Category: poet

Read Poem: THE CHANT OF A DIGGING ROYAL, by Sarra Culleno

My spade knocks against rock while gardening,
a speck of promise from a surface scratch.
More than a stone; composed, profound, sparkling,
it could be dislodged using skills I match.
It gleams, it glitters tantilisingly,
requiring little attention from me,
with my small fingers deft enough to claw,
my nails just long enough to loosen more.
I imagine it now mounted in gold,
over my larynx and under my jaw,
to give my voice credence when I get old.

Blast booming din kills.
Cacophony shakes.
The earth’s core unstills.
Gravel and clay takes
my treasure. Earthquake’s
violent vibration
ends aspiration.

—-
Sarra

London born and Manchester based, Sarra Culleno is a poet, mother of two and English teacher who performs at poetry events across the UK. She writes about children’s rights, motherhood, identity, gender, age, technology, the environment, politics, modern monogamy and education. Sarra is widely published. She features in many podcasts and radio shows, and was longlisted for the Cinnamon Press Pamphlet Prize. Sarra co-hosts Write Out Loud at Waterside Arts, and has performed as guest poet at numerous literary festivals.

@sarracullenopoetry – Instagram

@sarra1978 – Twitter

Sarra1978@hotmail.com – Email

facebook.com/sarracullenopoetry – FaceBook

Read Poem: Commence!, by Kohava Ray

Slowly our Spring creeps forward, cautiously approaching;
Ancient joy embraces us!

Reborn is not only for them, we share their body
Tree put forth rootlets, patiently grounding;

All life tests and savors all kinds of weather,
The dark nights still clasp them tightly, yet still they never forget to restart the day;

Green is the color of Go!
We say, why not?

image

Read Poem: Until We Meet Again, by Yurasil Canaan

I can recognize his voice now.
He left his odor on me. I still feel his hands caressing my body.
His soft lips pressed against mine.
Talking to him calms me.
He has managed to do the one thing no one has ever done, he makes me feel safe.
I can spend hours laying on his chest, I’ll never get tired of that.
His brown eyes and stupid smile gets me every time.
I love it when his strong dark skinned arms hug me.
His arms are covered with tattoos.
Tattoos that tell the pain he has been through.
I can stare at them for hours, like reading my favorite book.
We spend hours talking and I hate talking to people.
He gives me the confidence I need.
But I stay away, I can’t let us get too close and yet we are.
We are not afraid of each other.
It scares me that he is everything I ever wanted.

Read Poem by Bryce Kapono Smith

I had thought I’d be dead by now.

That’s been hard to get used to.
Now, don’t tempt me with a good time
Lost enough relishing in this missed-pain you scratched on my back
Because this isn’t like before, with a beginning, middle, and end.
It’s perpetually the middle now.
But to miss something is never to have had it in the first place
So I’m feeling lucky now I guess
Like when you bend down to tie your shoe just before hearing gunshots across the street.
Yet there are those memories, you know, that you have to scream out loud to get away from.
Since as much that’s given is as much taken
There are no excuses or any amount of apologizing to recover time given, taken, or wasted.
And though time and space is the brand of belt I wear around my pants
I’m still sorry.
No motives, just mistakes.

Read Poem: Answer meets question, by Carissa Putriziandra Finneren

You asked me a question.
What do I love?
Love
Love
Love
How can I answer this
As if
What I love exists outside of me
Externally?
Internally I feel a sunrise3
Every time I open my eyes
Light grows through time
Lids close and the sun sets
Into many lands of the same name
Dream
Its here I swim in Your seas
Reconstructed memories
Rare moments of lucidity
Fluidity in specks of stars imploding
Showing
Movie after movie
Sometimes it moves me
Other times it leaves me
With a feeling
That I can’t quite explain
Or the question,
“what in the world was that all about? Meh, who cares?”

It’s the kind of love that you haven’t been waiting for
Because you’ve been too busy living through it
Breathing through it
Working reworking It as if you think you have a hold on it
Sometimes you can’t even sit because it’s so strong
Stepping closer to that
Unable to truly reach this
Because your hands grasp for something that is invisible
Yet ALL around you
Flowing through you
Oh! Its blocked.
Hah! Now it’s unblocked.

The kind of love that you don’t ask “more” from
Give me more?
No
Because everything is enough
All is enough
It’s what was really needed

So you ask “what do you love?”
I think the answer folds itself into the question
In all forms
Actually visible too
Extending over norms
Lives
Lies that have revealed truths
Your eyes
Freedom to decide
Because this life is a ride
So hold on but not too tight
Family, friends, sunshine, good wine
Pen paper time alone
But never really
Music, art, nature
Scientific mystic
Don’t be so realistic that you missed it

Mind to mind
Body to body
Heart to heart
Taste after taste of
Grounded spices simmered for paste
Kunyit, bawang putih, cengkeh being gently firmly grinded on stone

It’s all written on there
Our destinies
Revealing itself through epiphanies
Whispers of Your mystery
Showing clearly
That Love is not meant for me
Hiding from me
Nor punishing me
It is me

But not all the time

Sometimes the doors are closed
Even though it holds heavens

In those moments I accept
Another layer
Seeing
Feeling how love exists within each one
So again you ask “what do you love?”
Again I reply,
The answer folds itself into the question

Read Poem: The Light Never Dies, by Marc Anthony S. Sison

One sad afternoon,
I don’t have any rations to put in my spoon,
I am one of those poor youth,
Who is scared and destitute.

I’m sitting in our living habitation,
Musing about the disease that caused these hard situation,
Today, the morning is over,
Still God, My shield, my weapon and my power.

It was dark and quiet around,
‘We are suffering’ is what I hear with a scary sound,
Covid19, are you angry with us?
Oh common! To kill thousand of people is not your task.

I immediately close my eyes,
Looking for the rainbow in the storm you brought us,
My God, hear my plea,
Give us solutions against this agony.

Oh My light, where are you?
You should stay because we still need you,
Life is useless if you will vanish,
And everyone’s lives might perrish.

As the birds fly,
This disease will also die,
This morning, when you wake up,
Everything will be fine so don’t give up.

The sun will appear,
All is well, my dear,
The light that was stolen from you,
Again, will be returned to you.

Read Poem: Dessert Storm, by David Murphy

In this surreal, quirky, and inventive poem, a young girl runs through a storm desserts, and she arrives at the confectionery where the proprietor offers her a selection of stormy sweets.

Suzy was just seven, and when vegetables made her sickly
She had to run and race to the confectionery quickly!
Down came rain and hail, and in blew wind and snow,
Near the purple mountains appeared a colorful rainbow!
Then ivory marshmallows fell from the sky like rain,
And all the clouds above were whipped into meringue!
The distant boulders turned to huge crumblings of cake,
While the nearby reservoir became a cocoa lake!
Through the dessert storm, Suzy forged on to the treats,
Where the kind confectioner helped her to the sweets.
“In peculiar times like this,” said he, “A sweet will change its name!
It joins with stormy weather, although its taste remains the same!
Here, my dear, we have cannoliclones and churrocanes!
Sugarsqualls and strudelfalls!
Here the tortenados and tart-typhoons
Surround us like a wild monsoon!
We have ambrosialanches and dangerous fudge slides
That have been tumbled down the mountain sides!
We have coconut cakequakes and chocolate cupquakes
And a tiramisunami that once devastated a land—
With its sweet coffee flavor and its ladyfingery savor
There was no end to the mascarpone demand!
We have solar éclairs that will brighten a day
And a dust-devil’s food cake to blow you away!
We have erupting baklavolcanoes and a shaved ice storm,
A maple barrage and a torrential sundaeluge—
Still the dessert that you want, my dear, depends upon you!”
“I think,” said Suzy, as outside, honey drops began to fall,
“I think, that I would like to have just one of them all!”

—
David Murphy
http://www.davidlandonmurphy.com

Read Poem: Mr. Alpha’s Hackneyed Empire, by Seema Dwivedi

With stinky feet you came;
And, raised a rude panic,
Indulging in your caprices, started a dirty game,
Shallow is your heart and words arsenic.

‘Mine is the throne,’ you announce, ‘alpha now I am’
Soaking yourself in what is nothing but a sham.
What have you to offer, anything new?
Why Mr. Alpha, did your anxiety grew?

New is the word you resent,
‘Can’ you know not; just familiar with the ‘cant’
Your service a business, stinky pair of socks;
How ignorant! Such an orthodox box.

Education builds bridge, but you craft fence;
Universe knows this you have got no substance.
Who is not after a good life? You energy vampire;
May the sun set soon on your prejudicial empire.

Read Poem: IN TENDER MEMORY, by Karen Ryan

Old age, how will
You treat me
When we meet.
With grey in my hair
And more, with each
Passing day susceptible
To health weaknesses
Lightly camouflaged
By humour, while
Making my way cautiously
Through ignominies heaped.
Reminiscences sad echo
Awaken
Mourning, with hindsight
Lost youths garden passed
When, love guided me
To your door.
Still, your image in
Reverence bright, hails my
Unflinching heart
Brave sentinel true,
In gathering tendrils
Of quiet,
I’ve not forgotten you.

Read Poem: SONG OF THAT NEW DAWN, by Dwivedi

Please play our morning song;
One in which, our nation is healthy,
One in which, our people stand together,
Stand together, equally & love each other.

Please play that song,
which promises a bright nation,
Where no one questions our identity,
And, we are free to live our life peacefully.

Please play that song,
Where the deal is fair & square,
Where there is no place for nepotism,
And the system doesn’t function on the grounds of favoritism.

Promise that notion of a nation,
Which respects each unique soul,
And provides peace and love.