Category: poem

Read Poem: To the Piercing Underneath my Tongue by Zainab F. Raza

Golden lock,
In shape of a classic knocker
resting beneath its conveyer
to thoughts that I’ve decided to shut my doors against.
Golden lock,
holding unspoken treasures,
Golden lock, an unspoken treasure,
stabbing already raw gums.
Keeps me from sharpening the tongue of what many words that
turned
the misheard away.
And please don’t ask me why I sound so dull,
it hurts to speak.
Tastes like blood in here.
My mouth,
a home to where walls come down,
but who is there to invite?
Who will listen in borrow to
the suffocating voice behind gates of locked jaws?
I find no lending ear.
Who do I invite inside?
My golden knocker,
I made rupture for you by the piercing strike of a needle.
This is revenge to myself
for all that I’ve said,
so I suffer to I say what I think.
So I think twice, before you knock again.
And if it is worth the pull
of my aching tissue that’s known more cries than a box of goddamn
Kleenex,
I will answer.
Leisure to my lesion,
my thoughts are resting in apologies I want to say,
but let me rather spare you the pain of forgiving.
Because I know it hurts to speak.

Read Poem: WILL YOU STAND BY ME? by Samson Abanni Ikenna

In a world so populated, why is truth just one?
And why can’t we tell the end except at the end?
Since now I can only pray that I’m praying right.
And hope that I’m not wasting hope.
For I have never been on this shore,
So I’m not even sure if I’m supposed to be sure.
And with these issues here and offshore,
Can I have on me, more of your fingerprints than mine,
Can I count on you, will you stand by me?

When the rainbow is left with only three colors.
When life has finally entered menopause.
At that time when all are afraid including our fears.
When I finally meet my weaknesses and all its witnesses.
And our childhood dreams have become artifacts of memory.
Because fate no longer accepts hope as a currency.
Since the ocean that wed many tilapia,
Also hides the sharks that separate them.
To this unquestionable fate I stand as a lamb,
So am I worth the risk, will you stand by me?

Now that hope is contraband and faith is graffiti.
Now life is littered with paths like strands of spaghetti.
And one is all we can choose and hope it leads to destiny.
can I count on you, now that to dream is to dare?
Will you stand by me?
If eventually air gets recruited into a union,
and there’s an industrial action.
Can I breathe through you?
Will you take the wind with me through an untried cardinal,
in the uncertain arms of hope?
And when youth finally shed its leaves, as we know it will,
Can I still call you my friend?

What if our plans have their own plans?
What if tommorow denies us visa.
What if we are wrong to have been right?
For our plan is a boat that has never been tried.
And here we are taking on the Atlantic.
Each day is an interview with reality.
So dear, think deep before you reply.
Will you risk a lifetime when it’s all you got.
Will you stand by me?
© Samson Abanni Ikenna.

Read Poem: Invisible, by Cheryl KP

Watching the parade
and longing to ride,
but stand in the shadows,
needing to hide.

Wings are not clipped,
so why not soar?
Afraid to enter
an opening door.

Visibility to some
the ultimate goal,
to another the threat
of losing their soul.

Why seems it a sin
to want only to live,
to answer when called
and with everything give?

No production!

No success!

No fame!

No coin!

Just…
quiet happiness.
Making beautiful things
for their own sake,
not to barter or sell
but any may take.

Invisible
I am
in a crowded place,
for
they look right through
the pain on my face.

Sometimes lost
and sometimes found,
accepted, rejected-
the senses confound
rational ideas!

Disappearing within,
the quiet calm
is as a balm.

Disappearing,
not dying.
Merely being,
tired of trying.

Always trying…
to fit in,
a color that won’t blend,
a peg that won’t fit,
an unfinished sentence,
hanging in the air.

I am the breath not taken,
the path untraveled,
the word unspoken,
the sight unseen.

Invisible.

Cheryl KP
Copyright 2014

Read Poem: Valley Of Death, by Sujoy Bhattacherjee

You are the anatomical wonder !
More velvety than the petals of a rose .
Churner of the charm , you enigmatic flower !
You are the way in and way out of life –
In the form of sperm and fetus .
You kindle the lamp of life , source of human birth .
You are the confluence of all sin and vice , envy and revenge.
who first tasted the forbidden fruit – Adam or Eve ? I know not .
Earth’ s magnetic poles can’t meet each other , miles apart .
Human magnetic poles caress each other to continue the current of life and death!

You are worshipped as a living deity by your devotees – devilishly pious .
You are a black hole more malignant than a dead star !
Your moist tract – abysmal dark , murky hades incarnation !
There is a way in to your garden – an Eden on the Earth .
Who can ever wish to come out of a pleasant labyrinth ?
You are the bearded oyster – nurture pearls of shivering life .
An active volcano emitting lava of lust to torpedo – minds .
A dormant rivulet flowing eternally to rinse human filth .
You are elastic enough to allow a passage to fetus – great creator !
Penis protrudes – an encroaching during coitus , a snake to hibernation .
You are a valley of death , a gymnasium of life too ,
a contradictory juxtaposition !

Read Poem: …And We Die, by Stacey Ishag

Revolution is led by the young
The battle of oppression is near.
Freedom bells have rung
We’ve suppressed our fear.

and we die… as you observe and meet
and they die… while you drag your feet

The world watches our blood,
as it flows through the streets.
Politicians clean their hands,
with our defeat.

and we die… while you negotiate peace
and they die… by the hands of our own police
This suffrage for toleration has come too far to unwind.
Seems like a no win situation,
unless you emancipate your mind.

and we die… while you sit and debate
and they die… watching their women raped

The struggle against tyranny will continue,
until our dreams are realized.
My town, your village, whatever the venue,
our liberation mustn’t be compromised.

and we die… to be honored by the freed
and we’ve died… martyrs
our last breath singing nasheed

TG
Summer

revolution war redemption oppression political freedom society rhyme

Read Poem by Fidget Poetry

i’ve got this goddamn fan on high
and i’m cycling through all my bad dreams
meanwhile these two maladjusted pipes
dangling over my head
bang out another lost cause symphony
while my glossy eyed dog
stares into space
begging me to come home

theories about how to get well
stories about singing the blues
poems about cancer spreading my love
that is all i need right now
nothing complicated
nothing out of the ordinary
just a good old fashioned
hanging of the soul

Read Poem: LATE SPRING FILES, by Travis Darkow

Barbed wire fences stretch down this dirt road
All the way to the dusty iron gates that hold back
The secrets of an ill regarded graveyard

A space of well intentioned headstones that lie in wait
For the paranoia of the seasons to come to an end

Late spring flies gather and swarm
Between shadows of the passing years

In nonsensical terms this all makes perfect sense
Innocence
In a sense

Lost through time
Revoked beauty held hidden just beneath the surface
Blood runs from the trees down through the roots
The buds of a pale future drown in the soil
Before they will ever have the chance to bloom

Nothing will survive the coming days
But we should be so lucky for the chance to start again