Category: 2019 Poetry

Read Poem: never-ending sun, by Kristen Corbisiero

Run away with me,

To a place where the things we worry about don’t matter,

Where the sun melts into the sky,

And the birds sing so beautifully we forget the sun never sets.

Stay here with me in the paradise of our own making,

Dancing and play in the sunflower field,

And we can laugh without worrying about the wrinkles around our eyes,

Blinded by the magnificent blooms.

The sun never sets,

So we never have to worry about the night and her stars,

Or wonder if the moon misses the sky,

Wonder is the stars truly do light up the sky,

Where are you stars…

Did the moon take you…?

She can’t. The sun never sets,

Eclipses anything, everything else,

Here we are, trapped in the paradises of a never-ending sun,

Dancing and spinning and laughing until we cry,

Never noticing the stars were hidden behind our eyes this whole time.

Read Poem: Tall Spurs and Placid Lake, by Joydeep Nath

Genre: Dark

her own secret haven
a black hole of tall spurs and a placid lake
a trail there she only knew
her own mad-house
she came to cry at
muffled and stifled
her silent streams of tears
trickled night after night
the lake owed itself to her eyes

what pain filled her
and what loss marred her
they all wondered
the tall spurs and the placid lake

a night to celebrate at the black hole
the desolate queen has appeared hooded in white
the full moon shines to show her
a trail she only knew so well
they all watch enraptured
tall spurs and the placid lake

she has come to end her sorrows
and to bury the black hole
once and for all
the lake that owes itself to her
braces to welcome her
inch by every inch of her white shroud
as she wades into her own tears
what shall remain is her puffed up hood
a bloated reflection of the full moon

the black hole slowly closed on itself
as their lady whispered her untold secrets to them
the tall spurs and the placid lake

Read Poem: TOMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY, by Chidi Nwosu

tomorrow is another day.
your bird flew away,
let it be.

there’s no hunter who
never missed;
and no farmer who never lost.
it is the way of the world.

the redness in your eyes,
is enough to roast yams.
and it came from the furnace
of your burning soul.
let it fly.

i’ve seen radiators overheat.
your red eyes is a red alert.
pressure mounts on your soul;
and an engine is about to crack.
let it fly.

Chidi Nwosu

Inspirational,Motivational

Read Poem: Her Confession!, by Thomas Jones

Yes I’m angry but do you even care

Time and time the pain I didnt want to bare

All I was searching was a smile

But instead I found this list that lasted a mile

Name after name instance after instance

I know why you started to provide that distance

Fuck me right or that’s how it seemed

Not even on my worst day could this be something I dreamed

Guessing this is what I deserved right

Dealing with this nonsense our future not looking so bright

Gathering space in the internal realm of my mind

Being nonchalant to the disrespect completely blind

Tried giving my all but then again how could I

Staring into your hard blank wishing this debate would just go by

Wanna know a kicker to all of this

There was one waiting on the downfall ready to supply bliss

Different day new song a whole new beat

The new, ready to go to battle never accepting defeat

Sadly i wasn’t looking recruit another

My savior was your love but you didn’t care to cover

Call it bullshit but you still must admit that truth

Guarantee they promise to keep the issues under our roof

Too many times I heard those stinging NOs

Meanwhile it was an cop out so you could be on the go

Well baby here’s your walking papers you are FREE

With all the emotions and logics I tried sift through I apologize for not being the wife you felt I needed to be

Read Poem: The Haven, by Lawrence Mathebula

In a safe place,
Where I want to be
Living my happy days
Surrounded by family;

A multitude of hands,
Oh the daily
Hours until the end
Passes and tomorrow early,

When it begins again.

She only needs a Man.
Is she a woman enough
Grown up;will never turn,
When I need her nigh to love

Unto my crying soul?
Children, in that too
Them counted oh a whole
Lot of us, even you.

In a safe place
Accepted;undenied
Her love’s struck pulse solace,
Me ‘gainst the storm and tide,

When it begins again.

I only need a woman,
A lovely careful mother
Behind created plans.
I’ll follow it as a father

Tolerating, getting older.

Read Poem: FIDDLE IN THE SOUTH WIND, by Neo Amakievi

dear south wind

one day we will linger under the sun

my aching heart,
let us one day make music
curing all the inner cancers
melting this pain like a candle in a fireplace
like the south wind, blow me to the north
make me fly with no wings
make me fiddle the wind’s strings
twiddle, twiddle, fiddle

dear south wind
let us make music under the moon
where crickets dance at our presence
like Gaelynn and Alan fiddling in this moment of bliss
let us face the truth of our past, dear heart
spreading our souls like blankets to keep warm
on this tiny desk where minds are drunk on love wine

my aching heart
let this wind bear us up on lofty heights
and on it, we will forever fiddle tunes
we will forever twiddle off this fume
nothing will come between us
when this wind carries us away
to the future I yearn for…

(c) Edwina ‘NEO’ Aleme

GENRE: Hope, Love, Fear, Relationship, Heartbreak

Read Poem: The Tale of Mark, by Jacqueline Mead

There lived a young lad called Mark.
Who lived by himself, under a bridge in the Park.

By day he would wander around, alone.
He was lost and lonely with no place to call his own.

Mark, though, had a magic trick.
He could play a good tune with a couple of old cans and a pair of drumsticks.

By day Mark would set up his show.
Tin cans, his drumsticks, a few lights to create atmosphere, give a bright glow.

As the day turned to night and the sky began to turn red
Just as young children were going to bed.

Mark would play his tunes on his cans.
It had the sound of a large marching band.

People would gather around in large crowds.
They would gather in all weather, sun, rain, grey clouds.
People would listen, clap, sing a long, generally being very loud.

People started to leave money in a hat on the floor.
Mark was hoping one day to have enough to rent a place with his own front door.

For now though Mark was happy as he was, by day he was still alone. This gave him time to think, maybe he would add a saxaphone.
Perhaps a cymbal or two, maybe a harmonica strapped around his neck and a few bells attached to his shoe.

There was no end to Marks talent, his fame grew far and wide
Mark remained down to earth, not full of pride
Mark earned a small fortune, enough to buy somewhere with his own front door
Mark didn’t think he could ask for more.

Mark longed for someone to share it all with, by his side
When one day, out of the blue,
Mark was feeling lonely again, but now he had nothing to do
A young girl happened to knock on his door
She was carrying some samples of a carpet floor

Mark invited the young girl in
Bought all of her samples, which put the girl in a spin
Mark invited the girl to stay for a while
While he explored his purchase of carpet tile

They talked and they laughed, until it was very late
Then Mark cooked them a meal, served on a plate

They devoured the meal swiftly and then had some fun
With the meringue, cream and floured bun

Now Mark has a young Wife and several small children by his side
Young Mark is grateful for his lot
And often puts on free gigs, for the homeless, in the Supermarket parking lot.

GENRE: Humour, Storytelling, Love, Family, Society