Category: poet

Read Poetry: how we unfold love from the moon, by Nosakhare Collins

Lover…..

This is how to unfold love from the moon;
you seat close-by in your crux divan
watching your mouth and hands sleek into praise
into momentum desire that has blossom into revelry
you look up sky as the stars crosses your eyeballs
perhaps which one of them has heart to love;
glimpse the eye to ponder into felicity
but this is how love unfolds from the moon;
you seat right close to your lover
help lifting the hands up to the sky
where the moon unfold love into your river part
then wait as the moon fondle his way into you
crawling his love into your heart
flowers and gift of different kinds
as the flowers and gift break into blossom romantic
clumsy and holding memories with lit candle light
as songs broken into lyrics in the face of moon night.

Poet: Nosakhare Collins

About me—

Nosakhare Collins is a budding Nigerian poet, writer, literary critic and a tutor. He is a student in the Accounting department of Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma–Edo State. His works including book reviews has appeared and are forthcoming in anthologies, journals and various literary outlets which include Sevhage Reviews, Antarctica Journal, Least Bittern Books, Dwart Magazine, Youth Shades Magazine, WRR (words, Rhythms and Rhymes) and so on. He is currently working hopefully towards his chapbook (a collection of poems). He writes from Nigeria, and can be reached through his Facebook: Nosakhare Collins, Twitter: @nosa_collins, Instagram: nosakharecollins

Read Poetry: Hanger Anger, by David John Shafer

Five chief virtues.

Achieving curfews.

Curb views.

Cell wishing.

Herb stews.

Blurb news.

Haggling hulk hues.

Aura acoustic truth fit.

Obtuse kit.

Muse wit.

Use it.

Noose bit.

Loose pit.

Eat love slay.

Ayer mi way.

All so filet.

The ego tale underway.

Gwyneth Paltrow production.

Inducted hall of fame suction.

Undone untuck bad luck spun.

Public displays of disgust.

Discussing distrust anti fist thrust.

Third eye throttler.

Trouncing toddlers.

Tottering robbers.

All’s well that ends in hell.

Cursed Earth’s dead.

Earth bled.

Gaia mother skin shed.

Love led.

Lost lovers lack leniency.

Even Steven sequencing.

Rebreathed frequencies.

Sequin seas.

Heavenly decrees.

Ebeneze ergonomic incendiaries.

Celestial fairies.

The derrière dare.

Fair hair wear.

Honorability* goner tranquility.

Assimilation imitation.

Meditation edit deviation.

TV dinner nation.

Yellow head condemnation.

(*Honorability-­‐concerning honor)

Read Poetry: WE R HUMANS by Gladys W. Muturi

Genre: Humanity

We are human beings living on the planet called “Earth”

We are young

We are old

We are the past, present, and incoming future

We are male and female

We are gay and straight

We are the winners that take all

We are the losers we fall

We are Black

We are White

We are Latinos, Asians, and all of the above

We are best friends, lovers, and enemies

We are one’s nation under God’s oath

We are alive and well

We are sick and dead

We are disgusted by our behavior

We are dumb when we make mistakes

We are smart when we pick up the pace

We are right from wrong

We are wrong from right

Right where we are, where were from, and who we are

We are forgiven

Forgiven our enemies on what they did to us

We are loved

We need to be loved

Don’t hate us

We’re not ugly

We are beautiful, beautiful people

We should love each other, not fight

We bleed red blood, but we are different

We are violent because we want blood

We are mad because we want more

We are sad because we can’t take it.

We fight because we want to start a war

We want to stop, but we can’t stop, we won’t stop

Why can’t we?

We need help, who can help us?

We are strangers

We shouldn’t hate strangers

We shouldn’t hate children, our children

We shouldn’t hate God

We are not monsters

We are humans that speak our minds

We are Americans loving our country

We are humans build to destroy

We hate lies, betrayal, and discrimination

We hate rape, murder, racism, and drugs

We want love

Hand in Hand

We need Hugs and Kisses

We are helpers helping one human being after the other

We are who we are

We are humans

Read Poetry: Just, you.., by Marc Libidinsky

…coffee…bitter for the day;
Sweet as your smile;
Creamed with your words…Wake up,
Sleepy Head…

…a hug…for the bitter day;
Affectionate nibbles;
Sounds, more convincing than words…A hug,
Lady Bug?

…talking in your sleep…not finished with the day;
A tender kiss on your head;
Our tomorrow can wait…Dream true dreams,
My love…

Read Poetry: Eerie Sea, by Patrick Turner-Lee

Awkward silence: the peace a violent under performing scream
Slicing cobwebs from the ceiling 
Feelings crumble in just about time to make the clock

 

Busking bravely to earn a crust
If you must
Bust the bank with crowbars to get an ounce of sense
Not media just a fact for frustration 

 

Break in glass slippers: Just bits left behind 
Never mined the shattering; illusive, baking hot, tin roof reason.
Flat you lent is parting the cheeks
Flapping the wind swept alleyways of leaves.
In the eaves flicking seaweed at the passers by.

 

Clever tricks never opened the window to let in some air
As if we care
As if we fidget when poked with a sharp prick
A needle in the vein
A sharp instrument to flush the chained up latrine
Obscene and relentless

 

 

November 28th 2017

Read Poetry: Poem by Anthony E. Perillo

Oh, the whispering night,
The whispering night.
How softly does it speak
Of twinkling stars,
And pale moonlight,
And the rustling of the leaves.

Now it makes no sound
As it gathers round
All the things that earth contains.
While its soft caress
Leads the heart to rest,
Where the gentle stillness reigns.

From the realm of the day
Where King Hectic holds sway;
The night comes as a foe.
Brandishing its cloak
All of ebony smoke it
Sweeps the harshness away.

And the clouds as they glide
Past the moon in the sky
Make a candle aflickering
It seems. As if to remind
The deep darkness in time
That the sun in the heavens still beams.

Oh, the whispering night,
Oh, the whispering night,
A melancholy caller is he.
Though he sometimes brings dread;
When we’re snuggled abed
It’s as cozy as cozy can be.

by Anthony E. Perillo

Read Poetry: Blood Manner Panache, by Robin Carretti

Everything was playing so “Gusto”

Like he became Heavenly blood brothers

“Maestro” at the London Metro.

Having hotter than hell fling

But people were more than blood things

Feeling like a substitute or big “Hero”

What happens to some of them

they weren’t waking or O or B- cups

drinking

But a style of panache

The style of grace or disgrace

showing deeper how it cuts

like the “Reaper” all circumstances

Fewer but true redder romances

the evidence got flown away

but miraculous something has to give

Like a stewed “Hungarian Goulash”

miracles time for hot fetishes

You just felt eclat what a cliche these Vampires and

their maidens. With the raw bite of her bodice

styles were becoming. But a bigger blood manner

was moving toward her so risque

Dances storing more blood trances

of a repertoire

Their necks were suffocating watching another

lover was mating like a web server

“The Others” were sleepwalking deserter

Like another language takes over

a code talking nevermore

Back to life a style forming another soul

to capture, but the wrong type of blood

failure whats to prevail?

Like self-murder so red

Vampire’s attached bloody email

Some were at the spa-like looking wolf-like

howling that strip of a face peel

so habitually like blood uses

The best collection of blood choices

So mainstream another erotic dream

Like a style or seeing hot gesture

So popular stream forevermore

At the concert, he noticed who she was

Knock dead bloody Tis the holiday features

That maestro what style Panache

Like a french Brulee bite of toast

He was the hot bloody roast he

got her blood the most

Read Poetry: Via De Cristo, by Marc Libidinsky

I watch You pray upon Your knees

In the garden of Gethsemane,

And hear Your voice, both sure and meek,

Travail in earnest agony;

Still, wondering at Your sweat and blood –

Is strength in this and is this love?

I watch in silence as You stand

In silent protest, a just man;

Watching, see a man so wracked,

Without help, so attacked,

Until death brings some peace,

If not a just and sweet release.

I watch the faithful lay You down,

Anoint with myrrh Your bloody brow;

And, one by one all disappear,

Fearing as the night draws near:

Yet, with the morning mourning flees

As You ‘rise and bring sure peace.

Your Grace is strength and purity;

So, when I wonder at its reach,

From Heaven’s height to Calvary,

From life to death to victory,

From first confessions to the last;

I find Grace equal to the task

Your crucifixion posed to me,

So bare my cross as pleases Thee.

(c) Marc Libidinsky, 2017