Category: new poetry

Read Poem: I WANT… by Maurice Williams Sr

I want to share your joy; I want to show you love,
I want to share a look through a telescope at the planets suspended above.
I want us to camp under the stars; share our thoughts and understand;
Hike mountainous terrains and take walks in the rain hand-in-hand.

Through the kaleidoscope of my words, I express multiple facets of hope.
I want to show care as I bathe you in intoxicatingly scented soap.
I want to take you cross-country by motorcycle, bathe with you in natural springs.
Then, we will get cozy on cool nights while watching nature dance and sing.

I want us to snorkel the coral reefs by day, sip champagne in hot tubs by night.
I want to gaze into your eyes and take you on an erotic flight.
I will attentively explore every inch of your body, as gently as can be,
Until you approach climax and request that I ravish you intimately.

I want us to freefall from breathtaking heights and swim the depths of the sea,
Escape on spontaneous excursions and spend these times alone…just you and me.
I want you to fall asleep in my arms under a moonlit sky, by a calm fluid spring.
These moments I want to share with you in order to make your heart sing.

Read Poem: The Unfolding by Jacqueline Cullen

First he stirs,

This way and that

Nothing feeling right.

Not knowing which way to go

He moves blindly ahead

Not seeing, not hearing just moving.

Not hearing a sound, he misses all opportunity to learn.

Blindly going about his day like the living dead,

Unaware of the treasures around him, of the song in the air.

Unaware of the needs of others.
Even his own needs ignored.

Then one day heawakens…

With a sense that something’s not right.

What it is, he does not know…

Yelling out to God he screams that” LIFE IS NOT FAIR”.
How could he leave him abandoned when he needed him most?

How could he let him live in a world full of pain.
Surely there must be more to life than this, otherwise what would be the point?

And although he is awake, he still does not see.
He continues to blame others, to blame God, to blame the world.

You see, he feels that he plays no part in creating the life he has. He feels helpless, powerless to make an impact.
He has become pitiful.

Carrying so much baggage with him he continues on,
feeling more and more laden with responsibility, hate and pain.
Bitterness has become his companion;

Loneliness his guide.
His light slowly fizzing out.
His eyes blank and dead!

And then he knows…

He sees for the first time his life, as he has created it.

He sees that the pain and sorrow he carries, is his own.

Something inside has changed. No longer the victim he lifts himself up,

Creating a life that shines so bright that others are attracted to him

and want to learn how they too can create this life.

They too want to know…and on it goes, spreading far and wide.

More and more people rejoicing in…

The Unfolding of TRUTH!

Read Poem: HUMANS OF THE GARDEN by Jean-François Rondeau

inspired by George Orwell’s Beasts of England
from Animal Farm

Hear! Hear! Humans of the Garden,
Humans of tomorrow’s time,
Take heed of my dire warnings
Of the rotten future clime.

The days no longer need counting,
Before lateness’s face is shown,
And retired goes the Garden,
Its last breath soon to be blown.

We shall forget ‘bout the roses,
While the greens all turn to black,
Greyness and stillness that linger,
Mountain tips no more shall stack.

Riches that we once called nature;
Trees and rivers, leaves and hay,
Crops, harvests, and all that is ‘live,
Shall shudder without a sway.

Dark will gloom, fields of the Garden,
And ruined shall its waters be,
Sooner yet shall slow its breezes,
Nowhere for Humans to flee.

For skyscrapers have indeed scraped,
Broken sky, Garden with ache,
Fuels and World Wars, wastes and plastics,
All have toiled for wrecking’s sake.

Hear! Hear! Humans of the Garden,
Humans of tomorrow’s time,
Take heed well and spread my warnings,
Of the rotten future clime.

Read Poem: A Nature of London by Andrew G. Ogleby

Violent splashes of survival,
Thriving, through cracks in walls
And drab, pavement slabs
The City’s lungs, losing their bark,
As they choke down, its gargling soup

Pigeons, dining out on spew
Left behind, by someone who,
Had one too many, over their few
Whilst the parakeets’, sudden, startling screech,
Almost knocks small ones, off-a their feet

The Capital Fox, on the prowl,
After the wanton sun, goes down
With rats, on their runs
And bats, that swoon,
Underneath a full,
And gloriously, mesmerising,
Metropolitan moon

Then humans, who pass by,
Without a care, or blink of eye
Detached, from the very thing,
That provides, with everything
On their driven, blinkered course,
Until finally forced, to stop and flag,
Their timely, fateful hearse

Read Poem: Mending Hearts by Grace Divina

(Theme: Inner peace & Happiness)

Release is my freedom
I stopped holding on
Jet Memories
Turn in shades of grey
Negatives in replay
In my mind
I cast on the light on
Vampiric thoughts of mine
Turn them into white

Iron hand in a velvet glove
You can’t imprison love
Hold it tight like a teddy bear
Let it be, let it free, let it go

Be patient and delicate
Honest & Compassionate
With yourself

Let rays of light
Shine upon
Your mending hearts
Filter and purify
Like clear quartz

I throw away the pain,
The sadness, the guilt
The pride
The anger
& I keep forever
the love, the affection
friendship and comprehension
Wrapped in colorful sheets music
And laced with love notes

I opened the door of inner peace, love and positivity, summit hope, miracles, grace and greatness to come into my life as I let go of control, pain, hurt and the past. From this day, I will move, with a lighter heart every day.

© Grace Divina

Read Poem: OZARK by Billy Reynard-Bowness

In the Boondocks of the Ozarks
Salty caramel smelt of August
Swathes stench of rotten trailer parks
Imprisons barren mid-west dust

Feral fevered kids a hunting
For to cool; shoot up, or drink
Arthritic railroad; tie and shunting
Ferrous old town wretched on the brink

Since the cease of mine and logging
Depletion of iron lead and zinc
Nag horse too dead for flogging
Folks futures draining down the sink

Some respite in the summer heat
RV’s; tourists and campers for trails
Like blackfly plague pick off the meat
Fly fast; escape as another harvest fails

Dark currents pepper darker mood
Intolerance grinds in the daily way
Resentment bread as only food
At Senate’s door the blame shall lay

In the graveyard of the Ozarks
Rednecks dance on industry tombs
Burn brown smoke spice. Moonshine sparks
Oblivion; no life. Back to mothers’ womb

©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)

Read Poem: SWEET LITTLE BOY by Anamica Kumari

sweet little boy
sleeping soundlessly in my arms
a little drunk and a little clingy
he always reminds me
of how scared i’ve always been of loneliness
of how scared i’ve always been
of sleeping alone in a cold bed
when i’m seventy and sick
he always reminds me
of how i always believed myself
to be not loveable enough
especially when i first met him
for i wasn’t that feisty or insane
how i believed he must have liked his girls too
and he was everything that i wanted
i was a cry baby and i’d get down
on my knees too easily
you’d ask for anything and i would never say no
and so i believed he’d get bored of me too easily
for he was the kind who liked to be teased
with little games of tug-of-war
and liked having it crazy
oh honey sweet
when i look in your eyes
you always remind me
of why i’ve always loved the universe
for its mysteries so much
there’s a pleasure in loving something
that scares you just as much
and you scare me like life itself
i do not know what you see
when you look at me
i do not know why or how you say you love me
or for how long you can say you love me
for there’s only so long
you can be crazy for
for no matter how much you love the universe
you never get to stay
but oh sweet little thing
sleeping soundlessly in my arms
this, right now, will always be remembered
you taking off your guard onto the floor
pouring your sun in my hands next
like there’s no one you could trust more
and coming undone in my arms
like there’s no other home where you’d rather be
and promising me that you love me
this will always be remembered
and begged for
this will always stay
even when we let go.

-anamica

WordPress: https://atomsandvoid214945416.wordpress.com

Genre of the poem: romantic, sad, relationship, love

Read Poem: The Hot Air Artist by Roger Hayman

He’s a loudmouth and a scholar
With tales that shock and stun
A murder mystery solver
A raconteur bar none
He beats the bookies, taxman too
He knows just what to say
He lost his shirt in Monaco
And won it back next day

He’s not a half-glass-empty man
For him the glass is full
He’ll talk the hind leg off a donkey
And the nose-ring from a bull
Not knowing about a subject
He goes on undeterred
He’ll talk about a shaggy dog
And you’ll hang on every word

He sees off cryptic crosswords
And complex maths for fun
He swims ten thousand metres
And runs a marathon
He crushes most opponents
At tennis, squash or pool
And wont take any prisoners
Or suffer any fool

He doesn’t hire brokers
And won’t pay any fees
And no one sees him passing
They only feel the breeze
He never wears a life belt
Or clings to any raft
He’s never needed any loan
Or had an overdraft

He has no ambition,
Pinnacle or quest
And is no control freak
It’s just he knows what’s best
But like a raging torrent
That runs through open locks
He’s a garrulous, bombastic
Outrageous chatterbox!

Read Poem: THE DIRECT VELVET ROUTE by Elizabeth Marino

GENRE:
Social Engagement/Intersectional Feminism

THE DIRECT VELVET ROUTE

Troops know that the truest /
way to an enemy’s anguish /
is through the direct velvet route /
of vagina, mouth, or anus/
of his wife or young daughter,/
preferably in front of him./
It a time-tested war crime, that/
struggles to be named as such.//

Here at home, the common/
“I want some of that”/
muttered from a park bench,/
or as he gets off a public bus/
following a young girl./
Studies report a child-woman’s /
appeal peaks at age 13./
My mother once drove over/
a curb as a man leached after/
a neighbor’s 12-year-old daughter
/entering a grocery store./
Thick blackgirl thighs and woman hips./ She looks so grown, she /
must be grown. What child?/
“I want some of this.”//

As pirates cruise the West Coast of/ Africa, and desperate parents/
take small sums to ensure /
domestic traing, a possible life abroad. /Hope beyond hope,/
then really not want to know,/
as the dream ships sail away.//

On a nice night, it would be good/
to go out for a walk. I hear my own/
mother’s voice saying Don’t go./
There are bad men out there./
The small woman enwrapped in/
a simple green sari has been/
in the States for three weeks. A small,/ proud smile.Where is Chicago? she asks./
Security finds her apartment,/
and asks me to see her upstairs/
to her unlocked apartment.//

“Life doesn’t frighten me” wrote/
Maya Angelou. But it does./
Truly, it does. The detailed catalogues of/ violence to girls and
women shut us down./
There are no longer stages/
for girls to play at future sexual selves,/ to flirt in earnest without consequence./
Her gaze — direct, sure and unaffected -/
laughter in her eyes.//

There must be a way to slip/
our fingers deep into the earth/
all at once, and right its orbit.//

— Elizabeth Marino
Copyright 2018

Read Poem: Empty by BeNjamyn Upshaw-Ruffner

There isn’t any meaning

It floats here inside, the burning I’m feeling.

Paths into the shadows, my mind always takes,

Will emotion never truly appear?

A burning sensation is floating here.

Perched upon the razor’s edge,

I waltz towards this cold cliff’s ledge.

Before my Self, a warm canyon beckons,

I fall, and to reason I deafen.

In search of color, I find but darkness which conceals,

It always spells doom, for the one who feels!

This time is different, I tell my Self and you,

Sifting through darkness, I hope to find your hue.

If not, I may tell my Self there can’t be meaning,

To stop the horrors of what I am seeing,

To quash the rot, which erupts from my heart,

I select my purpose, and try to start.

Towards peace, future knowledge will push me,

Swimming through murky waters, into a beautiful sea.

Termites of truth, gnaw at my bones,

After I fall, I won’t be alone.

I created the meaning

Genre are: Anxiety, Dark, Emotion, Family, Fear, Friendship, Hope, Hurt, Inspirational, Life, Love, Motivational, Painful, Personality, Philosophical, Relationships, Rhyme, Sad, Willpower