Category: new poetry

Magnet Effect, Poetry by Jellian Nacalaban

Genre: Love
—-

 Conflicting sides of the universe:
Left and right; yin and yang; North and south,
Opposite side of the spectrum.
Like two forces on either side of a beam
With the fulcrum on the center – balancing
Equating without negating each other;
Take out either of the two and the other will be nothing,
An empty subset of the cosmos.
There won’t be one thing without the other,
There won’t be this without that;
There won’t be me without you.
We are like two opposite sides from different magnets,
That when directed by some greater force attract,
Like different jigsaw pieces from the same puzzle,
We fit – edges and all.
It’s science.
It’s a systematic arrangement of nature,
That you and me belong together.
Like left and right, yin and yang, north and south
Opposite side of the spectrum,
Pre-destined by the universe to coexist,
And balance each other. Forever

 

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Lament for Cill Àirne, Poetry by Tom Roche

Genre: Save Nature
—-

(this is a modern-day adaptation by a non-poet of the sixteenth century poem Cill Chais)

Now what will we do for trees, with the last of the oaks laid low? There’s no talk of Cill Airne or its households and it’s cathedral bell will be struck no more.

That dwelling where lived the generous couple most honoured but neglected by State. Overtaken by crippling species its woodlands and visitors will be seen no more. Duck’s voices nor geese do I hear there, nor the Eagle’s cry over the lakes, nor even the bees at their labour bringing honey and wax to us all. No birdsong there, sweet and delightful, as we watch the sun go down, nor cuckoo on top of the branches setting the world to rest.

A stain on the boughs of CillAirne is descending neither daylight nor sun can clear. No hazel nor holly nor berry no dances or bon-fires nor wood for the violin.

I call upon Hazel and Enda to send the army our way: that CillAirne, the townsland of our fathers; will rise handsome on high once more and till doom – or the deluge – returns – we’ll see our woodlands no more laid low.

 

 

 

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96 written for today, Poetry by Dora Marii

Genre: Spiritual, Life, Awakening, Hope.

 I will not carry the torch,
I will not steer the solar chariot.

My eyes open – crystal doors,
My nostrils pant – in the air superb,
My lips awaken – for You,
And for the two of us alone.

I’ve been searching for the Beautiful in the Mislands
But the infinite is there, where they’ve said,
The beautiful Old, with their invisible wings.

I’ll take a bath in the perfect drink
The same sour cup of the Winner.
My fragile essences will be born
Just for You, just for Us.

And the space – just for us !
I see me flying, I see me floating.

© 1996, 2013 Dora Marii

 

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Lining of My Mind, Poetry by Shannon Laws

2016 stands outside the window, framed to be seen,
stands politely ‘til the door opens
the right door
at the right time
The future comes to me quickly

Tea or coffee?
A blanket for your lap?
It’s cold outside where time weathers
as a pacific swirl over the peninsula
hooked on peaks

cold. still.

It rains in my house.
The fire is out.
Wet paper see-throughs to wooden table.
Drips creep across the low areas, finds them all
—both the dark and the hidden.

I’m swept up into this ungraspable moment Future comes to visit.

What we desire more than seasons or weather
is the comfort of being a stranger, more so with ourselves.
It is better not to know.
So I wait.
Wait for something that vanishes as soon as it arrives.
It’s appearance not unlike mowed lawn
—the stalk of the dandelion snapped.

It’s there. We know it.
Whether we walk on it or not.
The merciless motor hums in the distance and every so often
a breeze from the south carries the leaky-green odor of grass.

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Sweet Wine In New Calabash, Poetry by Nestor Dzenchuo

 
Sweet Wine In New Calabash
How Blissful Thy Rosy Smiles, Honey
In Thy First Lob Into My Arms
The Grin Of Thy Upturn’d Mouth So Sweet
When We Dissolve In Blended Embraces

Thy People Produce The Best Of Raffia Wines
When I Taste The Sweet Of Thy Breathes
In Thy Kisses Merrily Must I Drink
Of A Rare But True Romance In The Air

How Blessedly The Day I Gleams’d Thee
In Bare-feet Thou Strut To Stream
Carting Water Calabash I Wish You Were Mine
Not? That Summer And Where It A Dream?

Now Thou Lie Cleav’d In My Love
Sweet Wine In New Calabash
The Scent Of Thy Breathes Like Fresh Wine
Recline Thou In My Promise Under My Thatch’d Roof
 

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Oberon, Poetry by Robin Goodfellow

Genre: Pain, Life

—

Unborn leaves dance to sounds

of a bell’s hymnals, echoing

through May Day’s eve.

Amongst the light-rilled mist

and through the golden pavement,

upon a shore of stained glass

sat the shadow of a man,

whose life lay blessings from before.

How many prayers have fallen from his weary lips?

Crying out the names of his lovers and beloveds?

Racing dreams through his fields of melancholy?

Giving to sweet temptations upon loveless flowers?

Laughing at innocence, with warm hands, warm hearts,

while saving himself for winter’s sharp embrace?

And yet there he sits, the Courts moving without

him, never knowing the foolishness entwined in

his heartbeat.

He loves himself.

He hates himself.

But all the same, he continues to die,

never knowing the despair of his lies.

 

 

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YEAR 2016, Poetry by Husaina Shabbir

 

This year sped by, 
Waning away like a moon in the sky. 
Exotic events took place this year, 
New discoveries were made, my dear. 
Twelve months whizzed pass splendidly, 
Year’s goals were achieved flourishingly. 
Sunny summers were longer, 
It was an affect of global warmers. 
X–mas was during winters thankfully, 
Teenagers, children and adults enjoyed it tremendously. 
England’s queen turned ninety, 
Exactly ten years left for centennial jubilee. 
New Year has arrived finally. 
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Welcome to Hell, My Son, Poetry by Justan Acre

Genre: Life

 You didn’t need to summon me; I was always close by. I have been with you since the first day you told me you wanted them to die. You hate the world for the way it has treated you blaming others for all you lack. Every step you take forward they push you two steps back. You hate because they hate you each and every one. “It is time to make them pay”, I whispered to you, then you bought the gun.

You called upon me then and I wished you well – “kill them all and look upon them as you stand next to me at the gates of hell” “If you do this there will be no turning back but remember they stole from you, they are responsible for all you lack.” ” Their names you do not know only the faces you see. The faces laughing, taunting, looking away, yes, alive no more will they be.”

I saw a brief hesitation in your eyes, “use the Gun!” I commanded “You hate them each and every one! Do not hear their cries, do not listen to their lies.” “And you will watch them pass through the gates as you stand next to me, stand next to me at the gates of hell.”

And I watched with so much pride as you stole their life the way they stole from you. Your rage gunned down each and every one, no mercy you did show You killed nameless faces, maybe some you did know. It did not matter, they were numbers, you laughed as the death number did grow.

“Time for you to take your rightful place, my son, for you have served me well. For your reward, it is here with me where forever you will dwell. ” No longer will you stand next to me, now you shall pass through the gates of hell.” ” The lives you took were for me not you, why would I care about your rage?” ” Your soul I take with me forever to live like an animal in a cage. Do not look at me with eyes filled with surprise, it is your hate that made me rise. You called upon me for many years, in your youth, it was I who wiped away your tears. I filled you with hatred, you knew no fears. “You know my name now say it!! I hear your heart beating within. Yes, I have many names, my son, but the one I enjoy is Satan!”

“I must leave you now, another soul summons me, one full of more hate. So enjoy eternity with the ones you killed, for you are all together behind the gate.” ” Yes, you fool, you served me very well.”

” Welcome, my son, welcome to hell.”

 

 

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first date, Poetry by dm gillis

Genre: Romance

—-

you should know, my dear
that there is no romance
like the romance of rhyme 
 
& not just the sound
of sounds in time 
 
but the spoil & echo of a night judged too long
when someone’s left weeping
& the air lush with wrong 
 

 

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NO BETTER DAYS SCHOOL BOY, Poetry by Fayia Foray

Genre: Life
—-
He strived to be formal but till date poverty sleeps in his pocket  
Education is key to success, is hypothetical 
Same the words: education is better than silver and gold 
T’s all then. 
Now is money? 
These are the days when economy bites deep in thy flesh and soul 
With poverty smelling in the atmosphere, 
You’re uselessly educated while that uneducated is usefully rich and eating fat 
When he was just young, he was bitten to school. 
Seeing the elders in luxuries, he anticipates for success. 
Dreaming the fantasy of success 
He ate cassava mixed in the red blood of the palm tree, 
Took naked steps in an unchanged uniform to the room of various 
During the three steps you steadily suffer 
Primary, you cry 
Secondary, expense starts 
Tertiary, ohh!, expenditure surrounds your body and activates thy soul 
You spend dozens and thousands of thousands, 
 Counting millions and trillions for those in that chair who dislike same for you 
Out of those three worlds, there is another which is heavier…the job.  
T’s hard to come by  
Walking with thy brown packet of ordinary papers seeking job 
And your drop out friend is busy tailoring money in his tailoring shop 
The two who is poor? 
Perfume walks all over him while you stink in thy unbearable sent 
After the Mighty, money laughs wherever, however and whenever.  
I bet, it even slaps the law. 
You’re sick when poverty dances on you. 
Only learn for advantage but not for riches 
Riches walk thy way with hard work and smartness 
None is weak it’s only effort, and not thy rush makes you achieve the archive 
Somehow, thy road must be made, but not when it’s over the long unabridged river 
Poverty smells on you old-boy while you smile richness you see not 
. 
By Fayia Foray 

 

 

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