Category: poem

Loving Our Blue Earth, Poetry by Betsy Brandt

Love spoke and made our blue earth, not to be the center of the universe, but its muse,

Love spoke and made our blue earth the third rock from the sun, Terra, solid, drifting, with vibrant, exploding life,

Genre: Life, Society, Love

Loving Our Blue Earth
By Betsy Brandt

Love spoke and made our blue earth, not to be the center of the universe, but its muse,

Love spoke and made our blue earth the third rock from the sun, Terra, solid, drifting, with vibrant, exploding life,

Love spoke and made the third rock spin and circle around the sun, with a tilt Terra spins, making seasons abound, arrays of colors bursting,

Love spoke and made Luna, dazzling sister to our blue earth, tugging, teasing our waters, one declared we’d often visit, just because,

Love spoke and made our sun, stunningly rise and fall peacefully for our blue earth, but no, Love gently spins and turns Terra to the East each day,

Love spoke and made our sun, Helios, our brightest Hero Star, one we could ever follow, never floating away, like Love itself,

Love spoke and made our Star give our blue earth, light, life, our sight, warmth- just right, boundless energy, gratefully received,

Love spoke and made our blue earth ride in the Galaxy of Milky Way, majestic spiral,
glowing band, heavenly teeming of kinship,

Love spoke and made Love to be written in the Sky, never alone, designed, evolving,
sustained harmony, loving our blue earth, gracefully conceived for Love.

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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Shoddy Bar, Poetry by Madathil Rajendran Nair

Genre: Addiction

Shoddy Bar
by Madathil Rajendran Nair

They sat facing one another
Inside the shoddy bar
Swarthy figures
Like in American cartoons
Their visages waxen
Looks distant
Cadaverous blank

The figures of Jesus On The Cross
His pain lighted
By a low watt crimson bulb
Smiling Lord Ganesh
Granting boons
With burnt-out incense sticks
Before him
Presided over the scene

Each had a burden
Perhaps the dejection
Due to cruel rejection
Of the past to bury
Or a long-lost love
A broken wedlock
Death of a sweet-heart
A broken heart of some sort

They sat
Puffing at their fags
Or beedis
Or whatever they had
The glow at the tip
Of what they smoked
Said it all
The burn that rued their hearts

Aches of the like
The winds of the plains
Could hardly hope to soothe
Angst, the wisdom
Of the silent mounts around
Could ever undo

They sat puffing and drinking
In silence at the cacophonous bar
Shoddy, dilapidated
Infested with flies
Flying insects and mice

Dreaming they could once again
Sit with their kids
Under hurricane lamps
Late into the night
Helping them with their lessons
As the clouds rumbled
On distant mountain tops

As their wives garnished
Some favourite dish
In smoky kitchens unlit
Wiping burning eyes
With greying sari tips

Later to return
To their late night beds
To grant midnight warmth
Of sweat and love
That made the nights
More odoriferous
Than the incense burnt
Before indifferent Gods

They longed and longed
As every drink sank
Into their burning core
To return to the shores of love afar
As the world outside brimmed
Calling them drunkards

Refusing to grant
There are addictions of sorts
Religion, power and fads
Women, avarice, greed
That ruined humankind
More than the drinks
The entire humanity drank

With their glasses emptied
They would now decamp
Like moths fleeing a dying lamp
Into the night’s waiting arms
To the big bar under the shimmering stars
Where the cups are full again
With tears frothing in grief and pain

Where they would lie wide awake
After a fitful nap past midnight
On their unkempt beds like dried-up twigs
To roll and roll alone in pain
Sob and cry again in vain
And sing to far off receding plains
Where their solace hidden, remains

 

 

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To love a life, Poetry by Christopher Hughes

Eccentric maybe…but I know that I’m in love but my demons they torture me. My Love. Have you ever closed your eyes and just pictured bliss. Or even better yet dear love; closed your eyes and seen shear terror amidst your bliss? To love unconditionally, my soul? My dear and sweet heart. My soul tear at me, yet I can not find the person to fill my void. I’m trying to love myself. But where can this love come from if it has literally died and dried up from my life.

Genres: Love and depression

To love a life
by Christopher Hughes

My Love? How dare I address you so?

Or maybe I’m the crazy one…

Eccentric maybe…but I know that I’m in love but my demons they torture me. My Love. Have you ever closed your eyes and just pictured bliss. Or even better yet dear love; closed your eyes and seen shear terror amidst your bliss? To love unconditionally, my soul? My dear and sweet heart. My soul tear at me, yet I can not find the person to fill my void. I’m trying to love myself. But where can this love come from if it has literally died and dried up from my life.

It’s quite painstaking…to say the very least. Your soul has left your body and yet what do you do?? Your yesterdays are gone. You can’t take them back. Your heart yearns and begs forgiveness yet you never get any. Do you really deserve forgiveness? Or should you just continue to beg?

I try to keep my head high and be hopeful, but finding a love and losing it is a hard one.

What is love?

To me it means this: Giving yourself unconditionally to someone and despite their faults and failures…you accept them unconditionally. Yet I have failed the ultimate sin of infidelity. Oh my heart and soul…how you torment me.

First we must dig within ourselves to love ourselves.

 

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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That Monster, Poetry by Xiomara Colon

For every girl that has been touched the wrong way. For every girl that lives in shame everyday. For every girl that can’t find a way out.

This poem is a motivational and painful poem for women who were molested physically and is being haunted by the event.

That Monster
by Xiomara Colon

For every girl that has been touched the wrong way. For every girl that lives in shame everyday. For every girl that can’t find a way out. For every girl that tried to shout to get away from all the pain caused by someone taking advantage of the voulnerable frame. For all girls that are too afraid to tell, who’s self respect was once high but with that violation fell. For every girl that cries at night recalling that monster that took what he wanted without a fight. It wasn’t your fault so stop living in shame. Remember ma nothing ever happens in rain. Speak out and yell for help, because your a survivor no longer a victim. No, you’ve become wiser. You have more strength than what you see. Don’t lock it up mama just let it be free. He molested your body and broke you down; made you a joke for everyone to clown. Don’t let him take your body and soul. What’s yours is still yours, so take back control.

 

 

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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BEST MUSE, Poetry by Lilian C Misoy

So many notes written,
About a muse unforgotten ,
Both beautiful and dark,
Most so deep, enough to leave a mark,

Genre: Love

Best Muse

So many notes written,
About a muse unforgotten ,
Both beautiful and dark,
Most so deep, enough to leave a mark,

Yet,
He still writes about her,
His angel ,so close yet so far,
He might at times change his flow,
Finding another beau to adore,

But still she remains,
His favourite tale even in chains,
For she may be locked away,
In his vault all year every day,

But,
In his mind alive she will remain,
A love he might have loved in vain,
And always she’s his main,
Breathing , living ,keeping him sane.

By Lilian C Misoy
254 (Kenya)

 

 

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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MASOCHISTS, by Poetry by Kyle Jones

Your masters,
sick;
masochists.
Savages wrapped
in lavish masks,

Genre: Dark, Rhythmic, Deep

Masochists
by Kyle Jones

Your masters,
sick;
masochists.
Savages wrapped
in lavish masks,
the past unraveled it.
We’ve traveled
backwards,
cataract contact,
laughs with
con-act actors.
Intact cause our dad’s
dads were bastards.
We backtracked paths
and sat on past answers.
Planned for the damned
and we laughed at disaster.

 

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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My First Love Letter, Poetry by Madathil Rajendran Nair

I don’t know, I can’t tell

But there was she

My classmate

With jasmine teeth

A dance perched on her feet

Bothering my budding masculinity

Genre: Love

My First Love Letter
by Madathil Rajendran Nair

 

It was when I was just in class three

Hovering around the tenth year of age

Something bothered me in the hours wee

A sweetness, an aroma, sweat

Or was it the morning dew on grass

That kept me awake

Rolling on my smelly bed

With a sweetness that blazed my glands

 

I don’t know, I can’t tell

But there was she

My classmate

With jasmine teeth

A dance perched on her feet

Bothering my budding masculinity

 

I knew I wanted her

I couldn’t make out what for

In a frenzy that engulfed me

Like a forest fire then I wrote

On the inside of a discarded cigarette pack

Slit open like a bleeding heart

What I felt, the first love letter

In words that moved like ants

All over me and my heart

 

I handed it to her brother

Two years younger

In secret, behind the school toilet yonder

Hoping it would reach and vanquish her

 

But, there was the maths teacher

Fondling his scorpion tail moustache

Watching the goings-on

Who intercepted the missive

From the hands of the shivering brother

 

I thought I was in for hell

Punishment, beatings, no one can tell

But nothing happened to my surprise

Till at last I noticed

The school headmistress at my fence

In a rare bosom chat with my mom, her friend

 

I was playing behind my house

Rolling stones in the setting sun

Like a forlorn Ulysses adorned in sweat

Yet I knew I was their subject

 

Days passed and Diwali came

The Indian festival of lights

It was time for the early morning bath

Under the glistening stars

My mom poured warm water over me from a tub

And I misbehaved in a gleeful jump

She cautioned and slapped me on my thigh

With a fire unknown in her eyes

“Idiot, have you begun

Writing love letters at this age? ”

 

That was the first and last time

She ever beat me

A lovely mother was she

And, often I wonder what happened

To that passionate missive of mine

 

Perhaps, it was blown over by the winds

Over fences and thorns and profusely bled

And withered in the sun and rain

Decayed down the channels of time

 

And I met her of late one of these days

At a temple festival when I braved

To tell her about my missive missed

That perhaps could have changed our fate

 

She laughed out in a guffaw

An aging grandma of three

And I could see at sixty-eight

Her jasmines were still intact

What more could a lover want

When he has only a toothless smile

In exchange, Oh, why do we age?

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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39 WORDS, Poetry by Josslyn Rae Turner

birth family childhood friendship learn explore

adult love sex family children parent

dreams build break broken torn

tears anger fight affliction

Genre: Dark, Depression

 

39 Words

By

Josslyn Rae Turner  

 

birth family childhood friendship learn explore

adult love sex family children parent

dreams build break broken torn

tears anger fight affliction

 

birth family childhood friendship learn explore

abuse bully hate destroy

darkness deep hell within

struggle

no

more

END

 

 

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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The scent and sound of your beautiful soul, Poetry by Gordana Frgačić

Today
I was woken up
By the scent
Of your soul

Genre: Romance, Relationship, Love

The scent and sound of your beautiful soul
by Gordana Frgačić

 

Today
I was woken up
By the scent
Of your soul
You weren’t even near me
But I inhaled you
Through every pore
Of my skin
I floated
For a while
On the soft layers
Of your beautiful soul
Suddenly
I smiled
And I knew
Your soul just started to sing

 

 

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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DUST PILES, Poetry by Monique Haden

Sometimes we hold things in silence because

we have no clue where else to keep them.

Push and push with all my might to shove these

things deep inside my memory to form dust piles.

Let the edges tatter; set flame to it all. Feed the

fire, hear the crackles; watch the smoke signals.

Genre: Life, Society

DUST PILES
by Monique Haden

Sometimes we hold things in silence because

we have no clue where else to keep them.

Push and push with all my might to shove these

things deep inside my memory to form dust piles.

Let the edges tatter; set flame to it all. Feed the

fire, hear the crackles; watch the smoke signals.

Watch fragments align and form tiny goodbyes to past hurts.

 

We twist memories making them realities when similarities are far and few.

I applaud my memory for its picky choosing to

hang onto some clips so vividly and turning some

such ashy shades of black and grey it’s hard to make out anything worth something.

 

It plays tricks on me making bigger deals

out of things that should be forgotten…

pulling bed sheets over my eyelids, heavily

blanketed slumbers bring flashbacks.

 

Oh, the vivid artistry of this complex mind: why

must you hang onto things worth trashing and

forget all the tiny threads that bound you together

each time you broke? Makin’ friends with the dust

piles, seeking comfort in the messes. Trying to

keep your fists clenched. Keeping palms clean

through the madness just so when it’s time to

interlock grips with someone you love, your pain

doesn’t stain their fingerprints…

 

I wanna learn to get my hands dirty if it means letting go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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