Category: poet

Read Poetry: CANDLE IN THE WIND, by Bhavini Vijayanathan

Beginning of the end began,

Despairs soared high

Darkness took swift command.

Running where my legs took,

The only sound was the music of my heart

It was harmonic cacophony to my oblivious ear,

But humming now was ridiculous

And I snapped at my heart.

Arrows flew in my path,

Bullets mocked my speed.

A scream pierced the infinity

Though I was too confident to believe it was mine.

My lungs were out of air,

But my heart still humming;

Falling into the deepest pit,

I knew my life was over.

But the end had just began.

I tried to embrace death,

But he ignored me.

‘The candle is burning’, he said with a scoff.

Zillion pains charged,

And adrenaline rushed over my blood.

My heart was humming.

Too tired, I began listening,

‘The candle’, it said. ‘The candle’.

‘Where?’ I asked

My heart hummed again.

This time though, weaker

I called out from the chasm,

I repeated, ‘Where?’

But everything was silent.

‘Hold on’, someone told me,

A cold raspy voice.

 

I opened my eyes in Heaven,

And never had I imagined, 

Heaven to be dark.

I was lost again.

I was miserably broken.

I placed a hand over my heart

And asked, ‘Why?!’

‘The candle’, my heart hummed. ‘Follow the candle’.

I looked around,

And the candle was a long way to reach.

The place shook, and the world broke.

‘Run to the candle’, said my heart, ‘Run in the wind’.

Wings burst out of me

As my heart enclosed me.

I was flying over the infinity;

I was flying over the darkness.

I grasped my heart stronger,

And I reached the candle.

I took it…

…and the light dimmed.

 

‘Why?’ I wailed. ‘Why?!’

‘The candle in the wind’, my heart hummed,

‘The wind blows the candle;

The light is gone-but not the candle.

Be the candle in the wind;

Face the wind and hold on’.

My heart held me stronger.

Smiling, I grasped it

And cupped my hands over the light;

Ready to be the candle in the wind.

Read Poetry: STANDING IN THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF, by POOJA RAJESH

MY DEAR DARK.

Standing in the edge of the cliff,
Holding my heart, beating fast,
Starring at the endless skies
Hoping that this day would be my last.

 

The clarity of my life lost itself…
In the interruption of my tears,
In my inability to face this world,
I close my eyes, allowing the darkness to conquer me,

 

The entity of Darkness in me made me feel,
The bombardment of memories inside my heart,
Making random sounds in my deepest Darks,
That turns out to be a beautiful melody.

 

” The Stupid Me!” I blame myself,
After the realization of the WORLD beneath my closed eyes,
Never had I imagined that,
My Darkness will be this beautiful.

 

Then I understood that……
My Darkness is not the one that which haunted me…
But the one that made me shine,
Like that of the Dark sky behind the stars,
Even though unnoticed , yet doing its job.
Then I open my eyes with Clarity ,
Now my Tears…. all dried up by the wind against me,
Then I look up the Endless Skies AGAIN and say….
” You are ENDLESS and so am I…” 

 

– POOJA RAJESH.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Read Poetry by John Reyes

I’m a Classic.
There’s no masking it.
I’ve made mistakes,
sat in idle,
and threw a fit.

Every morning, noon, or night,
I fed our ferocious appetite.
The need to speak;
were words unsaid.
Imagination knew no height.

I’m a Classic.
Lost in time—long passed it.
I miss you every day,
Mornings, Noons, and Nights.
Forever a memory, a dusty relic.

Read Poetry: Dear Me, by Juan Mantilla

Dear Me,

I wouldn’t be much of a man if I did not reach out to you. If it’s any consolation, she’s gone now, nowhere near our sight. The pain will vanish as fast as she did, you’ll just have to take my word for it. I know it hurts. I know it feels like every obstacle has a conscience with only one goal: to destroy us. The weight of our cross outweighs everyone’s.

Can’t lie to you, man. The bruises on your wrists, they’ll get darker. The scars, deeper. The tears, heavier and the nights will seem endless. Your battle to outrun the morning as fast as the night bestrides upon you will be fruitless. The sunny days will seem short and the rainy slum will engulf your life. Whenever it seems like it’ll go right, it won’t. However, I am living, breathing evidence that you will get through this. It’s been 697 days, 5 hours, 34 minutes and 28 seconds since our last panic attack. Your bludgeoned mind is incapable of conceiving the blessings that will dismantle the obstacles in your way.

Stay strong.

Without you there is no me.

Yours truly,

YOU

Read Poetry: Think of me, by Romey Norton

I let you fly,

Bon Voyage, goodbye.

Not a tear in my eye, 

after week one went by, 

My heart began to question why.

 

Feelings buried hard in stone, 

an over-grown garden must have grown, 

knocked me dead from my throne, 

You, so happy must have shown, 

a truth inside that made me groan. 

 

In confusion I sit with wine, 

my darling why are you are so divine, 

Without you I can barely shine,

shivers crawling up my spine, 

asking the universe to align.

 

The star you say I out to be, 

Can one learn to be completely free? 

I thought the one would be me.

Dreaming keeps me awake, you see, 

You face filled with glee. 

 

Jealousy is not a trait, 

not one to keep you up late, 

wither and dither you into a state, 

where you cannot appreciate, 

and life becomes an endless wait.

 

Think of me please,

In Cafe’s, in a winters chill breeze,

Do not appease,

Think of me,

For no one was sweeter to you, 

or ever will be. 

I let you fly, 

Bon Voyage, goodbye. 

Across the stars and the seas, 

think of me.

Read Poetry: Beginnings Middles and Ends: Unspoken Stories of One Story, by Sarah dlr

Beginning. 

 

Her eyes.

Dark blue borders the sea green within 

and they begin to flood as her voice tries to sing

And I was told my cries calmed as she rocked me asleep, 

And that’s the story I heard when he told me she loved me. 

 

End.

 

 

Beginning.

 

Seventeen years old. 

He walks me to class with his hand in mine, 

And we talk about life and people and time,

How numbers and minutes control the path that we make, 

And how unofficial rules dictate the risks that we take. 

This strange feeling of nauseousness

That brings sickness with a high, 

a weird state of consciousness, 

I feel it for the first time, 

A little more than puppy love, 

A little less than true love. 

Two years and almost one month.

 

End.

 

 

Beginning.

 

Alcohol does not taste good. 

In a basement of a house two streets down from mine, 

I mimic small talk conversations with a girl I call my friend,

Vodka and whiskey and bourbon mixed with wine, 

I close my eyes and lie down as a blurry world goes by.

A night that went by blind, 

I say,

this is the first and last time. 

 

End.

 

 

 

Beginning.

 

Eighth grade, I have a friend. 

Mostly calm and collected with these short curly curls,

But sometimes short tempered with a stutter. 

He would forget to use his words.

He knows the tricks to fix the things that knack away at me,

He knows all the things that I let loose

Inside the head I let him see. 

One day he grows distant and almost shy,

I push him to talk, to explain, to speak.

With nothing, I turn away from him,  

I say goodbye, 

Eighth grade, I had a friend.

 

End.  

 

 

Beginning.

 

Today he brought her home. 

Her hair bleach blonde with a streak of red

And her eyes seem friendly , 

“It’s okay,” he said,  

“This time it won’t go wrong. 

Try to be accepting, I know it’s hard,

Fourteen is too old,

You can call her by name, 

She’s now part of our world.” 

Two years, three months, six days. 

I don’t remember her name. 

 

End. 

 

 

 

Middle.

 

To young for a mid life crisis, 

Maybe a pre mid crisis.

Misguided, one sided, and as a hole all divided 

I stand straight slightly blinded

and stare blankly hypnotised.

At patterns and routines made from stories make believe,

I mimic the linear words found in these fairy tail endings

And throw away leaves with big creases 

And tiptoe around streets with gasoline stains. 

And forget to notice that the gasoline never burned,

And forget to see that that leaf with all the creases 

is still whole. 

I forgot to see that the boy with curly curls waited a few years

And learned to use his words. 

While I lead myself to here

where I can only speak in metaphors.

 

Middle.

 

 

 

Beginning.

 

I learn how to swing.

My toes reach to try and touch the sandy surface

I push slightly to gain momentum, 

My knees lock and lean out with my arms stretched. 

Exhilarated. Bliss. Euphoria. 

The feeling of content. 

My stomach drops as I come down, 

The first feeling of self satisfaction. 

 

End.

 

 

Beginning.

 

School is not for me. 

Four years left messy memories, and incomplete work. 

Forced in a class, meant for one mind, 

While personalities are left behind, 

I buy one ticket and say goodbye, 

To a time I forgot to be me.

 

End.

 

 

 

Beginning.

 

She is my friend. 

Abandoned by love and confused by misplaced trust 

Overwhelmed by the stench of uncertain facts

And consumed by the simple way of escape 

She walks on air 

And breaths in dust 

Suffocated by the grip of society 

She let herself float on paper 

And sink beneath reality 

Today a stranger to morlas

And tomorrow a lifeline for unspoken words

Only to be noticed by people like her, 

She joins the invisible world. 

She was my friend. 

 

End. 

 

 

 

Beginning. 

 

The tips of my fingers tingle as I draw patterns in the spring water.

The grass made canopy dipps over my head

as I count the clouds in the sky through the reflection of the still pond.

Twenty-three years spent figuring out the years ahead. 

I let myself sink into the ground, 

And I simply live now. 

 

 

 

–Sarah dlr

Read Poetry: WRATH, by Helen Haloulos

To take my hand and slowly tear it

Through your hair and rip your pride

And foolish ways to shreds

To yell and cry until my voice grows hoarse

And I run out of tears

To be angry and not be able to

Let it exit my body

To not let it vent

To trap it

And keep it

And pet it

Until it swells

And bursts

And I leave

Genre: Dark

Read Poetry: I hear the bells ringing, by Larry Perkins

I hear the bells ringing,
Soprano choir singing.
I open the door
to see you up there,
White veil nestled
in impeccable hair.

Row after row
of family and friends,
Seated and arranged
as not to offend.
I cautiously find
my own way in,
The minister says,
“shall we begin.”

“Dearly beloved,
we’re gathered here today,”
I think to myself,
I shouldn’t stay.
My mind starts to wander
to days in the past,
My eyes upon you,
it’s moving too fast.

You were special,
my first true love,
Heaven sent,
I thought from above.
I thought we would spend
a lifetime as one,
Your heart, I begged,
I never won.

I see the ring,
slide on your finger,
Kissing your lips,
the flavor would linger.
You turn as one
and present to the crowd,
Your love to another
officially vowed.

You march down the aisle,
in perfect stride,
Fully enamored
in each other’s pride.
Your eyes meet mine,
a total surprise,
Goodbye, without hesitation, your face implies.

Through the front door
in a hail of rice,
My end to a life
that would have been nice.
Seeing you marry
the man of your dreams,
My heart melting down through tearful streams.

Read Poetry by Gary Lee Thompson III

I see the world through my eyes
wondering if this is all a disguise
Religion seems to hate and divide
So I take a step back and look from the outside
As my thoughts begin to surface
I looked deeper for our purpose

The messages all seem the same
Religion is within us, so I claim
So I it’s OK if you have a different view
I just thought I’d write this for a few

So if we can acknowledge others views of the Savior
One by one we can begin to change our behavior
We were told that Jesus was crucified
Yet still many good people have all died

As I feel the energy within my soul
An army of one is my life’s goal
A higher power, i feel that most truly do believe
So The second commandment is what I perceive

It’s time to tear down these barriers of hate
Unified together as one with no other fate
Hope joy gratitude and do not forget love
Similar messages are being sent from above

Trapped as if we are playing in a game
Where all that matters is money and fame
The world blocked out my mind comes clear
I hear “Be still and listen” but have no fear
The message received, I must comply
I close my eyes and breathe a short sigh

As I awaken and become more aware
Unity, not war is what we must declare
With the world looking brand new
I slowly realize this is what I must do
Lets go because it’s more clear than before
Take thought with me so that we can explore

Different characters I feel we all play
Depending on what face we put on each day
The news, tragedies, and terrible events
We head from all our governments
Take a look inside come on let’s go
If we quiet the mind so does our ego

Turn on the news and don’t you fill Eery
So is it true or a conspiracy theory
All that we know is what we are told
So this line of questioning is what I unfold
This message is not a truth or dare
One nation under God let’s finally declare

If only we could become one powerful community
Maybe no matter our views we will find immunity
All of us masked with the different face
When everyone is just looking for Grace

So let’s start thinking outside the box
The walls come down and off come the locks
We are all one and unique
So the truth is all that I seek
Start to pay attention and you will see the signs
Hidden around us with different unique designs

This message is not to stir up Any hate
Just a different view which we all can relate
It starts formed for the sole purpose of unity
It’s time to come together, let go of scrutiny

This message is now coming to an end
Intuition tells me there’s more I’ll send

ABOUT THE ABOVE WRITING:

WRITTEN/SPOKEN OUT BY GARY THOMPSON III ON 3/17/18 I TALKED DURING DRIVE and SIRI TYPED. UNEDITED. TITLE after discussion of this on the phone was titled “Blackout” by Andrew Bryant.

ODD UNPLANNED BUT FELT COMPELLED LEAVE UNEDITED AND TO SHARE SINCE I DONT WRITE POETRY BUT JUST RANDOMLY PAUSED AND TALKED AS MY PHONE TYPED ON RIDE TO FAYETTEVILLE and I CANNOT RECALL THE WORDS AND SOME OF THE TIME WHILE TALKING THIS OUT…

I DO LIKE THE MESSAGE AND FEEL DUE TO SITUATION TO SHARE! SOME WILL LIKE THE SHARE AND SOME NOT! INTERESTING

Read Poetry: On The Gates Of “Heaven”, by Shahbaz Khan

Is there where the gentle breeze blows?
Is there where the sparkling river flows?
Is this where Cupid hides?
Is this where happiness resides?

Nay, this is where storms rage!
Nay, this is where floods cause carnage!
Nay, this is where Orcus slays families!
Nay, this is where sadness causes casualties!

But I was told this was Eden,
That this is where food and wine are laden!
And I was told that this was where my sorrow ends,
Where the stream is clam, and there are no more tight bends.

Nothing but lies you speak about,
Happiness is a hoax, in that there is no doubt!
Deceit in the world is in plentitude,
There is only gain and loss, no favor and gratitude.

I hope in my heart that you don’t speak the truth,
That there is good, and not just poisonous fruit.
Though my mind knows I hope in vain,
Without my hope, all that will be left is pain.

Pray all you want my foolish acquaintance,
But there is no endless feast, no angel’s dance.
I am the Devil, and I speak the truth!
Is this barren land not enough proof?

It is, but I dare not accept this,
That heaven is none, and the Devil is all there is.
Tell me you lie, that across is where moonlight will shine,
A place serene, a land divine!

In your death you remain a believer,
But there is nothing but my fire, I alone give, and I alone am the receiver.
Inferno is all that is, and ever will be,
There is no God, no heaven to see.

I submit, my faith is yours,
I was fooled by religion, and the con-men’s folklores.
In “his” name I ate and slept,
Oh! What an ugly hand I’ve been dealt.

Fear not, for hell isn’t what they told you!
There is a fire, but to you, no harm it shall do.
It burns those who still walk with blind faith,
The fire is only their own wraith.

But then how are you any different?
From the God you resent?
You are Him, you are the same,
Enough lies! Stop this game!

I do not have people bowing down,
I do not give false hope, only to leave a frown.
I do not have books and monuments in name,
I do not want credit, for I nothing to meddle in your “game”.

You are right, and I know that too.
But to leave all my faith is something I cannot do.
So burn me in your flames, but I can’t let go.
No matter how much proof you show.

Then burn till eternity in this fire.
You chose this over dance and lyres.
The fire will devour you and your soul.
You’ll burn and heal forever, and you bones will be used as coal.

Genres: Devilish, Faithless, Lost Hope, Mythical, Theological

—
Shahbaz Khan
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