Read Poem: Living Hell, by Andrew Smith

My head is full of fantasies,
They’re my escape from reality,
In my world there’s so much I can do,
Like run and laugh and skip and play,
Converse with people day by day,
But sadly all these things will not come true,
For my body doesn’t work so well,
My existence is like a living hell,
I cannot turn my head to see the time,
My legs don’t work, my arms don’t raise,
Medication keeps the pain at bay,
And I cannot talk but my hearing is just fine.

I’m not looking for your sympathy,
No, there’s nothing you can do for me,
Except feed and wash and care for me each day,
I never used to be like this,
My life was once so full of bliss,
Then a reckless fool took my world away,
Now I lay here in this little bed,
With thoughts of life flowing through my head.
And the constant bleep of monitors and machines,
As human voices come to me,
From far away in time and space,
Or maybe they’re just the echos from my dreams.

One day I know that I’ll be free,
Released from all this agony,
And the only thing that I can do is wait,
So I’ll watch the ceiling, see the shapes,
As the day moves on in its own slow pace,
And the nighttime seems to move even slower still,
But where there’s life I guess there’s hope,
And where there’s fire there must be smoke,
So the flames within my mind I’ll need to keep,
I’ll lay in hope of a miracle,
A forlorn wish?
Perhaps,
Who knows,
But I’ll fight until I drift into endless sleep.

Andrew Smith

Read Poem: SUBTLE MOMENT, by Phil Capitano

A solar sliver flashes off the hanging chimes,

snow pockets fall from a maple squirrel highway,

imprints the ground, abominable foot.

Morning snares my nostrils,

detergent draped vapours,

and I wish for a warmer clime.

Playful chickadees squeak and scurry

while waves of flakes float by,

and in the glory of that subtle moment,

as smooth as a Van Morrison song,

free and easy like the saxophone wind,

the dark noises stopped.

copyright@pcapitano2020

Read Poem: After Eden’s Grave, by Maggie Bryan

Off in the distance, calling my name,
Is the river near whom sorrow came,
Silver and gold, to have and to hold,
The sheep is lost from the sacred fold.
Wandering and crying, sinning and dying,
What is this force with whom we are fighting?
Stronger than iron, yet under a spell,
Be careful lest he drag you down to hell!
Ensnared by the fall, every one and all,
Let us see Your refuge fearful and tall,
Though we are filthy, unworthy and dead,
Out to freedom the Perfect one has led.
Now we’re rejoicing, with one heart and voice,
The Lord has made an infallible choice,
To safe us sinners, wretched as we are,
And his Eden He won’t to us bar.

~Maggie Bryan

Read Poem: Wars of Love, by Kristen Corbisiero

We’re at each others throats again,
Bickering over the small things,
I wish one of us would wave our flags,
But we’re both so close to firing our kill shot,
And our pride will drag this out until it dies,

A product of how I learned to loved,
Maybe it’s the only way I can express it,
And maybe it’s the only way you can tell I’m in,
All of me,
And you wage this war to know how serious we can make it,

Fighting, teeth and blood,
Ace in the hole,
We launch our attacks with no remorse for the thoughts gone into them,
Things about our past always find us in the present,
We can never let it go,
Not me, or you,
And we fire the bullets as a last resort, or just to keep the flame alive,

We’re bickering like children,
Someone please come save us from ourselves,
And let us down easy,
It’s too much, or not enough,
Maybe we need the war,
To keep this love in existence,Btu is the a love worth keeping alive?
I’m afraid to know the answer,
So I’ll fire my next shot,
And wait for you’re rebuttal.

Genre: Love, Life, Angst, Relationship, Drama, angst

Read Poem: BAD SINNER, by Gladys Muturi

Everybody knows I’m a bad sinner

I can’t compete because I’m not a winner

I have made bad decisions

I’m not proud of it

I have grown cruel of it

Makes me feel devious

Going after my ungrateful desires

I became Eve eating a bad apple from the sinners’ tree

Let the green snake slither between my cold feet

How did I get good at this?

Told too many lies

Dishonored my family

Committed so many bad things I shouldn’t do

I go to church every blessed Sunday morning

Kneeling down to pray

Praying to keep my sins away from me

I’m an addictive

I must admit it

I can’t stand being committed

I let the devil in my life

Sold my innocent soul

No refunds or exchanges

You can’t trust me

You can’t love me

Nor can even befriend me

I have a bad rep for being bad

Guess you can call me a bad guy

Or a bad girl

I’m a Bad Sinner

Genre: Devious, Lyric

Read Poem: Wet pillow, by Elena Colin

One year without you and it feels like a year.
I wish you were here preventing every tear
from running down my face.
Every time I send you a message
you act like you’re mad at me.
You don’t even know why.
Too many questions with no reply.
I’m trying to take a nap
but your spirit won’t leave my hand.
You keep saying that you miss me
but you hesitate to come.
Oh, I miss you so much
and I guess I want you back.
But, you leave me here dying
on my wet pillow and with the pain in my heart.
You throw stones at me and then you apologize.
You make ironic jokes and then you say you
didn’t mean it.
You hurt me more this way.
Suddenly, I feel my cheek warmer
on my wet pillow and it burns.
My head is about to explode.
I’m barely breathing and I’m cold.

Read Poem: The Legend of Morven Mere, by Keith Johnson

 

It was thus in the time of siege and famine:

A poor farmer sold his little daughter

To the asrais and nixies of the mere

So that the harvest might not fail again.

Then the farm prospered and all were fed

So no more was thought of the bargain

Though the reeds at the water’s edge

Sang of the prize that was expected.

And Meggan, growing fair but also strong

Took to ploughing with her horse,

Coming on her sixteenth birthday

To till the rich silty fields by the lake.

It was springtime and fine weather

And she and her horse Meadowmane

Worked quietly from shore to headland

As the gulls followed the turned turf.

On a start, a milk-white charger appeared

Its golden mane and tail flashing in the sun

Its dappled flanks afire with rainbow flecks

Snorting and prancing in courtship and display.

‘I know you Brookenhorse’, said the girl

‘The mount of Jenny Greenteeth Grindlelow

Sent from the dark depths of the mere

To claim me as a prize for the tarn-hag’.

Then the enchanted stallion came up

And nuzzled Meadowmane on the cheek

Nipping the old cart horse on the neck

At which the Brookenhorse shape-shifted

And took up the plough collar and traces

Heaving the ploughshare and coulter

With such force that the task was soon done

And the meadow seared with perfect furrows.

At which the Brookenhorse bolted for the lake

Taking with it both the plough and its mistress –

And she trapped by the reins that she had wound

To the handles was dragged beneath the water.

‘Welcome my beauty’ said Mother Grindelow

‘You my drowned princess are my catch now

Take up your deathly pallor and sleeves of green

And sing with us amid the mere of midnight silver’

‘I have my prizes now – my temptress Morgwen Fey  –

And the sharp steels of the foreshare and coulter

With which to forge a sword of endless enmity –

The enchanted plough become the stuff of strife’.

But Meggan shunned the hell-bride and her watermaids

And dreamed of the bright spring meadow flowers

And the warm sun and scent of heaving Meadowmane –

Finding at last the Brookenhorse in its watery stall.

At which it flared its nostrils, reared and stamped,

Abject in its thrall to the monstrous Borrag Queen,

Now become once more an ancient broken steed

Mere knucker bones and hide, bleached by the depths.

But Meggan wept that it had lost its rainbow glimmer

And placed her arms around its neck in comfort

Reaching to her kirtle purse to find a scrap of bread

That she had kept to share with Meadowmane.

At which the Brookenhorse glowed fine and white again

Lustrous and resplendent in its strength and beauty

And she broke down the stall gate and freed the horse

Leaping to its back as it bolted for the sunlit sky

Seizing the sword of enmity now become destiny

That mystical Cut Steel – Cleft Evil wand Excalibur

Until at last they came to safety and the light of day

Where she became her maiden self with Meadowmane.

And her father threw his arms around her with joy

Lamenting only the loss of his much-loved plough

But handling with amazement the magic sword

That shone among the peaceful fields of plenty.

So in time a knight came, seeking justice and love

And found at last the sword beaten from the share

Taking it up reverently from the Lady of the Lake

Bringing her and her treasured milk-white foal to Camelot.

 

First Posted 4th May 2019 by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

Read Poem: WALKING ON THE BEACH, by Jacueline Mead

Have you ever gone walking on the beach?

Shoes slipped off, sand covering your feet
Just you walking, on a big empty space.
The wind blowing in your face.
You pull your coat around you tight;
to brace against the cold.
Arms across your body, you fold
Waves crashing on the shore
Yet you find peace and tranquillity, even with the waves loud roar
You walk and walk, losing track of time
Recharging your soul, body and mind.
How is it possible to find such peace?
When all around you is noise.
Yet the wind in your face, the crash of the waves, brings you such joy.
I love walking on the beach, shoes slipped off, sand covering your feet
Coat pulled up around your face, the Beach becomes my happy place.
(c) Jacueline Mead 2020Image

Read Poem: Haunt, by Tyler R. Martin

Abandon me
Please won’t you phantom?
Apparition don’t appear.
Abandon me
Please dark ether,
You fill my nights
With fear

Leave me
Sorrowful specter,
Haunt my floor
No more,
The way you smirk
and giggle
Shakes me
To my core

You’re unwanted
Wicked wraith,
Please incorporate
Elsewhere,
Cease the seizure
Of my family,
For that I can not
Bare