O love if thou did not exist
would a kiss on lips be missed
could a heart from love refrain
and never know the joy the pain
of feeling love in every way
the highs the lows the come what may
the caution to the wind we throw
when love arrives and lets us know
a light goes on within the heart
hope begins and love imparts
a precious gift we hope will grow
if this seed with care we sow
Category: poet
Read Poem: Sunset Goodbye, by Laura Muñoz-Larbig
Sunset over Palos Verdes
watching from Signal Hill,
I took a photograph still life
as the fading bright blue sky
became a golden glow
and spilt red over the hills.
Still married
but thinking this is over,
this is it, for us.
So I took my husband to the hill
to watch one last sunset together.
I snapped a study in sunset and silhouettes:
tall black form imitating a spouting oil well
reaching for a lone star
in the deep blue sky above it
as its silhouette hid the sun;
and a rectangle black block beside it
with a square hole imitating a picture frame
that frames nothing
but the empty sky beyond.
In between, the lines and curves
of a concrete bench etched
near my soon to be ex
standing near a stone pedestal.
His one arm rested on stone,
one arm at his hip as he contemplated his fate.
A telescope fades in the shadows
as the sun, invisible behind the sculpture,
hides suspended in mid-setting.
I was not yet resigned to divorce,
he was already resigned to convince me.
As we watched the sun fade into the future,
I captured one last moment of our sunset days.
He looked across the basin between reddened hills,
meditating upon his bipolar future.
I silently watched him from behind,
nostalgic to the end
for the setting of our final days
as an unknown future
stretched before us.
Read Poem: BEAUTIFUL LOSER, by Mark Laurent
You’re a beautiful loser
in that red surfer tee-shirt
and blue panel van
even the paint smears on your labourer forearms
and your possum-in-the-headlights stare
add wairua to your duckling grace
You cut off those dreadlocks
which you’d cultivated for years
and the other night you told me
as we stood in the club bar melee
maybe you’d been too hasty
I liked the image they gave you
kind of piratical, wild-man, free-man
but you’re still a beautiful loser
though now you’ll need to wear a hat
when the ozone hole stretches
Like the hole in your pocket
the cell phone bill makes
when your wife phones too often
just to talk about nothing
or, “What’ll we have for dinner?”
because she gets a bit lonely
only talking to your babies
and she’s really in love
with her beautiful loser
So you’re a small-town production
short hair, short expectations, short patience
with politics, religion, social engineers
you suspect the reds and the greens
much like your father in his time
he was a beautiful loser, too
and you don’t want to be like him
but seem to be anyway
with your construction job prospects
loan repayments and family ties
You say you’re overweight
try to resist bar-snack temptation
to me you look plump with good health
but you are how you feel
and we all bear a secret image
of disappointment close to our hearts
and I can say what I like
but you have to believe
that you’re a beautiful loser.
Read Poetry by I.P.Jaya
For every part OF every day,
and every piece OF every way
For every heart OF a beating soul,
and every part OF the story untold
United beings OF one human race,
we must most OF all embrace
By I.P.Jaya
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Read Poem: bout owt, by kirky
Sitting watching Tele
With me dinner in me belly
What a wasted life
Just sat there with the wife
Mixed emotions sit there fighting
Cos I really should be writing
But basically I’m lazy
Not to mention slightly crazy
So I sit there on me bum
Thinking should I take an um
breller in the morning
Mouth wide open yawning
Cos I’m bored.
A thought has just arose
Asking should I write some prose
Or a poem or a rhyme
Just to while away the time
It’s really hard to say,
Though I say it anyway
What’s the difference?
What exactly is a poem?
What on earth is called a prose?
And does it have to rhyme?
Or not?
You can’t write a poem about an orange
After all.
Read Poem: Barabbas, by Terry Stolz
Along this long and lonely road
Lied a mist as dark as the devils’ soul
Back hunched over timber upon it
Wearing a crown of thorns as he crept along
They spared a man who shouldn’t have been freed
And took the life of our King
The eyes of a blind man could see the wrong
Being carried out by the riotous throng
Multitudes cried… “Let the carpenter die
The common thief should be freed.”
The wind rushed in
Roman timbers began to dance
An ominous darkness blanketed the sky
The clouds began to moan
Rolling thunder, flickering lights
Mountainous clouds on the horizon
A lightning bolt singed the earth
An abrupt silence deafened the crowd
Life is short as death came near
Forgive the people as he reappeared
It was over now, hanging there high
Blood running cold from his hands and feet
They had spared a man who shouldn’t have been freed
And took the life of our King
Read Poem: I was not called to give up, by Chad Browne
Never was I ever called to throw away the towel because I am a champion
Even though the fire is hot, it helps me to get stronger
I get powerful even though my muscles ache
The darts ricochet like a bullet of a bulletproof chest
Like I got Super S working in my favour
And level up, it’s over 9000!
But whether the trails from the teachers
Or the many other tests that seem to press me is like its leg day
We don’t want any Johnny Bravos who has only head knowledge for muscles
But no practical experience nor total transformation of the heart
No skinny legs who cant support the walk of the victorious
The reason why you are here is to study to show yourself approved
To remind you that the battle has already won
Because my Jesus triggered fatality ‘pon death and give us a flawless victory
The point of this is not the grades or high achievements
It is about souls and for the kingdom of God to be developed
The race is not for the swift but for those who will endure, so repeat after me, I was not called
to give up
Read Poem: LOVE, by Peter F. Pike
The opposite of courage maybe fear
but the true opposite of fear is love.
Bravery is something we all hold dear;
such a precious gift from heaven above.
But what of love? That emotion splendid!
Where hatred has festered; Love brings healing
as broken relationships are mended.
Isn’t Love the highest-soaring feeling?
Love can truly cure the broken-hearted;
all the fallen, Love gently raises up.
It just takes kindness to get Love started:
that grateful sip of water from a cup.
Love—the highest of all our emotions
Love—the deepest of all our devotions
© Peter F Pike, NSW
Read Poem: UGLY FACE, by William Farmer
Everywhere I go
I see your ugly face
Every state every place
The enemy gives you a space
You’re an image in my mind
I can’t erase
You seek to curse my life
And cause disgrace
Nothing is pure
Because of you
Everything is laced
As soon as I turn the door knob
I walk in and see you at the job
You cause some people to kill and rob
This life ain’t normal
I feel like I’m going against the mob
I live in a world
Infatuated with thighs and hips
To survive we carry extended clips
We’re segregated by race
Gangs bloods and crips
You can die in an argument or over a bag of chips
Jealousy is growing
Rest in peace Nip
How far did we get from slave ships and whips?
We try to clean it up
But it’s too many tears and rips
Streets ain’t wet from rain
It’s the blood that drips
Like a scratched CD
It repeats and skips
People dead with a heart beat
And venomous lips
We mad at the shooters
But some of the victims ain’t innocent
Some of the victims were cruel and ignorant
Every act of violence ain’t random or by coincidence
Today is the day
When danger knows no consequence
And death and danger are becoming more and more imminent
I see your face at the grocery store
I see you with the rich
I see you with the poor
LA traffic, I see you even more
Worthless souls, they treat you less than a quarter
Welcome to McDonalds
They take your orders
They don’t give you service with a smile
They give you service that’ll put you on trial
Mean and nasty is the new style
Your ugly face has been here
For quite a while
No matter how far I travel
I see your face
Mile after mile
Read Poem: BURN, by James Stordy
You burn brightly. My body drawn like a magnet to yours
I play your body with the caress of my hands, Like the Spanish guitar.
Some moments fast and others gentle and slow
But moments of pure intense bliss throughout.
My lips devoted to your intense pleasure
You move like the waves in the ocean
And your voice gets higher and sweeter
Your body now ripples with goose-pimples
This the Sign of your passion and sensuality.
I move in once more and play you again
Until light returns and we must do it all again.
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