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Flickering lights, Poetry by Silfath Pinto

A trail of Flickering lights
In the depth of the dark night
I dream of wings to fly
Dancing with the warm lights
Forgetting what’s wrong or right

Genre: Inspirational

Flickering lights by Silfath Pinto

Sparkling stars in the sky

A trail of Flickering lights

In the depth of the dark night

I dream of wings to fly

Dancing with the warm lights

Forgetting what’s wrong or right

Little girl mesmerized by

A vision of love so bright

Her heart beaming in the night

As her soul twirls in the sky

Enchantment is her birthright

She is creating a sky of delights

Soon we will say goodbye

So Why wait for a white knight

Why waste moments of pure delights

For now let’s just look in sky

Calling for the Goddess Aphrodite

Living in ecstasy before daylight

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She wanted to…, Poetry by s_andra_91

She wanted to erase the traces of his lips from her lips.

She wanted for his touch to disappear, touch that she still feels on her skin.

She wanted to forever forget all the words that he ever said.

She wanted to erase all their shared memories.

Genre: Love

She wanted to…, poetry by s_andra_91

She wanted to erase the traces of his lips from her lips.

She wanted for his touch to disappear, touch that she still feels on her skin.

She wanted to forever forget all the words that he ever said.

She wanted to erase all their shared memories.

She wanted to be able to eradicate from the heart what she feels for him

even if that means that she will never feel anything for the rest of life again.

Because it was too painful what he was waking in her.

Just the mention of his name and chills appear and all wounds open again.

The wounds which will never heal no matter how hard she tries.

She needed an antidote against him.

An antidote called oblivion.

Because she does not know how to otherwise delete him from her memories.

To banish him so he never could be part of her again.

Because he was all to her.

Her first and her last…

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The Darkest Hour, Poetry by Aline Gardine

Genre: Dark, Life

The Darkest Hour by Aline Gardine

And I’m alone in darkest hour, Between the icy branches searching moon. Somebody painted skies in grim black color, I can’t promise that I’ll back soon. Doc Plague laughed in winter silence, And opened fastly his white beak, He’s gathering again his magic powers So, stellar lights became too pale and weak. He flew and touched the roof of old gray shelters, He wanted find a helper in the night. And soon he met sinister jesters, Invited one of them to go and steal the light. And villains after erecting a ladder, Reached easily the kingdom of the sky. They stole the moon, decided that it’s better Then just to listen to her endless wailful cry. All stars they covered with black paint And laughed again, descended to the earth. Light disappeared and there was no a saint Just darkness from the south to north. And I’m alone in darkest hour, Between the icy branches searching moon. Somebody painted skies in grim black color, Nobody can’t promise the light’ll back soon.

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You Noticed, Poetry by Ivan Jenson

Sometimes
I just disappear
into the patterns
of the tablecloth
and wallpaper

Genre:Romantic, Love

You Noticed by Ivan Jenson

Sometimes
I just disappear
into the patterns
of the tablecloth
and wallpaper
and at other times
I am the floral
centerpiece
sometimes I
am the embarrassing
coffee stain
but sometimes
I am the
vintage wine
sometimes
I am the
apple cider
of your eyes
and then
suddenly
I am as far
away as
the man on the
quarter moon
taking a cold
meteor shower
a sight only
a geek
with a telescope
would be
interested in
and sometimes
you give me
one hundred
percent of your
attention
and I am
a crowned
prince of
infinite
possibilities
and ruler
of your smile

Bio:

Ivan Jenson is a fine artist, novelist and contemporary poet. His artwork was featured in Art in America, Art News, and Interview Magazine and has sold at auction at Christie’s. Ivan was commissioned by Absolut Vodka to make a painting titled “Absolut Jenson” for the brand’s national ad campaign. His Absolut paintings are in the collection of the Spiritmusuem, the museum of spirits in Stockholm, Sweden. Jenson’s painting of the “Marlboro Man” was collected by the Philip Morris corporation. Ivan was commissioned to paint the final portrait of the late Malcolm Forbes. Ivan has written two novels, Dead Artist and Seeing Soriah, both of which illustrate the creative and often dramatic lives of artists. Jenson’s poetry is widely published (with over 500 poems published in the US, UK and Europe) in a variety of literary media. A book of Ivan Jenson’s poetry was recently published by Hen House Press titled Media Child and Other Poems, which can be acquired on Amazon. Two new novels by Ivan Jenson entitled, Marketing Mia and Erotic Rights have been published hardcover and are available for purchase at bookstores worldwide. Ivan Jenson’s website is: http://www.IvanJenson.com

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Genre: Motivational, Poetry by Paul Lovrien

Genre: Motivational

If honesty were a commodity

No one would buy it.

You would struggle to even give it away…

by Paul Lovrien

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FALLING IN LOVE, Poetry by Mlaure

When nights are falling
I’m falling in love
falling with rosebuds
and sleeping with doves

Genre:Relationship, Love

~FALLING IN LOVE ~

When nights are falling

I’m falling in love

falling with rosebuds

and sleeping with doves

When morning is rising

I’m rising in love

rising with rosebuds

and flying with doves

Falling or rising

I’m falling in love

rising or sleeping

I’m flying with doves

Mlaure

copyrights mlaure

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LOVE, Poetry by Ram Krishna Singh

I gave you my love

what more do you seek

Genre: Inspirational/Spiritual

LOVE

I gave you my love

what more do you seek

to lighten the night

my beloved

let the fire burn

and consume the moth

–Ram Krishna Singh

* * * * *

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Star Wonders, Poetry by Sherry Cross

Stars
in the sky
never reply to the wishes
I make/they hypnotize/ mesmerize/ keeping me
attune /while I dream of ones lost and gone to Heaven/

Genre: Life, Space

Star Wonders by Sherry Cross

Stars
in the sky
never reply to the wishes
I make/they hypnotize/ mesmerize/ keeping me
attune /while I dream of ones lost and gone to Heaven/
I close my eyes/open my mind/ how I
miss being together/ forever/ our lives go on sadly / madly/ I hope/
I cope/ without ever feeling or hearing/ the voice echo loud/
proud/ laughing, talking, yelling, singing/
tunes still play/ here we stay/ I continue to watch to the sky
looking for a twinkling piece/ a niche
To call our
Own

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DEPRESSION 101, Poetry by Lydia Lockett

It’s hard to cope as a victim of crimes
Now my anger’s and pain is so intertwined
I’m thoroughly pissed….
And I’m not easy to assist
‘Cause I don’t trust those motha’ fuckin’ therapists

Genre: Rhyme, Life, Depression

DEPRESSION 101 by Lydia Lockett

I owe my psychiatrist $1500
I fell asleep on his couch

I don’t want to waste time in sessions
Making them laugh ease to their depression
‘Cause that’s what how I’m made…
I perform and they get paid

While I don’t have the bus fare
To get there
And I walk to the clinic
And I wait till the others are finished

And the clinician
He’s no magician
He’s a dealer of prescriptions

The agony still plagues my mind
Only this time
I got his bullshit added to the line
Of never-ending torments

Like those who commit suicide
Or deal with oppression and genocide
And hunger and corruption
And this motha’-fucka’ don’t recognize
That people are suffering in front of his eyes
But he don’t care
He’s self-satisfied

What he prescribes
May keep us alive
But he don’t realize
We need to be happy and free
However he don’t agree

On his wall, he’s got a doctor’s degree
In society, he’s got respect in the community
But in reality,
He’s got hookers paid by some drug companies
While his therapy lacks validity
And we’ve got nothing to eat
And go 3 weeks with 6 bags of tea

We’ve got a functional disability
We’re not in the norm
He’s the only one who will fill out the fuckin’ forms
We start to wish we were never born

He’s perceptive, he asks;
“Why do you look so forlorn?
What’s bothering you the most?”
I look him straight in the eyes and say;
“Refer to your notes”

The Prozac obliterates your libido
So sex is no longer on your mind
You don’t fix yourself up
You don’t take the time

And when you see a love scene on T-V
You think, “People are still into that?
It’s so passé!”
And then you re-member how horny you used to be
Just yesterday.

You start to think about procreation
And how the hell are you gonna fit into that equation?

And then you find out that someone you know just did it
He didn’t write a note to make it official
He just put the gun to his temple
He kept it simple

Charlatan doctors
Made money off his pain
Backed by the government
This happens again and again

Suffering to pay their bills is not our worth
That is not why we were put on this earth.
Sometime, somebody’s got to put your interests first

Are we just unlucky?
Or have we been cursed?
And no one understands or gives a damn
How much it hurts

I should never have walked into his office
I should have quit when I was ahead
This brings me to the conclusion
That many people think
They are better off dead.”

I talk about depression
Attack the repression
Illustrate the mind set
Redirect the thunder

So if you find out, one day, G-d forbid
That somebody you know just killed them self
You may not have to wonder!

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Diamonds Of Emotions, Poetry by S. Rachele Chappell

I got a pocket full of pains,
A purse of crumpled up notes,
A journal of words where my poetry rains,
This is where my heart and head struggle with their votes.
They may not find a compromise,

Genre: Writer, Artist

Diamonds Of Emotions
by S. Rachele Chappell

I got a pocket full of pains,
A purse of crumpled up notes,
A journal of words where my poetry rains,
This is where my heart and head struggle with their votes.
They may not find a compromise,
but in the end find solace.
It’s when my pen meets paper,
that the madness becomes flawless.
Diamonds formed of pressured emotions,
and years of tears that could form oceans.
It’s funny how when I write a poem,
I understand myself the most.
It’s when I see the words on paper,
My thoughts are not a ghost.

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