headstone read
“Beloved daughter, she loved berries”
I was buried deep
on a wasted land
with no berry tree
the priest said
I died an unholy death, like
it was my fault
that no one saw that
I died, long before
I became dead.

The world asked me to speak,
I said
Words are
dogs without bites
bees without stings
kings without crowns
Words can’t describe
the injustice
that has been dealt
to my very soul
Words would buy you justice,
they said
I told them, I come
from a line of novelty
a city of
virgin maidens, frail fairies,
white hills and red mountains.
A vast land of
berries graced upon by
things
scarce and pure like
unicorns
But what has been taken from me
is my life with my soul
ripped from its root
I have disappeared
into oblivion
Words
can not.
bring me back.

Read Poem: Birthday Poem for D by Serena Solin

What I wanted to give you
I thought of as a mouth organ,
something I’d seen, not in dream,
we never dreamed—dab rig & shatter.

I thought better in the glass safe
they call “the elevator bank.”
What on earth did I think
you would do with a harmonica?

Read Poem: CHILD’S PLAY by Dan Liberthson

I play the World Series with marbles
on our vine-laced Persian carpet:
its palaces are bases,
its bowers become dugouts
where my heroes’ cards wait
for their manager’s hand.
I play both sides, home and away,
hitter and fielder—as always
no one on my team but me.

Adult shapes, fat and crooked,
bald and creased or worn thin,
edge around me,
pass through the house smiling
down as if to say dear child
you know nothing outside
your magic carpet, which
one day you’ll find is only a rug
that will take you no place at all.

But I have just jumped
an impossible height, caught
Roger Maris’ hot line drive to right
and brought it back over the fence.
The roar of the crowd
puts any doubt to rest:
in that moment I am blessed
and that moment is all there is.

©2008, 2018 by Dan Liberthson
from my book The Pitch is on the Way: Poems About Baseball and Life
see more at http://www.liberthson.com

Read Poem: yellow by Andrew Liu

sometimes you come in my dreams. i can feel your warmth, locked in your soft embrace. there’s a tug on my heart and i feel so safe. you are my shelter. i could spend an eternity here, because when i’m with you everything is rain drops and soft conversations with our heart beats in the background calm. when i wake you’re nowhere in sight, i can’t find your face and all i feel is a wave of nostalgia. it’s a melancholic tone filled with wistful hopes. how we spent our days dreaming in a field of gold. i constantly search for you in my mind. who are you? where are you? will i meet you in this lifetime?

Read Poem: A Prayer Away by: Diamantina Browdy

Although I can’t be near you
You cannot hear my voice
My hugs I used to give to you
Are memories in your thoughts
The way we used to laugh
The times we used to play
Seemed like only yesterday
My how fast times pass
There may be times you cry for me
Even times where you’ll feel down
Just lookup to the Heavens above
And know I’m smiling down
When the day becomes too hard to bare
And you wish that you could call
Close your eyes and bow your head
Know that I’m only
A Prayer Away

Read Poem: Confessed by Marianne Joseph

Genre: Love, Pain

(A Man’s Words)

There’s something about her
That makes me miss her
Everytime she goes away.

I don’t know if it’s her loving smile
Or the way she stands,
Her head held high,
Dignified.

I don’t know if it’s the way she walks,
Hips swinging
Embodying her presence
Telling me she doesn’t need a man.

I don’t know if it’s the pattern of her hair
Intricate and complex
Telling of the past,
(Present, future)
With the groove of each strand

I don’t know if it’s her dark brown skin
The naturalness or her appeal
The truth spoken to me in this way
Thick lips and broad nose
Which tell me she is a woman
In the truest strongest definition of the word

But I love her
And I miss her
And I wish
I had never
Hurt her

Read Poem: Terwa by Matthew J. Thornton

“Terwa? What’s Terwa?” my mother asked.
“POP!” She slapped me as I reached for a glass.
The thump of her hand made my hand quake.
But dry tears were the hoax and I was the fake.
My temper may flare; my thoughts may take flight.
So much goes wrong in a world made from the right.
Bumping elbows at dinner; drinking my sister’s drink,
Each time I write, I drag my palm through the ink.
Some say that we lefties carry on like laggards.
But it’s only because we see everything backwards.
An awkward condition that never gets healed.
Right Brains like dancing around in Left Field.
For days on end, we went round and round…
I’d ask for terwa and my mother would frown.
It was finally my sister who wised up and taught her.
She said with a smile, “He’s trying to say WATER.”

Read Poem by Owen Aldin

Without defeats,

How is success defined?

If we don’t learn,

How can we rise?

A thousand no’s,

For just one yes.

Every victory,

Brings a much sterner test.

Saddled with doubt,

At directionless signs.

Trapped at a crossroad,

Courage left in the distance.

Continued ignorance,

Of struggles and strains.

As we seek the answers,

The questions change again.

Invisible baggage,

We continue to hold.

A suitcase of pains,

Weigh greater than gold.

The trail behind,

Might reek of failure,

Yet in the muddy reflection,

There stands your saviour

Owen Aldin
@owenaldin (twitter/instagram).