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Forest Time, Poetry by Matt Shirley

Fingers of sunlight

Paint shadows

Genre: Philosophical.

Forest Time

Fingers of sunlight

Paint shadows

On forest floor leaves

Coloured by the seasons T

hat set them float free

By Matt Shirley

@A_Sea_of_Words

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Bowser Complex, Poetry by Mica Scotti Kole

Genre: Nerdy, Persona/Personality

Bowser Complex
by Mica Scotti Kole

Can you blame me for wanting shiny things?
Down here where the only light burns,
licks against the slime of old walls?
Where the back of my throat is scorched
by the fire I spit to keep you from here?
Flickering, inconstant light—no, friend,
I haven’t stolen the stars for their power
despite what the mushrooms have told you.
I crave them, that enduring glow, I have tried
my best, to hide them from you, but it is no use.
Even down here where walking the floors
means you might fall through, where falling
means another notch off a life,
you return, with your funny hats,
again and again, and you find them. So this time,
I’m going to sit and wait for you at the end,
keep them all in one place, see how far you get then.
And while I wait, I’ll follow the sparks of blue torches,
flickers of light on my first-stolen star,
darting among the slow-moving others
that spin with their soft points to watch her—
captive again, she is tired of calling your name.
Dancing in the kitchen, behind the stained glass,
she bakes a cake for me, lets me place the cherry
at the end, lights the candles
with her brilliance, and when you finally knock on my door
she is righting a too-big self-portrait of mine
hanging crooked from a pipe
on the wall.

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A Four-Letter Word, Poetry by Caro Ness

Love is just a four-letter word
Like long, or like, or wish, or hope,
Yet, though it may seem quite absurd,
It encircles the heart with silken rope,
And makes each day seem bright and new,
With myriad wonderful things to do.

Genre: Romance, Relationship, Humor

A Four-Letter Word

by Caro Ness

Love is just a four-letter word

Like long, or like, or wish, or hope,

Yet, though it may seem quite absurd,

It encircles the heart with silken rope,

And makes each day seem bright and new,

With myriad wonderful things to do.

No hill too steep, no road too far,

To be precisely where YOU are!

You, the lover, you the muse,

You the beautiful dancing shoes

That sashay into the mind, the brain,

And linger, like a sweet refrain,

That needs discovering again and again….

Love is just a four letter word,

Like sing, or grin, or feel or hold,

Yet it’s the icing on the cake,

The greatest story ever told.

It’s the fizz in a fine champagne,

It’s the huff and puff of an old steam train

The breeze breathing gently on your face

The intricacies of a piece of lace,

It’s euphoria, it’s a dream

It’s the cherry on top of a large ice cream,

It’s a name you can’t ignore

If I’m the apple, your its core,

It’s a megatastic superstore.

Love is just a four-letter word,

But oh, it is so much MORE.

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Front Doors, Poetry by Daniel de Culla

Baby O dynamite

mistress of the Star fish

swimming in my ears

where often a Wo/Man remains alone

Genre: Life

FRONT¨ DOORS

by Daniel de Cullá

Baby O dynamite

mistress of the Star fish

swimming in my ears

where often a Wo/Man remains alone

long to listen

Doors singing my business daily

dead as a door nail

into all this Channel

O.O. % Ecstasy. No¡

showing me a door opening by itself

at the End of lives forgotten

when Sun is a dog cart

botted with gay dogs

of the dooms day

sit and dreaming

of the floor of our

nothingness sentencing:

“Baker’s dozen talk

19 to the dozen”.

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What If?, Poetry by Anabel Gonzalez

What if the world saw kids through our eyes?
Will they see successes in disguise?
What if they saw diamonds in the rough?

Will they know capturing their hearts is not just fluff?
What if the focus was not on the test?
Would it be enough to just do our best?

Genre: Education, Political, Life

What If?

by Anabel Gonzalez

What if the world saw kids through our eyes?

Will they see successes in disguise?

What if they saw diamonds in the rough?

Will they know capturing their hearts is not just fluff?

What if the focus was not on the test?

Would it be enough to just do our best?

What if there was really nothing to measure?

Will we ever find that hidden treasure?

What if we could tear down classroom walls?

Would we teach at the beach or at the mall?

What if the computer could take the lead?

Would it make teachers obsolete?

What if we stop trying to find fault?

Could we find a remedy and stop the verbal assault?

What if differing viewpoints we could try to see?

Could we agree to disagree?

What if we taught kids to care for the least of these?

Would it be as important as learning ABC’s?

What if we stopped asking the hard questions?

Will we address the issues of education?

What if we stopped asking why?

Could we really turn a blind eye?

What if everyone could catch a glimpse into our world?

Will they be able to see that precious pearl?

What If?

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Sweet and Fragrant Nirvana, Poetry by Nalini Priyadarshni

You call me jaggery lips
though you have never sucked on
golden blob of sweetness
and have no idea about its taste
only a vague memory of
something you had sampled in Mexico
made of sugarcane juice
Sweet and fragrant!

Category – Romantic

Sweet and Fragrant Nirvana

by Nalini Priyadarshni

You call me jaggery lips

though you have never sucked on

golden blob of sweetness

and have no idea about its taste

only a vague memory of

something you had sampled in Mexico

made of sugarcane juice

Sweet and fragrant!

Maybe you have forgotten gulkand

in your post dinner paan with silver foil

after a long day of sightseeing

in the heat and dust of Benaras

that started at Ghats and culminated

at the silk shop where sitting midst

thousands of pieces of fine silk

you picked golden Ganesha on black

my favorite god whose figurines I collect

A coincidence you would say

of course, like countless others.

Sipping ice cold water under the droning fan

browsing through vibrant silk pieces

each more beautiful than the previous

with no intention to buy any, after the

oppressive heat of the day you had spent wandering

the streets of the ancient city with your juvenile guide

you picked my favorite god to take back home

India you did not pack in your backpack

lodged itself beneath your nails

flowered as a trident on your palm

to unfold in the folds of your skin

in the twilight of ‘beaver state’

Thronging with love, gurgling chaos

it nestles in the crevices of your soles

You now return to me in myriad pieces

I stow away at the back of my lingerie drawer

run my finger along their edges listening to Beatles

try to put them together in sultry afternoons

let lusty mangoes seduce me into thinking

we can find a way to turn the clock around

and find nirvana in slurping their nectar

Author info- Nalini Priyadarshni is a poet, writer, editor and amateur photographer. Her work has appeared at various international magazines and lit journals including Up the Staircase Weekly, eFiction India, Mad Swirl, Crescent Magazine, The Riveter Review, Writes & Lovers Café, The Gambler, Camel Saloon, Earl of Plaid, CUIB-NEST-NIDO, and The Open Road Review, Phoenix Photo and Fiction, Undertow Tanka besides numerous anthologies including Resonance, I Am Woman, Awakening of She, Art of Being Human etc. She lives in Ludhiana, India with her husband and two feisty kids. Her first solo poetry collection Doppelgänger In My House is expected in 2016.

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Morning’s Music Never Dark, Poetry by Dr. Todd Harris

Silken quiet awakes tungsten sleep
Morning creeping stealthily stirred
Mindful music filling empty’s creep
Early birds joining daylight’s chorus

Genre: Nature and Music Poetry

Morning’s Music Never Dark
by Dr. Todd Harris

Silken quiet awakes tungsten sleep
Morning creeping stealthily stirred
Mindful music filling empty’s creep
Early birds joining daylight’s chorus

Wondering flowery questions steep
Curiosity’s tendencies’ garden lorus
Waking’s unpredictable flying words
Dropping puzzling notion feats

Daylight’s opening Music beckons
Closed windows open daffodils
Sunup conducting finch wings largo
Grasshoppers duetting butterfly trills

Yesterday calls darkness piccolo
Answer-hosted soils deeply reckon
Confused vanities’ unwanted cargo
Draperies outstretch windowsills

Evening flutters land high limbs
Practiced breath lights unrehearsed
Clock ticks birth surprising seconds
Sunflower seeds grab birthday winds

Hummingbirds wing workaday’s trims
Breeze-music fills sky’s empty purse
Hope-clouds cover midday’s beckon
Tragedy re-sculpts life’s bearing grin

Cats purr quiet just-kidding notes
consciousness bears arriving-blooms
Eve-Idled petals vein wrinkled flowers
Darkness crumples creased art paper

Feet sketch carpet’s walking caper
Knees knock stepping’s empty room
Wonder irons confusion’s coat
Mystery freshens dreams’ open hour

Rising tides overfill lazing eyes
Sound intrudes Id’s empty hall
Climbing-ivy conquests wailing’s wall
Static dust-draws filamentary skies

Unstressed silence hinges cedar ties
Imagination’s rested rabble calls
Words’ sleepy chrysalis worms recall
Worlds’ anxiety weaves fresh surprise

Sunrise taps slumber-tarnished peaks
Calico sweeps sleep’s open door
Vanilla crafts weepy eyebrows’ furrow
Farmers tightly cold-swaddle palms

Pillows clear winter’s staging burrow
Gravity ties shadow’s unkempt floor
Atmosphere poses morning-speak
Novelty cradles crickets’ Psalms

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Tales of a Time Traveler, Poetry by Aditya Mankad

Genre: Rhyme, Relationship

Tales of a Time Traveler

by Aditya Mankad

I sat on the sands of time,
Watched the past go as if it wasn’t mine.
And I waited for eternity; just to see,
See the future where you’d be with me.
I heard the songs of dreams as I waited,
And glued my eyes to the horizon as I fall asleep,
But woke up just in time as I had promises to keep.
I was touched by love,
And it burned me hard,
Made me invincible and left me scarred.
And now I won’t fail to mention,
How I still miss you; event in the Nth dimension,
And I realize it now,
How it has always been,
Me falling for you;
You being the red for my blue.
Me feeling the pain;
All seems as right as rain.
I realize it now,
as it makes my stomach churn;
as I long for another scar,
Another burn.
And I hope that there comes a day,
When,
leaves turn brown,
sun shines,
and the sky is all blue,
I would be right where I belong,
With you.
But until then,
I must do what I do best,
Go down the road,
Feared by the rest.
The path itself is the parchment where we wrote,
Wrote the stories of us both.
And our footprints became the ink,
Which can even make the stars sink.
What shall I do now?
Should I wait?
Should I go and tell our tale
and let my promises fail?
Or shall I wait and wait,
and wait,
And keep faith the fate;
Let the world forget who we are,
Wait till you come to give me another scar.

Blog: https://thecheesyengineer.wordpress.com

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ATONEMENT, Poetry by Orok Duke

She poured out her mind thus:
My dream came true,
As the way I do
Everything with you,
No one else will ever do –
Then we caught a cold.
So, let us grab another day
To drive this matrimonial acrimony away.

Genre: Rhyme, Relationship

<B>ATONEMENT

(For Ako and Antigha)

by Orok Duke</b>

She poured out her mind thus:

My dream came true,

As the way I do

Everything with you,

No one else will ever do –

Then we caught a cold.

So, let us grab another day

To drive this matrimonial acrimony away.

On that chosen day,

A day that was gladsome and gay,

They found time to be alone,

For them to review and atone.

Later that day,

Towards the midnight hour,

I overheard, ”Can I join you?”

And a reply, ”Of course, love!”

Then: smack, muffles, giggles, kisses and some other

Unrecognisable but hushed sounds,

Came from their Honeymoon suite.

They slept peacefully after.

She drifted back to memory lane,

To when she heard him for the first time:

The sonorous, but guttural voice

And that familiar scent of smitten lovers,

Wafted slowly and overwhelmed the room,

Reminding them of those blissful days –

The way they were,

Their idyllic days in Obio Usiere.

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Rag Doll, Poetry by Linda Ward

Let me be your rag doll.
Drop me where you may.
Place me on your pillow when you leave for the day.

Genre: Rhyme, Relationship

Rag Doll
by Linda Ward

Let me be your rag doll.
Drop me where you may.
Place me on your pillow when you leave for the day.

Tear my shoulder from loving me,
and fix me when you find the time.
Leave me in the toy box,
when you need some peace of mind.

Let me be your comfort,
when the world has beat you down.
Take me for granted,
knowing that I will always be around.

Trim my hair the way you like,
even though it doesn’t grow.
Then undress me late at night
No one will ever know.

Let me be the tattered toy,
you live your secrets through.
Then throw me in the corner,
and swear I never loved you.

But keep me with you forever,
when you’ve thrown all your other toys away.
Cherish ALL the stains that
can never be washed away.

I kn.ow I am just a rag doll!
But, some one has to be!
Sometimes the greatest gift in life.
Is the the one that comes for free

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(Definition of a rag doll,
A limp, ineffectual person, as in You won’t get a decision from her; she’s a rag doll when it comes to making up her mind. This expression transfers the limpness of a soft doll made from scraps of cloth to human behavior

Second def.
v. in American Football, an engagement between a defensive linemen and offensive lineman where the defensive linemen tosses the (typically 320 lb.) offensive lineman away like a rag doll, usually with ensuing similar deleterious actions imparted to the ball carrier. It would be the reciprocal of a pancake, where the offensive lineman drills the defensive lineman backwards into the ground and then lands on top of him.

Urban def:
To be forcefully grabbed and shaken with such ferocity that the recipient resembles a ragdoll

Literal def:
n.
A stuffed cloth doll, traditionally made from leftover scraps of material.

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