Category: new poetry

Read Poem: Dear Mema, by Sienna Feruzi

I’m paralyzed,

You’re in the front of my eyes

And you won’t. go. away.,

You were my light,

You were the shadow in my shade,

The breeze on my hottest days,

The pink and gold of a sunrise haze,

You were the ground under my feet,

You were the smile folks loved to greet,

I feel you now when I see injustice,

I feel you when I see true love,

I know you are the voice of my happiness and patience;

You’ll always be my baptismal dove

And the one who encouraged me to stay confident and kind

Who taught me to never be left behind

For I am special, just how I am.

I’ll always have that Avery glam.

I’m paralyzed but I’m motivated

Because of you I’ve become elated

To have this life I have to live,

If only with you, for you I could give

Another walk along the bridge

Or through the park

Or at the store

I’ll always, always want some more.

But I’ll have the time, I’ll get the chance,

Once I meet you again.

I love you.

Read Poem: p r o M I S S, by Randel

You heard it, right?

Those sugar-coated, tender reassuring words
he once spoke
With his brimming eyes and gentle lips
That whatever the odds
Together, you will sail through the fiercest of waves
Climb through the peakest of hills
Cross even the furthest oceans and seas
Just to stay in each others’ warmth and never leave.

But now there’s nothing you can do but to kiss
the shapelessness of his empty words, sentence and phrase.

Perhaps, those promises you held upon
Are nothing but mere letters and chants thrown by the folly of his tongue.

A broken vow,
A fantasy told;
A happily ever after that should have been sealed with that one blissful kiss——However, it all ended as a miss.

Read Poem: An ode to love, by Patrizia Opulenza

O love if thou did not exist
would a kiss on lips be missed
could a heart from love refrain
and never know the joy the pain
of feeling love in every way
the highs the lows the come what may
the caution to the wind we throw
when love arrives and lets us know
a light goes on within the heart
hope begins and love imparts
a precious gift we hope will grow
if this seed with care we sow

Read Poem: Sunset Goodbye, by Laura Muñoz-Larbig

Sunset over Palos Verdes
watching from Signal Hill,
I took a photograph still life
as the fading bright blue sky
became a golden glow
and spilt red over the hills.

Still married
but thinking this is over,
this is it, for us.
So I took my husband to the hill
to watch one last sunset together.

I snapped a study in sunset and silhouettes:
tall black form imitating a spouting oil well
reaching for a lone star
in the deep blue sky above it
as its silhouette hid the sun;
and a rectangle black block beside it
with a square hole imitating a picture frame
that frames nothing
but the empty sky beyond.

In between, the lines and curves
of a concrete bench etched
near my soon to be ex
standing near a stone pedestal.
His one arm rested on stone,
one arm at his hip as he contemplated his fate.
A telescope fades in the shadows
as the sun, invisible behind the sculpture,
hides suspended in mid-setting.

I was not yet resigned to divorce,
he was already resigned to convince me.

As we watched the sun fade into the future,
I captured one last moment of our sunset days.

He looked across the basin between reddened hills,
meditating upon his bipolar future.
I silently watched him from behind,
nostalgic to the end
for the setting of our final days

as an unknown future
stretched before us.

Read Poem: BEAUTIFUL LOSER, by Mark Laurent

You’re a beautiful loser
in that red surfer tee-shirt
and blue panel van
even the paint smears on your labourer forearms
and your possum-in-the-headlights stare
add wairua to your duckling grace

You cut off those dreadlocks
which you’d cultivated for years
and the other night you told me
as we stood in the club bar melee
maybe you’d been too hasty
I liked the image they gave you
kind of piratical, wild-man, free-man
but you’re still a beautiful loser
though now you’ll need to wear a hat
when the ozone hole stretches

Like the hole in your pocket
the cell phone bill makes
when your wife phones too often
just to talk about nothing
or, “What’ll we have for dinner?”
because she gets a bit lonely
only talking to your babies
and she’s really in love
with her beautiful loser

So you’re a small-town production
short hair, short expectations, short patience
with politics, religion, social engineers
you suspect the reds and the greens
much like your father in his time
he was a beautiful loser, too
and you don’t want to be like him
but seem to be anyway
with your construction job prospects
loan repayments and family ties

You say you’re overweight
try to resist bar-snack temptation
to me you look plump with good health
but you are how you feel
and we all bear a secret image
of disappointment close to our hearts
and I can say what I like
but you have to believe
that you’re a beautiful loser.

Read Poem: bout owt, by kirky

Sitting watching Tele
With me dinner in me belly
What a wasted life
Just sat there with the wife
Mixed emotions sit there fighting
Cos I really should be writing

But basically I’m lazy
Not to mention slightly crazy
So I sit there on me bum
Thinking should I take an um
breller in the morning
Mouth wide open yawning
Cos I’m bored.

A thought has just arose
Asking should I write some prose
Or a poem or a rhyme
Just to while away the time
It’s really hard to say,
Though I say it anyway
What’s the difference?

What exactly is a poem?
What on earth is called a prose?
And does it have to rhyme?
Or not?
You can’t write a poem about an orange
After all.

Read Poem: Barabbas, by Terry Stolz

Along this long and lonely road
Lied a mist as dark as the devils’ soul
Back hunched over timber upon it
Wearing a crown of thorns as he crept along

They spared a man who shouldn’t have been freed
And took the life of our King

The eyes of a blind man could see the wrong
Being carried out by the riotous throng
Multitudes cried… “Let the carpenter die
The common thief should be freed.”

The wind rushed in
Roman timbers began to dance

An ominous darkness blanketed the sky
The clouds began to moan
Rolling thunder, flickering lights
Mountainous clouds on the horizon

A lightning bolt singed the earth
An abrupt silence deafened the crowd

Life is short as death came near
Forgive the people as he reappeared
It was over now, hanging there high
Blood running cold from his hands and feet

They had spared a man who shouldn’t have been freed
And took the life of our King

Read Poem: I was not called to give up, by Chad Browne

Never was I ever called to throw away the towel because I am a champion
Even though the fire is hot, it helps me to get stronger
I get powerful even though my muscles ache
The darts ricochet like a bullet of a bulletproof chest
Like I got Super S working in my favour
And level up, it’s over 9000!

But whether the trails from the teachers
Or the many other tests that seem to press me is like its leg day
We don’t want any Johnny Bravos who has only head knowledge for muscles
But no practical experience nor total transformation of the heart

No skinny legs who cant support the walk of the victorious
The reason why you are here is to study to show yourself approved
To remind you that the battle has already won
Because my Jesus triggered fatality ‘pon death and give us a flawless victory

The point of this is not the grades or high achievements
It is about souls and for the kingdom of God to be developed
The race is not for the swift but for those who will endure, so repeat after me, I was not called
to give up

Read Poem: LOVE, by Peter F. Pike

The opposite of courage maybe fear

but the true opposite of fear is love.

Bravery is something we all hold dear;

such a precious gift from heaven above.

But what of love? That emotion splendid!

Where hatred has festered; Love brings healing

as broken relationships are mended.

Isn’t Love the highest-soaring feeling?

Love can truly cure the broken-hearted;

all the fallen, Love gently raises up.

It just takes kindness to get Love started:

that grateful sip of water from a cup.

Love—the highest of all our emotions

Love—the deepest of all our devotions

© Peter F Pike, NSW