Category: 2020 Poetry

Read Poem: IN PRAISE OF THE VULTURE, by John F Greene

Carrion stalker
Death watcher
No one else would take your place
The most debased of your winged brothers
As you pick at rotting meat that no others would approach
It is you who accompanies that most feared fate of all living beings
And for that you are ignored and shunned
By other birds, as well as man.

Birdwatchers seek nuthatch, swallow and martin
but not you.
They may acknowledge your existence
With an uneasy nod
But the stink of death surrounds you
And the fear of it holds sway.

Yet God has seen fit to recompense you for your ostracized existence
I gaze up in the sky and watch as you seem to float on the slipstream
The lightest breeze seems to be enough to support your broad wings
Which hardly beat as you circle and swoop and dip
A black kite that plumbs the vault of the heavens,
The most serene of all the winged spirits.

Although I have seen you gather at your carrion repasts
And once came upon one of your hidden roosts,
Most often I see you in your high reverie
And watch in admiration.
How magnificent it must feel to glide upon the winds
No engine, nor artificiality to compensate for the unnatural pursuit of flight
As men with great effort use to imitate the act.
What Nature has provided comes naturally to you
A flight of effortless tranquility
That in its grace surpasses all other feathered creatures.

A fitting reward my friend
For a life spent feasting upon the dead.

Read Poem: The Long Road, by Shobana Gomes

At first glance, it seemed easy,
I, the traveler on a weary road to perhaps fame,
I tamed my mind to think in ways one would want to impress,
But like a toddler taking baby steps,
I fall, struggling to get back on my feet.

The route I took seemed all too ready to steady that feet,
Through stumbling tears, I made my smiles just as effortless,
I cried first, then I laughed,
Isn’t laughter sometimes created from tears?

The road was long, the road was windy,
The road took me to eternity,
I wondered at some point if I would reach eternity, yes, eternity,
But stop I did not, I traveled through time, I traveled through eternity.

There were days when I thought “not a second to waste”
Until one day I realized that it took time to reach eternity,
It was the long road I had chosen,
Through much travail, none of which man can know or hear of.

I trudged with time on the long road to eternity once,
Right now, I face, I stare ahead,
I have not seen the end,
No, there is no end,
I have only been on the trail to the “beginning.”

THE END.

Read Poem: Darker than Death, by ~~Shree~~

Darker than Death
Is now a bonding,
Which was supposed to be
Sweet and simple,
Lucid and natural –
But not anymore, sadly.
It has become increasingly
A threat to my existence,
And intimidating to my respect.
There exists no more purity,
No more genuinity.
Alas I have to hide in disguise,
And wear a plastic smile.
Although my heart aches
Like a carbuncle
Filled with rotten pus and blood.
I am always pushed
To match the criteria
Of so-called “good human being”,
Where I find nothing but
Arrogance and hatred.
Where love is ignored.
What matters is performance
To meet the bottomless expectation.
Care and compassion is not valued.
What is valued is the sound of silver.
Sad, very sad I am….
I should not have to prove
What I am.
Love should flow automatically,
But unfortunately it doesn’t anymore.
All my tries are shunned,
My best feat
Is never enough.
I am brutally blamed
For anything and everything.
Strings are now gossamer
Like fragile feathers.
I am more scared now,
Because darkness looms over
My feelings and emotions,
Where there is no respect
But a bitter spin of my words.
Although I was compelled to
Express my sorrow,
But then they were trodden
Like unwanted pests.
Punishing the trust
With major upheavals.
Dead… darker than death
Are now my apprehensions.

© Shree 24th November 2018, Houston USA
Inspired by the famous quote of Paulo Coelho
“The world is changed by your example, not by your opinion.”

Read Poem: THE DARK WEB!, by Vijetha Shenoy

GENRE: Dark

She was young, naive and innocent! He was in his adolescence…
He was fond of her and she was fond of his presence…
She aged less than a decade but he was older to her by more than a decade…
She played with the dolls but he played with her, unafraid…
She was swayed by his candy treats unaware of his intention…
He had the little kid’s attention as he had created admirable impression..
He weaved his web in a pleasing way with a strong blockade…
Andthere she was, his fun prey to his worthless beak, dismayed…
The Child in her thought it was a fun game of tickles…
It was too late when she realized that it wasn’t just about laugh and giggles…
His sleazy trap was desperate for a toy to try-on…And she was a fresh and free coupon to tread on…He was like a camouflaged snake in the beautiful green grass…
As he tried but not succeeded to crush her courage like a broken glass…
She wished she was a bit older to act upon then…To break his nib and put a stop to his playpen…
She may try to forget as she grows older and stronger by the day…
Yetthis haunting memory make her nerves fray every single day…
Her heart says to forgive that deficient boy who is now a middle aged sad man…
But there is a desire deep inside of her to unfold this sad story to his clan…
For, he may have young daughters and she really hopes and prays…
That they don’t get caught into this desolately woven dark web of dirty play…
©VJ

Read Poem: Pacific Theater, by Michael Ventimiglia

I’m swallowed in soil, engulfed in a trench
On shorelines where I outlive better men.
Does that sense of resentment get to them?

As rounds fall in sand and the ocean breaks
Blood red is distilled in the tide and the wake
Immersed in the water where waves pummel my chest
My feet sink in sand and I struggle to tread

For every step that I take is traced by guns
And fire and blood fill up in my lungs.
I stumble. I choke, so damn desperate to breath
The fresh breath that stationed me overseas.

I pick the pockets and bags left on men
For whatever scraps of metal are left
With names and numbers still etched in them

Then orders reach my men and I
“Collect what you can. We’re leaving tonight.”

So many were left mangled in Earth
Their bones eroding into the dirt.
Soon no relics or remnants of their hearts or souls
Just folded flags for their widows to hold.

Forget the intent that garnished those days.
The pride and the glory of those who decay.
The flowers and medals can never repay
The honor that dug so many graves.

Read Poem: Raging Ocean, by Ramone

I am like a ship sailing atop a raging ocean

The high waves are thrashing, hindering my motion

I have a destination in mind: to it I have great devotion.

No, not any port in a storm will satisfy

I am predestined for greatness by and by

Yet these waves are getting bigger and I miss the blue sky

The storm is surging as though I am the bad guy

Getting cursed for evil deeds or maybe that is just my conscience

Playing tricks on me.

Am I my generation’s new face of failure. Such thoughts take all my glee

Some may think I am just lost at sea

But I have a destination in mind that I will get to at any fee

And it shall be, I decree.

https://ppaspera.wordpress.com/2018/03/24/raging-ocean/

Read Poem: False Promises: A Tale of the Past Betrayal, by Jane Smith

(Genre: Painful, Betrayal, Love, Relationships)

(unpublished in Candidthoughtsofawriter.wordpress.com)

Where are you now?
Where are your promises?
Didn’t you remember I was your princess?
Why you didn’t fight for me even just a little?
I didn’t know we were two in the process
You just left me hanging with those false promises
Blind folded with your caress
I was not aware of your game to satisfy your ego
You left me no choice but to let go
Sweet lies you’ve given me
Are the same kisses from hell to break me
And the touch that seemed like forever
Was nothing but a faded embrace
As if I was a loser
Do you know that agony of losing you
Is like a screaming brain with no sound?
Like a deep wounded flesh drowned in alcohol
A darkness no one could ever describe
Could you tell me who your bride is?
If only I knew from the start
That hidden engagement you never said
To get your selfish needs
Oh, I forgot men are men
I shouldn’t have fallen
All I ever thought was your happiness
You’ve just thrown the heart that’s beating for you and it’s now at rest
But things were meant to happen the way they were
Maybe this is justice, a cycle that must end
You and I were not meant
Because you chose her
And you chose to leave me
Now I thank you
I’m choosing this pain to end.

Read Poem: Singles Awareness Day, by Hiker Angel

Categories: Love, Hurt, Painful

The Darkest heart of winter’s chill
chokes out the hollow monstrous day,
its tendrils slithering to fill.

Rapacious, snaking, gasping gill,
in waters deep where wicked prey,
the Darkest heart of winter’s chill.

Its teeth plunge, victim’s cries so shrill
with lurching, wheezing, rending play,
its tendrils slithering to fill.

Her movement stops, it has its swill
the nasty piper sucks its pay,
the Darkest heart of winter’s chill.

Vestigial quarry’s heat distill,
blood’s dulling red becoming gray,
its tendrils slithering to fill.

Her hope to wed, its gleeful kill,
this Valentine’s, fourteenth long day,
the Darkest heart of winter’s chill,
its tendrils slithering to fill.

Villanelle
Rhyme: A1 b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2
Meter: iambic tetrameter

Read Poem: Cold, by Linda Jordan

Stealing along a darkened road; it’s path crooked
Fleeting around trees, leaves shivering in its wake, grass frozen mid-bow in homage
Inspecting, watchful, it’s purpose clear
A lone traveler comes; hungry for warmth
A house in the darkness; to the porch, peeking into windows; a door ajar
Cold sees an opportunity
Leaning in like a party guest offering unwanted advice, seizing the moment to enter
Quickly occupying every nook and cranny; nesting, rooting,
Inching forward through every carelessly cracked window, down every open chimney flue
Seeping along the floor, hugging corners
Inspecting cupboards, trying on boots and gloves
Filling closets and testing bed sheets; searching
Halting in a darkened corner, cold utters a sigh; glittery breath frosting windows in the vacant night
Uninvited visitor, unwelcome guest in the quiet
Faintly, the sound of voices tug at the fringes of its weary consciousness;
Lights flicker on interrupting its blue reverie; the rising sound of laughter assaults it’s crude senses
Suddenly feeling exposed, resolve melting, Cold hurriedly gathers it’s things, shoulder’s its frosty rucksack, and dissolves into the baseboards and walls, hiding
Whispering down halls, tendrils collecting its belongings along the way, cold escapes out the door as a warm body enters, door shut rudely at it’s back
Indignant and disheveled, Cold collects itself, shrugs its pack into place, and starts once again down the road trailing winter behind it

Read Poem: Can’t you see?, by Mary V. Saenko

Title: Can’t you see?
Author: Mary V. Saenko
Genre(s): dark, long, sad, painful, hurt, life

I want to be liked.
When I look at myself in the mirror,
All I feel is shame.
I am ashamed of what I look like,
But more than anything,
I am ashamed of who I’ve always been on the inside.
I am ashamed when I open my mouth,
Why do I have to speak?
Can’t you see?
I, too, don’t want to be this annoying!
I can’t help but say stupid things,
Why can’t I shut up?
Why can’t I just be like everyone else?
I don’t want to be me.
I want to be someone else, somebody just like everyone.
You can tell, can’t you?
That I really want you to like me,
Really want you to like me so I can like me too.
This desperation is pathetic,
Irritating,
Repelling,
Appalling,
Disgusting.
Let’s stick two fingers down my throat,
So that maybe yesterday’s bottled up regrets after yet another failed conversation
Will come out
Along with today’s special course:
18-years-worth-of-self-loathing mucus
Clogging my throat and my ears and my head and you,
Do you gag like me?
My tragic attempt to be friendly and likable
Does nothing but highlight my obnoxiousness.
Its filthy.
Does it make you gag, too?
Just say it already!
You hate me, don’t you?
Your words can’t hurt me.
You see, the overwhelming desire to dissapear
Is already my dearest companion;
Its hobbies are joining clubs
Just to feel like you don’t fit in,
Listening to sad songs
Just to cry,
Attending events
Just to feel unwelcome,
And by far, my favorite,
Talking to people who you hope are your friends,
Who you want to connect to,
Who you wish you were,
Just to feel unwanted,
Just to be unwanted,
Just to be alone.
Just to always approach others to start a conversation.
Just to go home by yourself on the last day of school.
Just to squeeze right in the corner of that group photo.
Just to avert eye contact knowing you will always be picked last for a project.
Just to know that if you weren’t here, everyone would be happier.
You ruin everything.
“Why did you show up?”
Can’t you read the room?
Nobody wants you here.
I don’t want to be here.
I just want to be liked.
Will someone else ever like me
When even I don’t like myself?
I can already tell what you are thinking,
Don’t worry, I won’t make you say it out loud.
But it doesn’t bother me,
I think this is something we can both agree on.
And if you say “I don’t like you,”
I will laugh
“Check mate!”
Because in this game, I always have the high ground.
And if you say “I hate you,”
I will exclaim
“Me too!”
If hating yourself is an art,
Well then call me Picasso,
For nobody can hate me
As much as I hate myself.