Category: poet

Read Poem: I FELL IN LOVE WITH COLORS ONCE, by Kristen Corbisiero

I feel in love with colors once,
They’re bright, attractive allure,
Drew me in time and time again,
Fingers dancing on the edge of my heart,
Caressing and sighing, teasing laughter echoed in my head,
Colors drew me close, whispered beautiful things,
I saw stars in so many different perspectives,
Saw the sunset everyday and each time gasped with the portrait that bleed into the sky,
I fell in love with all the colors,
Never questioning why,
And they all broke my heart.

The day I saw things in black and white was when I met you,
When the colors had drained me dry,
Taking whatever they could,
I still here the haunting laughter and my heart lurches.
(And it’s shameful that I miss seeing the sunset,
How the stars shone, the way the night sky bled)
The black and white, though,
It was so dull, simple and so transparent I wondered what caught my eye,
It wasn’t the vivid imagery it drew in my mind,
Couldn’t have been the thrill or excitement,
But…something still made me stay.
(Maybe I was trying to heal the mess colors left smeared across my heart)

Black showed me there was so much more to my darkness,
How shades of grey told a story,
How the midnight hue told an endless story across that same night sky,
How the white bright stars shone in a new, different way,
Colors had bled me,
But the comfort of black and white,
Of you,
Made me learn to create my own colors,
Shining bright and bold,
Mixed with a touch of your own color pallet.

Read Poem: Inna Bflat, by Sharon M. Musgrave

(Poem about being a single mother)

It started with a simple dream

A single mom, an apartment on the lake

and a blue computer screen

Two Ikea colored filled rooms

Seagulls singing songs in the late afternoon

Just below the balcony on a bed of grass

Unblemished was the set of her new beginnings

But she didn’t know, not while she was living in it

All she had was where she’d been

Her eyes focused on the computer screen

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood

He’s got a blue electric motorcycle

and he zooms through the kitchen

Then he swishes passed her swiveled chair

She feels the cool breeze of his creative air

and she just sits there

Gone are the solidified words which so passionately

possessed her just a few months ago

Gone are the concerns that kept her from her desires

The things she couldn’t see through

Not while she was living in it

And so it was born, a plan

Because the dream is all she had in the first place

So off she went left the shore for a temporary apartment

A step side ward, while onward she worked on the side

An old stove full of someone’s lonely past

A broken pool in the basement, a small dark sauna

Not the aqua blue the fresh waves that she longed for

She slept alone and rode the night

Because this side turn produced many of fights

but she needed this as they say, to build character

She followed the tricycle down the path

Where she once walked to find solace on the water front

Which clothed her with the rays

Enough to fill the early morning bike ride to the day care up the road

Her little boy in the back seat singing songs like

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood

Beautiful day, Beautiful Day, Beautiful Day, in the neighborhood

Then there came another side turn, and I say side turn

Because when you’ve got goals there are only side turns, no back turns

Then she took a dive because she loves diving into things

Because each flight is a good lesson

She learns that what was once a struggle becomes food for thought

So out of her new soulful encounters she was able to progress

You see finding herself has become her major accomplishment to date

Because it lead her to what truly matters

SHARON MUSGRAVE
Websites/Stores

http://www.sharonmusgrave.com/

http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/outflow/id401094345

http://smarturl.it/ShasArchivesCD

https://www.instagram.com/sharonmusgravemusic/

Read Poem: LET THIS DAY, by Katarina Jovcevska

Let this day passing by in wisdom and strength to someone be a friend be a hero and stand with a goal build your life step by step, day and night don’t lose yourself in lies be honest and fair and don’t pretend Let God fills your path with love and light.
Be a man and you will deserve everything you can be a crowned king let your belief have wings and see, realize what for is your sacrifice does it worth be all of this make a step in new century because you know what you want you feel the pain of the people in the middle ease with a smile only for a while accept no defeat and take deep breath, don’t sleep lead, teach and be the best go on, searching for from the east to the west write down your own history with a dream for victory and mark the time for the first time because you are that special kind with a brilliant mind.

Katarina Jovcevska
Kumanovo,R.Of North Macedonia
Some of her work you can see on:youtube:Katarina Jovcevska”Nobody Like you”,”Inspiring song to change your life” and “Factory of dreams”;facebook;soundcloud”Secret desire and I’m on fire”-Katarina Jovcevska;bandlab,www.macedonia.co.uk

Read Poem: ASPIRATION, by K. Exum

I remember when I was a kid and I used to dream of being a cop
Being in the force stopping the bad guys that rob
Solving all of the problems around the world
But then I got older and I saw a cop shoot a man down in cold blood
He later got on the stand said he was scared
I wasn’t there
But I’m sure when he seen you and that gun paired
That He was the only one scared
It’s sounds crazy hearing a killer saying he was scared
Like they were the one on the other side of the gun
I see situations like this come up all the time
Most officers walk free without getting time
It’s like they just didn’t commit one of the biggest crimes
The worst part is that this is normal to me now
But to some it’s like seeing a unicorn
What you see when you see that uniform
You see a hero
I see someone who likes to abuse their power
Just a bunch of cowards
I can get shot right now and their life will still mean more
Because of that badge on their shirt
It’s always been this way people just cover their eyes while we get hurt
It’s a real life birdbox
If you seen a cop jacking me up because I was walking will you actually help
Or will I just be another victim on the news
Judged because of a crime from years ago
Or because how my hair looked or how my pants were so low
Or judged off height
I used to be scared of the dark but now the police is the only ones that cause my
fright
Scared of getting killed and the reporter justify it because of how I looked
Even if indicted they only get a couple of years
While my sentence wouldn’t let me see another day
I can’t believe that use to be my aspiration

Read Poem: TWO WAY, by Maria Juliet

I love the humbleness but I draw the line of boundary.
The darkness completely folded;
He does not know there was a limit inside the box.
I love the sincerity but I let some words often missing.
Outside the window, the music is too loud.
He does not know, only the shadow can bring the numbness.
I love the smile but I give back blank stares —- mostly.
Inside the room full of gold mixed of copy.
He does not know eyes are the genuine smile…
I love sacrifice but I am too poor to buy time.
Back at the car, the dogs fighting for one raw bone
while in four meters away the stray cat enjoying his food alone.
He does not know, inside the grocery store few are only worth it for pancake dream.
I, love being alone.
Beyond the horizon,
Walking, dreaming, screaming, reaching and receiving ——– these.
He doesn’t need to know…

Read Poem: Life and Times of my Cigarettes Death, by Samantha Broesky

If only you knew
the laps it took,
To find my way out,
of labyrinths in my head.
I was trapped in days so
dark,
attempting ways to escape,
want to get back,
be safe, in my minds maze.
Lost in countless ways,
How many times?
Times after time.
Do you know?
Just how many times,
I have died
while still alive?

It’s not easy, having this,
beautiful mind.
To see the beauty,
in deranged miracles,
They luminate through my
eyes.
To be able to outsmart my
Devil,
Beat me at my own game,
Now I wear this damned
crown,
Watching myself,
I go down on my knees
Singing my own praises,
Loving myself,
embracing my wicked ways.
Backwards I lit my first
cigarette.
Filter for my silent mouth,
Watch how it ignites
Spewing toxic, blue flames,
Straight out of hell.
Still I inhale.
Ill be the first to admit,
I’ve done some pretty
fucked up shit.
All that time wasted.
Incarserated. Intoxixated.
Drugged out. Seduced.
Body Bloody, Bruised and
Broken.
Over and over….
praying for a day it, or I
would end.
Still canʼt recall all the
nights, turned to days,
to weeks, no sleep on
repeat….. Stealing and
Dealing.
Forget to keep dreaming.
Here I am,
still inhailing that cigarette.
My only regret,
Was falling in love,
With the right man.
Only thing left.
Date.Year.
Numbers finalizing,
Timing his breath.
Ashes everywhere.
The only truth in love.
My cigarettes death.
Radio playing.
Times timeless hitlist.
If I could turn back,
My all-time regret,
Was in a moment,
No sooner, or later,
no matter where, I asked
why me? What happened,
Or didn’t, after I met you.
In a restricted hall,
Trying hard to be late,
The clock kept telling me,
I blame it for believing it’s
lies.
I was blind, from not hearing,
The warning from time,
in how we both become,
prisoners starting at walls.
Counting every damn day,
Every impossible way,
Lists on lists,
regret turns to regret,
Wishing for words to pray,
I can’t say, make me forget.
No, I never, I won’t, I don’t
even smoke,
The look you gave me, while
giving to you.
In you, I gave, my first
regret,
that led to you…. Lighting
me up, that last cigarette.
Now the last thing, my only
thing left,
Iʼm smoking alone, not
hearing you say my name.
I’ll never regret, how you
had… that crave,
because of me.
You get a spark off a dead
lighter,
trick is, put two dead ones
together.
Sex, death, celebration,
stress.
Always you’ll see me
smoking.
I need you, not ashes,
you need a cigarette.

Read Poem: NIBBLES, by Sebastian Hales

Come down to the bridge at midnight, when the tide is full and the lights of Waikawa shatter the water into crystal shards and the only sounds are the swishing and slapping of ripples against the wooden piles of the bridge and the deep black murmuring of the distant sea hidden behind the sleeping covens of sand dunes.

Stand naked on the pebbled bank, sensing but not seeing the whiteness of your body exposed to a thousand pointing fingers, the ghosts of the trees and the sharp menace of the gentle breeze.

Slip tentatively down the slope into the caressing night clothes of the water’s comfort.

The lights of the shore are a painted backdrop left behind from another play.

Below the rippled blanket all is dark.
Only your head lifting from its twinkling pillow.
Only your wet hair like seaweed on your face.
Only your feet, braced against the water’s sway.

Then you feel,
nibbling your shoulders and back,
nibbling neck and arms,
nibbling breast and buttock,
nibbling away the bridge,
the lights,
the coldness of the air,
the worries of the day,
the now and then,
the struggles and despair,
the nibbling,
nibbling massage
of shoals of tiny
fishes.

Read Poem: Where the Tears Go, by J Hirtle

Ten thousand days

Bounteous moments forever faded

Since he first enlightened this lyricist

Guiding my vestal quill.

Through undiscovered lands

With the poise of Gandalf

Proffering measured response to arouse one more query.

The old man stands bent at the waist

The autumn of his life declared by the deep lines upon his face.

His hands unable to conceal a never-ending tremble.

To my youth-filled gaze, he has always seemed ancient

Silver hair with amber tips

Bespectacled eyes behind thick glass

A wooden cane forever choked by his knotted grip.

The morning sun greets our kinship

As I guide him to our old park bench

Quietly we share the new dawn.

I speak first

As oft I do,

Nay, as I always have

I pose my question,

“Where do the tears go when they depart my eyes?”

I undertake more-

“Overpowered by emotions

I cannot disguise

The liquid crystal falls

Trampling shadow trails

Beneath my eyes

So, tell me dear sir,

Where do tears go when they depart my eyes?”

Without a word, his gaze tells all

A glimpse of sadness breaking upon his face

For he knows the reason of my query-

The Healer’s words promised no hope

The cancerous centaur

Mocking their toxic elixir

Spreads venomous tentacles throughout my body

Tendering deadly kisses.

It seems my time here, is nearing the end.

My old friend speaks his reply with an ancient whisper

His slithering smile slowly revealed

He speaks as a teacher

A prophet

A friend

“A Cimmerian Shadow

Impossible to flee

Belongs to the Darkness we dare not see.

Listen closely faithful child-

Your wandering tears are not forsaken

For you my young friend

Cradled in Faith-

A promise of Truth

A vow of Hope

Older than time

Born on the Eve of the Beginning

Destined to awaken.

You have nothing to fear

Soon you will stand in a place prepared for you

There you will see His glorious truth-

Tears never die or fade away

They turn to mist

To be used another day”

“A fathomable grace-

He commands every tear that dares to fall

Stretching out His hand

He gently wipes them all.

Forever erasing our sorrow”.

“That my young friend

Is where the tears go”

Read Poem: Creamy Sky, by Elaine Alibrandi

warm
for winter,
like the
November
I was
sent to
that place—
hermetically
sealed—
bad food—
shrinks
that never
listened.
The staff
openly
watched us
and took
notes while
the TV
blared.
After about
five days,
it seemed
almost
normal.
One patient
had stayed
there seventeen
times,
Another
always had
my back,
The gentle
ex-Marine
with bandages
on his wrists
understood why,
The large,
bedraggled
grandmother
pressed my
face to her
breasts as she
cried.
The
bewildered—
the
irretrievable—
too
vulnerable
for shame.
It felt
a crime
to finally
exit
through
those doors—
always
locked,
forbidding
approach.
After a
week of
breathing
stagnant
air, I rode
shotgun
in the car
toward
a home
no longer
mine,
letting
the wind
toss my
hair.
The
hospital
band still
encircled
my wrist—
the name
on it had
disappeared.
With
scissors
I’d stolen
from the
place,
I cut
it off,
held it
tightly
outside the
window,
and,
hesitating,
trying to
decide,
released
my grip
and let
it fly.

Read Poem: Before It’s Too Late, by John T Leonard

Would any good come of it if I wasn’t here?

If fate has its way, my end could be near.

In this moment of confusion it’s so hard to make sense,

I can’t fathom out what is future or past tense.

The mistakes of the past are vivid in my mind,

I am so lost right now I may as well be blind.

Who would benefit if tomorrow I was gone?

Would anyone rejoice if I had seen my last dawn?

I know there will be those who would weep for a while,

My little girl would now walk herself down the aisle.

No father son camp for my young lad and me,

Next to his uncle round the camp fire he’d be.

I’d miss out on so many things I could’ve looked forward to,

Lost forever in a moment of despair, when this seems the right thing to do.

Aside from the fact of everything I’d now miss,

How selfish am I to put those I love through all this.

What if my thinking is incredibly wrong,

I must know before something irreversible is done.

I’m not going to allow my final curtain to come down or the fat lady to sing,

Having thought about it, no good will it achieve, let’s see what tomorrow will bring….

and

The Darkest Cloud

Dark clouds are forming overhead, a black dog is scratching at my door.

“You’ll get over it” they say, I’m not sure I can take much more.

At every turn is a new challenge,

So much chipping away at me, causing fresh damage.

Friends ask you to promise them that you’re ok.

To appease them, it’s just words you feel you must say.

Guilt is only one of the emotions that you feel,

Remorse, regret, anger, even stupidity, feels irrational yet seems all too real.

You feel so upset your voice can’t even form words.

Others look upon you as if you’re being absurd.

But no one can tell you how you should be.

They’ve not been you, they don’t know what you’ve seen.

So go on and suffer in your own time,

And just have faith that in the long run you’ll be just fine.