Category: poet

Read Poetry: ALONE, by Stephanie Ann Annis

Alone in the dark of night
No thoughts of a future in sight
Life is drab and thoroughly sad
So scared of the things daily life brings
No longer part of the grind
Feel like I’ve lost my mind
Darkness abounds
No friendly faces around
Wondering with fear
What criminals are lying near
Preparing weapons
Kitchen knives and Teflon
Thinking, a gun
I should have bought one
Wondering in my heart
Why this fear life imparts
Knowing its clear
This weirdness developed over years
As I struggled and fought
Learning control we have not
Though, we strive to present
This perception of strength

Read Poetry: Scaling, by Joan Livingston

Hopefully, you are spiders, 

scaling streams of silk along the beams of this poem.

If this were the airiest house,

a poem without borders,

a building without roof

but with a wall high like teak trees hard and tall in East India,

walls fourteen thousand feet high or more,

you could climb them.

The younger spiders can 

and what is younger but ambition.

The old are drunk enough with tiredness 

to know it doesn’t matter

this rushing and doing,

this climb.

That death takes care of it all 

in its precise mothering

by pushing us out of this life

to float on currents thousands of miles to the next.

Read Poetry: A Good Workout, by Bree Rommel

Do not look!
Thou shalt not look
I daren’t even cast a curious glance
At the odd creature with a perky ass
That walked into my gym at five o’clock,
Of course – the cursed spinning class.
I must not look, I shan’t submit –
My brain is pulsing with the healthy beat
Of lust and life and them combined
Treason, treason of the blood! the old Bard states proud
I’ll have that lying, cheating head –
– Between her toned legs at once, the Scottish dialect declares
Duffy! Be quiet. Not here, not now, not on this damned mat.
My slimy body drips deceit –
Bend over, cheater! Millay screams.
Embrace the treason:
Love and other abstract nouns
Make very little reason
To displace one’s dissatisfaction
Upon the undeserving, soulless steel.
I sigh and do as I am told –
Amidst the chaos, one thought persists and rises above all:
I beg of you, my nameless, bald beloved,
Please fuck me hard against this wall!

Genre: Cocky, Funny, Sexy

Read Poetry: TRUTH, by Eftichia kapardeli

Water deeply to
roots effortlessly in
equanimity with earth united
the graces of truth
Similar is with the
love and heart’s desire
***
But in the cosmic game
the absurdity of the times
sowing thickens
worn small
erroneous lives
in a temporary
drunkenness chimera
For power, for spoils
***
The truth liberated
from Circle of illusion
spreads soul streets
Beauty sharp chisel

Read Poetry: Take No More Prisoners, by JoAnne Macco

https://joannaoftheforest.wordpress.com/

Take no more prisoners.

Teach them the skills

Of their ancestors

Who thrived for centuries

In icy blue waters

Living in freedom

With dignity.

Watch them live wild

Leaping for joy,

For their own reasons,

Not for our entertainment.

Ask their forgiveness

For the depravity

Of their captivity.

Listen to their songs

Rising from the depths

Of the wide ocean

Not from concrete misery.

Learn from their truth,

Untarnished

By human manipulation.

Read Poetry: Essential, by Celeste de Wet

Is this the essence of it all?
Is it the all of what we have?
Is the essence mothers’ loving arms enfolding a broken heart?

Do we always know it all?
Is this the essence of it all?

What is your fact to be?
The centre of this revolving world?
The essential pivot?

Is it our peaceful contemplation of wisdom, the knowledge?
That we are all still students?

Would this be an important detail for future, for present?
Or should it remain in the past?

Is this your essence of it all?
Is this your essential?
Your essence of it all

Read Poetry: WOOD IN THE RAIN, by Kevin Morris

My hair is barely wet 

At all 

And yet 

The rain did fall 

As I stood 

In yonder wood. 

 

The yammer 

Of a hammer 

Reached my ear, 

While the birds free 

Sang to me 

As I touched the flowers 

That know not hours. 

 

 

 

 

 

Read Poetry: Don’t Paint the Roses, by A. Gouedard

she remembered she was falling
reaching for a cake crumb
swallowing a draught
that completely turned her head

 

she was running round the roses
painting red and white
challenging the chess board
to maneuvers in the dark

 

she had a distant memory
of a love that struck a spark
but the tables all kept turning
when he tried to take her hand

 

in the horrors and delusions
that stalked this troubled land
he loved her all the time
but he had lost his mind

 

lovers often lose their way
whether they are sane or mad
all is topsy-turvy
when the news is always bad

 

they race around in shadows
trying to find a light
their dreams become a nightmare
ruining their night

 

but up above the stars shine out
constellations point the path
if only they could both sit down
gazing up at last

 

the roses never needed paint
he knew that all along
check mate only brings an end
to more that can be done

 

lovers only need to sit
and think what love’s about
and forget the silly games
that pull them inside out

Read Poetry: DEATH IN THE SODA FACTORY, by Irma Beridze

We washed bottles, rinsing them in icy water,
We wore high galoshes and our feet got wet,
The other ladies were my mother’s age,
I was nineteen,
And promised myself,
Among the banging of bottles,
And the burbling of water,
“I will not leave you here,
I will not leave you!”

During a break we would take off wet aprons,
Sit at a table,
And either joke or complain,
That the soup lacked salt,
Or they would talk about children,
Relating about cutting fingers on the edge of bottles,
“You will not stay here,
You will not stay!”
I repeat.

The factory boss would usually lay me down flat at the lunch table,
A bald man with a beer belly,
I reached down to the bottom of his sweet bottles with brushes,
He starts to gossip like a brush inside of me,
“I will not leave you here”
I whispered.

Some trade unions helped us in a strike,
We demanded:
A change of management,
And some safe work,
Benefits for missed days,
The dismissal of of the Director.

Standing with heavy galoshes
In water up to the knees,
Being quiet,
Mute,
Was not life,
But death
In a windowless,
Sweetly scented,
Soda factory.