Category: poet

Read Poem: Singles Awareness Day, by Hiker Angel

Categories: Love, Hurt, Painful

The Darkest heart of winter’s chill
chokes out the hollow monstrous day,
its tendrils slithering to fill.

Rapacious, snaking, gasping gill,
in waters deep where wicked prey,
the Darkest heart of winter’s chill.

Its teeth plunge, victim’s cries so shrill
with lurching, wheezing, rending play,
its tendrils slithering to fill.

Her movement stops, it has its swill
the nasty piper sucks its pay,
the Darkest heart of winter’s chill.

Vestigial quarry’s heat distill,
blood’s dulling red becoming gray,
its tendrils slithering to fill.

Her hope to wed, its gleeful kill,
this Valentine’s, fourteenth long day,
the Darkest heart of winter’s chill,
its tendrils slithering to fill.

Villanelle
Rhyme: A1 b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2
Meter: iambic tetrameter

Read Poem: Cold, by Linda Jordan

Stealing along a darkened road; it’s path crooked
Fleeting around trees, leaves shivering in its wake, grass frozen mid-bow in homage
Inspecting, watchful, it’s purpose clear
A lone traveler comes; hungry for warmth
A house in the darkness; to the porch, peeking into windows; a door ajar
Cold sees an opportunity
Leaning in like a party guest offering unwanted advice, seizing the moment to enter
Quickly occupying every nook and cranny; nesting, rooting,
Inching forward through every carelessly cracked window, down every open chimney flue
Seeping along the floor, hugging corners
Inspecting cupboards, trying on boots and gloves
Filling closets and testing bed sheets; searching
Halting in a darkened corner, cold utters a sigh; glittery breath frosting windows in the vacant night
Uninvited visitor, unwelcome guest in the quiet
Faintly, the sound of voices tug at the fringes of its weary consciousness;
Lights flicker on interrupting its blue reverie; the rising sound of laughter assaults it’s crude senses
Suddenly feeling exposed, resolve melting, Cold hurriedly gathers it’s things, shoulder’s its frosty rucksack, and dissolves into the baseboards and walls, hiding
Whispering down halls, tendrils collecting its belongings along the way, cold escapes out the door as a warm body enters, door shut rudely at it’s back
Indignant and disheveled, Cold collects itself, shrugs its pack into place, and starts once again down the road trailing winter behind it

Read Poem: Can’t you see?, by Mary V. Saenko

Title: Can’t you see?
Author: Mary V. Saenko
Genre(s): dark, long, sad, painful, hurt, life

I want to be liked.
When I look at myself in the mirror,
All I feel is shame.
I am ashamed of what I look like,
But more than anything,
I am ashamed of who I’ve always been on the inside.
I am ashamed when I open my mouth,
Why do I have to speak?
Can’t you see?
I, too, don’t want to be this annoying!
I can’t help but say stupid things,
Why can’t I shut up?
Why can’t I just be like everyone else?
I don’t want to be me.
I want to be someone else, somebody just like everyone.
You can tell, can’t you?
That I really want you to like me,
Really want you to like me so I can like me too.
This desperation is pathetic,
Irritating,
Repelling,
Appalling,
Disgusting.
Let’s stick two fingers down my throat,
So that maybe yesterday’s bottled up regrets after yet another failed conversation
Will come out
Along with today’s special course:
18-years-worth-of-self-loathing mucus
Clogging my throat and my ears and my head and you,
Do you gag like me?
My tragic attempt to be friendly and likable
Does nothing but highlight my obnoxiousness.
Its filthy.
Does it make you gag, too?
Just say it already!
You hate me, don’t you?
Your words can’t hurt me.
You see, the overwhelming desire to dissapear
Is already my dearest companion;
Its hobbies are joining clubs
Just to feel like you don’t fit in,
Listening to sad songs
Just to cry,
Attending events
Just to feel unwelcome,
And by far, my favorite,
Talking to people who you hope are your friends,
Who you want to connect to,
Who you wish you were,
Just to feel unwanted,
Just to be unwanted,
Just to be alone.
Just to always approach others to start a conversation.
Just to go home by yourself on the last day of school.
Just to squeeze right in the corner of that group photo.
Just to avert eye contact knowing you will always be picked last for a project.
Just to know that if you weren’t here, everyone would be happier.
You ruin everything.
“Why did you show up?”
Can’t you read the room?
Nobody wants you here.
I don’t want to be here.
I just want to be liked.
Will someone else ever like me
When even I don’t like myself?
I can already tell what you are thinking,
Don’t worry, I won’t make you say it out loud.
But it doesn’t bother me,
I think this is something we can both agree on.
And if you say “I don’t like you,”
I will laugh
“Check mate!”
Because in this game, I always have the high ground.
And if you say “I hate you,”
I will exclaim
“Me too!”
If hating yourself is an art,
Well then call me Picasso,
For nobody can hate me
As much as I hate myself.

Read Poem: Parlors, by John Glass

My neighbor was a member
of a gang, the Latin Kings.
My neighbor sits to my right,
but had lived downstairs.

My neighbor reminds me
of Junior, real country folk,
who attended my great-uncle’s wake
back in Bama, some twenty years.

He wore overalls, Big Country,
to raised eyebrows, even there,
a reunion, though teary
as with this shabby funeral home

that I now attend
a wake for a mutual friend
my neighbor and I, catching up
a good guy, someone said.

But Victor wore a bandana,
and liked to say yo.
It was known that he’d killed someone,
back in Quitó.
He stayed but a few minutes
but his bandana remains with me
just as Junior’s denim
too remains with me.

I crunch-step through frost to the train
in Spanish-soaked Queens,
thinking of tonight’s dusty parlor
and that ancient Southern evening.

I shiver, thinking Victor
is okay, going to make it.
And I wonder if Junior is still alive.

Read Poem: DISPOSAL, by ­Sahana Arun Kumar

You complete asshole.
I dare you to find another woman
Another who’ll play your games
And pander to your insecurities
And caress your ego
I dare you
To catch another unsuspecting youngling
To flaunt yourself
Another woman’s arm, another woman’s work
Another woman’s brilliant mind and worth
And show her off, like you know best
I dare you
To let her believe it’s her you’re seeking
Let her believe how much you care
Lead her into your heart’s lair
The heart that will ensnare
In the garb of protection
And love
That will promise and seal
That she comes to no harm
That she may never feel lonely
Or needy or unloved or small
That your shield will always remain.

And then when you cannot take
That she also is a burning fire
Drop her and leave.

I dare you
To speak on a forum for her
With her, to her
Your validation is exactly what she’s in search of
Your words of encouragement,
Entrapment
A hole that she has no idea she’ll fall into
I dare you to play the part of her saviour
Her knight in shining armour
Free her from distress
By lauding her learning, the learning you
imparted
And praise her for learning you
That feeds your own male­cious ability to teach
I dare you to touch her hand
Hold it close
Let her know you’ll protect her
You’ll make sure she comes to no harm
Strengthen it through the promises
And words and gestures of love.
And when she finally begins to feel safe,
And secure, and free to be herself,
To open her heart to you,
And let her power shine,
Drop her.
Just leave.
You, your shield and all.

I dare you to leave her to ponder
The pieces she cannot put together.
Everything that shattered from her own power
A power that she may never realise
Because you ensured that that very scorch
Was nothing without you.
Nothing.

But that scorch will burn
And burn her blue
She’ll fire and power through
And rise from the ashes
And when she rises,
She’ll know that she alone was capable
Of rising out of it.
You on the other hand
Will remain in the grip of your own neediness,
Loneliness and self­serving satiation.
You will remain
A love that can never love
Or be loved.
­Sahana Arun Kumar

Read Poem: COMING OF AGE, by Juan Carlos Valadez

Your brown skin, tainted;
scabs falling on the floor,
leaving a trail
for further inspection.
Blood dripping
on, the dirt of innocence.
Your ankles
bruised, branded,
shackled with uncertainty.
Stuck
in a web of insecurities;
with a high guard,
throwing straight punches,
fighting your demons,
believing that you
are dead inside.
Pieces of your flesh
bitten off by boys
confined to adult bodies.
As you move forward
dragging your bare feet,
with each crawl,
it is obvious
that you are on your last breath.
You are not
going to make it.
As you reach the center of the temple
defeated,
spreading your prophetic wings,
placing your gift on the altar.
As you gasp for air
I hear the yearning of your heart.
Smiling
as you transcend onto heaven
as a Salvadoran Goddess—
a title well deserved.

Read Poem: Sugar coated cracks of soul, by Taipenius

Sugar coated cracks of soul

Is it dull

Or is it all?

Let me burn with morning’s light

Flow away with seas delight

Higher than the eagles scream

Lighter than the sunlight’s beams

That are reflected from my heart

Oh, let me live the art!

Genre: Philosophical

Read Poem: 65 Valentines, by David Ehrgott

There were sixty-five
valentines for you
I colored the one from me
your favorite blue
I didn’t know
the whole world loves you too
with sixty-four adversaries
I guess we could be through

So did they all say
“I Love You”
or “be mine today
& every day
I want to be your valentine
Be Mine”

or did they say that “I
only want to love you”
and after twenty solid years
could it really be we’re through

There were sixty-five
valentines for you
I colored the one from me

your favorite blue

Read Poem: A DREAM ALIVE, by Pranjit Das

A Dream Alive

1.
Reconciliation of some dreams old,
But I have lost seeing such dreams, long back
Since days, many months and years ,
Even ages and eras are gone,
Yet such dreams emerge as wild hounds/ dogs.

2.
Tireless lake sees the oldest pale lady,
Wandering on it’s shore in twilight.
How she turns my dream scary, gradually,
With her laughter dipped in melancholy,
An atmosphere gloomy with the sad song singing,
“..home, will my Sona return…”

3.
Hand in hand, walking with my grandfather,
Crossing the same wooden bridge every day!
Across which I discover his bloodied body
On the footpath lying,
Struggling a breath but can’t,
As he already dead!
The dream grow more frightful.

4.
Waiting eternally under the same Pine
With a heart palely heavy.
Promises get broken,
Break not such dreams.
My body goes chilling cold!
May be a heartless body destined so.
Genre- Philosophical

Read Poem: Take My Hand, by Remi Delaplace

Come wander with me,
In these hallowed
halls of endless night.

Where I will show you,
Many things
of horror and delight.

Faint whispers hiss while
Shadows shift
and flit behind your back.

Tattered curtains sigh
Those swaying
shades of lovely black.

Candle flames flicker,
As we haunt
rooms dusty and decayed.

Eyes ever watching
From paintings
whose colors start to fade.

Mournful howls from wolves
Who prowl woods
Below a rising moon.

Hear them, the children
Of the night,
How beautiful they croon.

You smell so lovely,
We embrace
Before the windowsill.

These hands may be cold
But my dear,
My lips are colder still.