Category: new poetry

Read Poem: The Artist, by Latonia Sears

The whisper of sweet nothings in your ear projecting love in the background feeling something familiar inside

The vibrations you feel with every beat followed by the distant and vague strokes you hear from the amplification of it all

Turning poetry into perfection and a memorable moment in your mind it feels so sublime to hum or whistle with a certain idea in mind

Clapping hands and snapping fingers initiate your bodily emotions in sync and perfect rhythmic chime whether you are voguing or doing the waltz

Popping, ticking, stomping to something so soothing to my senses within my human state of being nothing to hide only something to give

Wont stop cant mute my world of endless relaxation and vibration the excitement it compels in the soulful part of my mind

The skatting of soulful rhythmic verses magnified to spread the word around to those seeking refuge from the mondane

Cords, lyrics, speeding up but at times slowing down to form the most beautiful serinades with stanzas and rhyme and plenty of reason

Something so precious that it will continue to stand the test of time changing more and more through every generation a new way of thinking most times

Making space for new images that can sometimes share a nostalgic inovation coupled with a new found refrain

Read Poem: Mortal Love, by Jayanta Biswas

#love #relationship #friendship #pain #philosophy #spirituality

I could never think
In my remotest thoughts
That we would turn up like this.
The sweetness of friendship
And the fragrance it promised
All the smooth rides
Would be interspersed with
Hiccups in the endeavour
To be kept tied up to the other
Once thought indispensable.
Even with defenceless doubts
And dogged disbelief
And shades of mistrust
We would just hang on to comply
With sporadic force and waning vigour
And the demand of decided routine.

If dream is everything
And thoughts are its recognition
What this waking state means!
Or this special awakening?
It is certainly not a wait
That you will still want breath
To catch hold of you
In its dubious present!
It is by no means
An impossibility
That you will remain helpless
And alone in the night.
This is within your very capacity
To keep the communication going.
To bring your cosmic rhythm
Onto the other eagerly waiting.

You very much know
Who keeps watch at the distant horizon;
Who waits by your side
Always holding out his hands
Warm and glowing in love
Transcendental and blissful.
Yet, if you feel you cannot move
You cannot walk side by side
Holding hands clasping the fingers tight–
It’s an inability, and a crippling excuse
Maiming the soul–living but paralysed.
If the vow is pure
And the friendship is strong
It’s the actions which should speak–
The dreams and imaginations
Being the roots and basis.

That we are bound by common coordinates
Time, space and proximity
And not acting Avatars in helpless virtuals
That all these heavenly feelings
Are sourced from everything earthly
That we act as mortals searching eternity
Why don’t we do all that’s within our limit!
Care for all the timeless instants.
The power of divine
Comes from the power from within
That’s strictly linked with the present.
And there should be no regrets
That it is just this world
This is the limit of our bourne:
And we are the children of this real
Wherein should flourish all our feelings–
We mere mortals–the flesh and blood
Strive hard to feel the life and its pulse
And thus we embrace love and fate
And conquer death– the facade of a new world.

Jayanta
(C) All rights reserved

Poet’s social media links:

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jayanta7177

https://www.linkedin.com/in/jayanta-biswas-9625233a/

Read Poem: BUTTERFLY EVENT, by MARK-ALAN

THE BUTTERFLY EVENT!

The Official Poem for the Butterfly Life Cycle Lesson Plan!

Excerpt

The Butterfly event is nature’s intent for you to know
sent from heaven rain for seven so you can grow,
and learn how to gather your wings to fly anywhere you
want to go,

THE BUTTERFLY EVENT

The Butterfly event is nature’s intent for you to know,
sent from heaven rain for seven so you can grow,
and learn how to gather your wings to fly anywhere you want to go,
The Butterfly event has four stages,
The egg, larva, pupa, and adult are the changes,
The Butterfly event starts with an egg that grows,
The egg hatches and transfers into a larva and it moves slow,
A larva is a caterpillar an insect with six legs,
And these insects eat a lot after it hatches from their eggs,
As the caterpillar becomes large and fat not thin,
Then the caterpillar begins to shed its skin,
The Butterfly event is nature’s intent for you to know,
sent from heaven rain for seven so you can grow,
and learn how to gather your wings to fly anywhere you want to go,
Stage three is called the pupa known as the cocoon,
Where the caterpillar occupies and lives under the moon,
The cocoon hangs upside down on a tree,
Where caterpillar’s rest peacefully,
The season of Spring sings,
In the cocoon is when the caterpillar grows its wings,
The Butterfly event is nature’s intent for you to know,
sent from heaven rain for seven so you can grow,
and learn how to gather your wings to fly anywhere you want to go,
Stage four is called an adult an extraordinary event,
When the caterpillar transforms into a Butterfly as nature intent,
The caterpillar shreds from the cocoon hanging high,
A beautiful Butterfly appears with wings to fly,
The Butterfly event is nature’s intent for you to know,
sent from heaven rain for seven so you can grow,
and learn how to gather your wings to fly anywhere you want to go,

Read Poem: Generation, by A. Brown

To have Strength to persevere
in a time filled with:
peer pressure,
envy and hate,
is a modern-day miracle.
I’ve come to realise,
that the greater the blessing,
the greater the obstacle.
There was a glass ceiling,
until it was broken by
my,
desire not to be,
compared.
There are many opportunities,
but only one chance.
Father, help me,
I pray thee.
When disappointments come,
Please help me
to respond with integrity.
I don’t want to be,
another statistic,
whose life ends in tragedy.
You have never left our side.
Your promises are true.
Lord, I need you,
and our generation does too.

 
-A. Brown
Copyright © 2019 A. Brown. All rights reserved.

Read Poetry: A Letter, by божидар ПАНГЕЛОВ

 
I’m writing a letter to you.
It’s in a maze. Like me.
Surely you’ve seen the Perseids.
Above the sea.
It’s the same with the words,
which I’m writing or have written.
I don’t remember.
And they are always another.
Not those ones which I’d like to say.
Or I’ve said?
I don’t remember.
I’ve abandoned the thought
like a traveler who is walking
to a harbor.
The ships depart there.
Further and further.
Further …
May I see you,
how you’re walking along the little cobble
street,
which I haven’t passed in,
to meet you and to tell you
the love is one.
I don’t remember if I said this to you.
In fact, I don’t know if it’s where
one should pass through to somewhere.
I don’t know if you’ve seen
The Perseids and the sea.
I don’t remember.
If I write anything else
but one –
one.
I don’t remember.

Read Poem: The Dark Web, by Vijetha Shenoy

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…
Educational Institutions are always there to make the young boys and girls clever…
It is up to us to make them accountable for their own good/bad behavior…
It is our Social responsibility to educate the children at the right time be it at home or at leisure…
For values inculcated in the young minds are carved forever…
As Aesop once quoted “It is not only Fine Feathers that make fine Birds”…
But the responsible and graceful flight make them wonderful Birds!

©Vijetha Shenoy
~ VJ

Read Poem: If this Tree could talk, by Tracy Stanley

Tall, graceful and reaching above the fray
Rich canopy of rustling green
Revealing blue with every sway

White fairy floss floats across the sky
Long, gnarly limbs reach ever high
I long to climb you and see what you can see

To see what you have seen…
During the hundred years
You’ve stood proudly here

You will remember a time long ago
When ships visited these wharves
Loaded high with cargo

They needed to stop to settle their dues
While admiring grand colonnades
And sweeping river views

When the world went to war
You saw the birth of a bridge
From down in the Valley
To the Kangaroo Point ridge

And then there were Yankees
Who sauntered into town
Local girls were very happy
Local boys wore wrinkled frowns

The gentle tat of hammers
Marked the rhythm of each day
You watched and smiled as ships emerged
Were launched and sailed away

Clang- clang, clang-clang
A local tram goes slowly rattling by
While silver birds with commercial logos
Appear more frequently in the sky

Time marches on
And you quietly watch the Brisbane city grow
And then with increasing confidence
The World is invited – to Brisbane’s World Expo

A new boat is built to grace the river
Called the Kookaburra Queen – it’s a paddle steamer
Moving gracefully past you – a lady so elegant
With skirts swishing gently – causing ripples on the river bank

But this gentle flowing river
Has a demon deep inside
Which emerges when a long wet,
coincides with lunar tides

At these times you must hold fast and firm
Onto the riverbank
Knowing calm will come in days ahead
Phew – your lucky stars you will thank

Ah, if you could talk
What stories you would share
As you have seen so much
In your one hundred years standing there

So today we salute you
And recognise your beauty
And your history and significance
In this town – it is our duty

We hope today is not the last
That we will celebrate your birth
As we know with good conditions
You may enjoy another eighty on this earth

But a major storm is coming
That will test you to the core
A building made of shiny steel
Reaching up high – forty seven floors

We hope you can withstand the pain
That will reach deep into your heart
As leaves and roots are cut away
As construction on the tower starts

You are glorious – You are beautiful
We lift our glasses to you here
May you be spared the fate of Caesar
As the Ides of March draws near

Read Poem: JOHN, by Mae Hope De Asis

Give me this. Give me that. Is that what you want?
My eyes are tired, it pierce forward. You want a reward?
I’m perfect? And I object. And you neglect?
How far you’ve gone? I’m not a clown. Oh, Hello John? I’ve
grown!

Well then, I sniff and still I keep. These hands you left.
To you John, I’m done and thrown. Hey go on your own.
So I wish it’s clear. Please disappear! You’re selfish dear.
I swear to stand with all my heart. Scream with might not
fright.

Have you spoken to the moon at dawn?

Oh, Hello John. Battle is over. I won!

Read Poem: Change in me, by Keenan Paul Petersen

The Change in me is not really about what you’re seeing.
It’s not about the person I was but merely about who I am becoming.
To notice my physical is like reading the words in this Page.
What I was looking for was a more mental, emotional and deeper kind of Change

When I first arrived here, thinking this place meant nothing to me.
Faces all around my bedside and non of you were anything like me.
Come to think about it, back in that day I wasn’t even sure what I was professing to be. I just wanted to be labelled a Me!

See I was faced with two choices, to Rise-up or surrender.
Assimilation was the name of my game, decided I was leaving the old ways behind me.
Socially different yet in some ways I stayed the same.
Through lessons learned I’m finding, let’s call it my own way.
Days pass and months go by, each day testing me to the limit; ethical difference and the terror of the unknown F.E.A.R the most I will not lie.

In my past falling back to old habits were my phases now past.
Looking to that future filled with no more beat down broken glass.
I have broken free of society and it’s mental chains.
Gotten rid of endless negativity and now I know what I see, reflections in my private mirror.
The true the real me has learned to refrain, abstain, sustain; and no longer is the future filled with disappointment and everlasting stains.

– @KeenanTheySay