Category: 2020 Poetry

Read Poem: Parlors, by John Glass

My neighbor was a member
of a gang, the Latin Kings.
My neighbor sits to my right,
but had lived downstairs.

My neighbor reminds me
of Junior, real country folk,
who attended my great-uncle’s wake
back in Bama, some twenty years.

He wore overalls, Big Country,
to raised eyebrows, even there,
a reunion, though teary
as with this shabby funeral home

that I now attend
a wake for a mutual friend
my neighbor and I, catching up
a good guy, someone said.

But Victor wore a bandana,
and liked to say yo.
It was known that he’d killed someone,
back in Quitó.
He stayed but a few minutes
but his bandana remains with me
just as Junior’s denim
too remains with me.

I crunch-step through frost to the train
in Spanish-soaked Queens,
thinking of tonight’s dusty parlor
and that ancient Southern evening.

I shiver, thinking Victor
is okay, going to make it.
And I wonder if Junior is still alive.

Read Poem: DISPOSAL, by ­Sahana Arun Kumar

You complete asshole.
I dare you to find another woman
Another who’ll play your games
And pander to your insecurities
And caress your ego
I dare you
To catch another unsuspecting youngling
To flaunt yourself
Another woman’s arm, another woman’s work
Another woman’s brilliant mind and worth
And show her off, like you know best
I dare you
To let her believe it’s her you’re seeking
Let her believe how much you care
Lead her into your heart’s lair
The heart that will ensnare
In the garb of protection
And love
That will promise and seal
That she comes to no harm
That she may never feel lonely
Or needy or unloved or small
That your shield will always remain.

And then when you cannot take
That she also is a burning fire
Drop her and leave.

I dare you
To speak on a forum for her
With her, to her
Your validation is exactly what she’s in search of
Your words of encouragement,
Entrapment
A hole that she has no idea she’ll fall into
I dare you to play the part of her saviour
Her knight in shining armour
Free her from distress
By lauding her learning, the learning you
imparted
And praise her for learning you
That feeds your own male­cious ability to teach
I dare you to touch her hand
Hold it close
Let her know you’ll protect her
You’ll make sure she comes to no harm
Strengthen it through the promises
And words and gestures of love.
And when she finally begins to feel safe,
And secure, and free to be herself,
To open her heart to you,
And let her power shine,
Drop her.
Just leave.
You, your shield and all.

I dare you to leave her to ponder
The pieces she cannot put together.
Everything that shattered from her own power
A power that she may never realise
Because you ensured that that very scorch
Was nothing without you.
Nothing.

But that scorch will burn
And burn her blue
She’ll fire and power through
And rise from the ashes
And when she rises,
She’ll know that she alone was capable
Of rising out of it.
You on the other hand
Will remain in the grip of your own neediness,
Loneliness and self­serving satiation.
You will remain
A love that can never love
Or be loved.
­Sahana Arun Kumar

Read Poem: COMING OF AGE, by Juan Carlos Valadez

Your brown skin, tainted;
scabs falling on the floor,
leaving a trail
for further inspection.
Blood dripping
on, the dirt of innocence.
Your ankles
bruised, branded,
shackled with uncertainty.
Stuck
in a web of insecurities;
with a high guard,
throwing straight punches,
fighting your demons,
believing that you
are dead inside.
Pieces of your flesh
bitten off by boys
confined to adult bodies.
As you move forward
dragging your bare feet,
with each crawl,
it is obvious
that you are on your last breath.
You are not
going to make it.
As you reach the center of the temple
defeated,
spreading your prophetic wings,
placing your gift on the altar.
As you gasp for air
I hear the yearning of your heart.
Smiling
as you transcend onto heaven
as a Salvadoran Goddess—
a title well deserved.

Read Poem: Sugar coated cracks of soul, by Taipenius

Sugar coated cracks of soul

Is it dull

Or is it all?

Let me burn with morning’s light

Flow away with seas delight

Higher than the eagles scream

Lighter than the sunlight’s beams

That are reflected from my heart

Oh, let me live the art!

Genre: Philosophical

Read Poem: 65 Valentines, by David Ehrgott

There were sixty-five
valentines for you
I colored the one from me
your favorite blue
I didn’t know
the whole world loves you too
with sixty-four adversaries
I guess we could be through

So did they all say
“I Love You”
or “be mine today
& every day
I want to be your valentine
Be Mine”

or did they say that “I
only want to love you”
and after twenty solid years
could it really be we’re through

There were sixty-five
valentines for you
I colored the one from me

your favorite blue

Read Poem: A DREAM ALIVE, by Pranjit Das

A Dream Alive

1.
Reconciliation of some dreams old,
But I have lost seeing such dreams, long back
Since days, many months and years ,
Even ages and eras are gone,
Yet such dreams emerge as wild hounds/ dogs.

2.
Tireless lake sees the oldest pale lady,
Wandering on it’s shore in twilight.
How she turns my dream scary, gradually,
With her laughter dipped in melancholy,
An atmosphere gloomy with the sad song singing,
“..home, will my Sona return…”

3.
Hand in hand, walking with my grandfather,
Crossing the same wooden bridge every day!
Across which I discover his bloodied body
On the footpath lying,
Struggling a breath but can’t,
As he already dead!
The dream grow more frightful.

4.
Waiting eternally under the same Pine
With a heart palely heavy.
Promises get broken,
Break not such dreams.
My body goes chilling cold!
May be a heartless body destined so.
Genre- Philosophical

Read Poem: Take My Hand, by Remi Delaplace

Come wander with me,
In these hallowed
halls of endless night.

Where I will show you,
Many things
of horror and delight.

Faint whispers hiss while
Shadows shift
and flit behind your back.

Tattered curtains sigh
Those swaying
shades of lovely black.

Candle flames flicker,
As we haunt
rooms dusty and decayed.

Eyes ever watching
From paintings
whose colors start to fade.

Mournful howls from wolves
Who prowl woods
Below a rising moon.

Hear them, the children
Of the night,
How beautiful they croon.

You smell so lovely,
We embrace
Before the windowsill.

These hands may be cold
But my dear,
My lips are colder still.

Read Poem: Grotesque, by Saige White

It’s grotesque sometimes.

Pumped blood that flows through your heart, through your varied limbs.

Specifically flowing through your arm.

Now displaced into tiny splattered specks on the bathroom floor.

Displaced on a metal spoon, with undersides charred.

Displaced into plastic syringes peaking out the smallest pocket in your duffel bag.

Straight and narrow.

Your life will never be straight and narrow.

Not even for a glimpse. And a glimpse this was.

Three months, and the path was mowed, wide.

Winding, in places this path was never meant to guide.

And I feel grotesque this time.

My own beating heart stretching, pulling on either side.

Asking my mind: are we angry? are we sad?

Always wishing to forgive, but those images never leave our head.

Of displaced blood in that plastic syringe.

Read Poem: MOTHERS LULLABY, by Austin Musick

OH HOW OUR MOTHERS
GAVE US THIS RHYTHMIC BEAT
A PULSE FUELED BY FIRE
WITHIN HER SELFLESS FEAT
WHILE SHE SWINGS
TO AND FRO
TIL WE SLIDE
LIKE THE TIDE
OUT OF HER
TOWARDS THE LIGHT

HER VOICE THE BEACON
A MELODIC GUIDE
THAT WE KNEW BEFORE KNOWING,
THAT WE RECOGNIZED
BEFORE WE COULD SEE
BEFORE THERE WERE LINES
BLIND AS WE FLOATED
SO WILLINGLY

BLIND IN BOUNDLESS DARK
YET UNAFRAID
ALL THE WHILE SHE WOULD SING
COME WHATEVER MAY
HER LULLABY

A SONG OF LOVE
AND NO GOODBYES
HER LULLABY
INSIDE WE’D SLUMBER
SAFE FROM ALL THINGS
BUM BUM BUM
BUM BUM BUM
SAFE AND SOUND
SHE WOULD SING
HER LULLABY

ITS WHEN I MISS HER
OR WHEN IM LOOSING ME
I LISTEN FOR THAT SOUND
OF WHAT I CANT SEE
THAT SAME SOUND THAT SHE GAVE TO ME

BUM BUM BUM
MY OWN HEART
AS IT THUMPS AND IT BEATS
BUM BUM BUM
BEFORE WITHIN HER
AS WE SWAYED AS ONE BEING

Read Poem: BROTHERHOOD, by Margaret Jeune

2.1.2020

Black clouds drift across the sky

The wind has blown smoke across the Tasman Sea

From the massive bush fires in Australia

The tragedy is depicted daily on the TV News

It is translated into a visible poignant reminder

Of what is happening in Australia

An Australian cricketer is interviewed on the radio

He says that he is lucky to play international cricket

While so many of his fellow Australians are suffering

The New Zealand cricket captain says that losing to Australia

Is put into perspective by the sheer scale of suffering in Australia at present

This tragedy is unfolding in front of our eyes

Margaret Jeune

New Zealand