Category: poetry

Zoom-ing with Students, by Sophia Scoppettone

When I speak to the kids on Zoom,
I try not to be filled with gloom,
To not think about
How I’m filled with doubt
That I will see them any time soon.

Instead I just try to be there,
To be present and show that I care,
To hear what they say,
Right now, on this day,
And act as though I’m unaware.

Unaware that I may not see them at all.
Unaware that we might not go back in the fall.
Unaware that their year of kindergarten is done.
Yes, I’m unaware so we can try to have fun.

We talk, and I learn:

Millie read a chapter book all on her own,
And Rowan is building a treehouse at home,
And Nathan works out with his grandma each day.
Mateo was shy and didn’t know what to say,

But he showed me the Bible he told me he reads,
And Xavier showed me the tadpoles he feeds,
And Abby showed me her scrapbook, which describes
How she went to Disney and rode on lots of rides.

And So:

So I don´t tell the kids
All the worries and doubts.
When they ask me how I am,
I say: ¨Great! Now tell me about…¨

And then I just listen,
Nod, and ask ¨Why?¨ or ¨How?¨
Yes, students keep me focused
On what´s here and now.

f r e e d o m, by Laura Minning

She extends Her arms
embrace me
with kindness and compassion,
but i never thank Her.

She is my mother,
my sister,
my friend.

She allows me to choose
my own path
and make my own mistakes
without passing judgement
upon me.

And how do i repay Her
(for Her benevolence)?
…by taking Her for granted.

For if she ever became wounded
or hurt in any way,
(by resistance or tyranny)
…who would take Her place?

(She has always been there for me
–at my side,
for as long as I can remember
…so who could take Her place?)

No one…
…and I would be lost.

~laura minning
excerpt from “sunburst”
published by xlibris
c. may 2005

When We were Birds, by Chanchal Vyas

Once upon a time when
you and me were birds,
we measured the vast
expanse of skies from
this inch to that corner.
we have seen shifts in
seasons under the gloss
and silhouettes of our wings.
we chirped and tweeted
with other fellow ones
over the clouds
over the mountains
over the course of sea.
we inked paradise
all over our little bodies
so when we flattered
them feathers we effused
the airs with a delightful
music and played on loop
an only track we by-hearted
when we were born

Out of a thousand things
that we would be
Why were we birds only?

Because,
Birds do not cry
They are a happy thing
we deserved to be
of all thousand things.

Aren’t you tired of NYC?, by Marcela B

Many of us arrived in NYC with one luggage and a heart full of dreams.
When you are in New York city, you get psyched with its energy and immediately you start to ask why?

At the beginning you don’t know if it is because the astonishing architecture that intertwine the ” old” and the ” new”.
You don’t know if it is because the modern skyscrapers or because all the last century buildings with their emergency exit facades showing off.
You just feel it.

You don’t know if it is because the Broadway lights that makes you feel you’re in a non-stop, never ending party.
Or if it’s because the beauty of the Central Park that makes you feel you’re somewhere else for a moment.
You just feel it.

You don’t know if it is because this idea that you can be anywhere in less than 30 min by subway. Ah….the subway, this old, dirty, democratic and now first time disinfected system that carries the entire city from the homeless to the rich, from ordinaries to the celebrities.
You just feel it.

You don’t know if it’s because the bike lanes and citi bikes that makes you feel the wind in your face, the sun on your skin.
You just feel it.

You don’t know if it is because it feels you’re inside a movie set… is it fantasy? is it reality? Maybe both.

After sometime in New York, sooner or later you may realize the magic of this city actually does not rely on the outside.
The magic, the true magic, rely on the inside.

NY is tough, not everyone can make it here. It can be overwhelming.
You don’t know if it’s because the high rental fees and limited space.
Or if its because this city requires too much from you – NY always raises the bar.
From work, to restaurants, entertainment, to the possibilities… a wealth of possibilities.
You just feel it.

This constant and exhausting idea of #empirestateofmind that moves everything and everyone above and beyond.
You just feel it.

Now in middle of a pandemic anyone could think why stay in New York, why just not fly somewhere else, escape far away from this madness?

Well, New York never adapts to your desires, never adjust to your dreams, nor compromise. This city will punch you in your face more than you can possibly sustain, over and over again.

In the end, we are NY tough.
We know that we will fall not just once but many times, but we will rise stronger again.
We know that if we can make it here we can make it anywhere. We take this statement by heart.
We know this city has our back, for the best and the worst.

Today I can tell I am and always will be in love with this city, even tough every winter I may think otherwise, even tough I am living in the eye of the hurricane right now. The resilience found here cannot be found anywhere else.
You just feel it

It’s a privilege to call NYC home.
It’s a blessing to be surrounded for all the inspiring and spectacular minds that feed NYC’s veins and make us all addicted to be here, thus we persist.
We just feel it.

ASYLE, by Zoran Mimica

Asyle – and this is not a poem – this is a demand

I want to see the world or even a village, a town, a province if not a state
where there are no drugs, no cigarretes, no cigarette buts, no smoke
and no smoking and no abuse of drugs and alcohol and no violence……

Please let me know where is any available? Can I, maybe, establish it or I have to wait for the Kingdom of God to enter into it?

Is there question or answer? Angels help me!
I accept illnesses and old age and dying but not the above items? Why we cannot live and die without pain and longing, without desperation and sorrow?

Letter to Solitude, by Jiji Schemann

Lettre à la solitude

Quand tu es née, on ne se comprenait probablement pas. Je te parlais sachant bien que tu étais là en moi, Je tentais de t’écouter de l’intérieur mais ce n’est qu’après quelques mois que je réussi à me connecter avec toi et recouvrer le sens de mes émois.
Tu m’as donné quelques coups tu parfois, mais seulement parce que tu étais en quête d’un espace temps, un endroit où écoute et protection feraient foi d’un foyer légitime, un genre de toit
Et maintenant tu vois, j’ai fait quelques échographies de mon surmoi, J’ai tendu l’oreille vers ce cœur qui bat, Et j’ai saisi la valeur de ta présence ici-bas
Chère Solitude, saches que je serai toujours là pour toi Et un jour tu t’émanciperas de tout ce qui, et ceux qui autour de toi font tout un cinéma De ce que tu es, qui tu seras, tu leur offriras un fier schéma De ce qu’est être Soi, à minima.

Letter to Solitude

When you were born, we probably did not understand each other. I was talking to you knowing that you were there inside me, I tried to listen to you from the inside, but it was only after a few months That I was able to connect with you and regain the meaning of my emotions.
You gave me a few blows sometimes, But only because you were looking for a space of time, A place where listening and protection would be a sign of a legitimate home, a shelter to shine.
And now you see I’ve done some ultrasounds of my superego; I’ve turned my ear to this beating heart, And finally grasped the value of your presence here below…
Dear Solitude, know that I will always be there for you And one day you will emancipate yourself from all these, and all those who around you Will make a whole cinema of what you are, who you will be, you will offer them a proud schema Of what it is to be your own Self, with no dilemma

Carta a la soledad

Cuando naciste, probablemente no nos entendíamos. Te hablé sabiendo que estabas ahí en mí, intenté escucharte desde dentro, Pero sólo después de unos meses pude conectar contigo Y recuperar de mis emociones su significado
Me diste algunos golpes a veces, pero sólo porque buscabas un espacio de tiempo, Un lugar donde la escucha y la protección darán fe de un hogar legítimo, una refugio.
Y ahora verás, he hecho algunos ultrasonidos de mi superego, He vuelto mi oído a este corazón que late, Y he captado el valor de tu presencia aquí abajo…
Querida Soledad, sabe que siempre estaré ahí para ti Y un día te emanciparás de todo eso, y los que te rodean harán todo un cinema De lo que eres, de lo que serás, les ofrecerás un orgulloso esquema De lo que es ser « Yo », sin dilema

POETRY READING: CLAP, by Darell J Philip

Performed by Allison Kampf

Windows opened
Mum and I screaming at the top of our…
You know, that organ which
Mr Corona makes the point of his attack
Our voices in unison with the carnival of faces
Hand clapping together among our block
For those brave front liners
Robed in white and blue
Their lives risking for Queen and Country
For me and you

A sign in a window reads
Hang in there Hackney
Locked down, stuck in isolation
Longing to be free
Hooting and beeping cars drive by
An outpouring of love filling the illuminous sky
Dethroning Mr Corona from his royal seat
His nasty legacy we will surely defeat

An unusual crescendo took place that night
The community together an awesome sight
It was to everyone’s most absolute delight
To see Mr Corona given a most chilling fright
For all the lives he’s cruelly taken away
For all those families we kneel and pray
Our frontline heroes – relics of the past
For you we clap knowing this too shall past

The morning after the night before
A bright smile beams across the sky
As a reminder of that glorious day soon to come
When from this earth with angel’s wings
We take off and fly.

POETRY READING: Cosmogony, by Iuliana Pașca

Performed by Allison Kampf

I would like to tell you about my birth
but how to start with no beginning?
…
Mother said I was born
ahead of my time;
I don’t remember,
but I know I was there when
I also gave birth to my mother.

I saw when from the heart
the galaxies
gushed streamingly,
suns were smiling on the spine
rasing satellites
from the tireless breath.
Neurons formed stars
in the rainbow hair,
while Mars was preparing
for the fight.

From the fingers of the left hand
it detached,
together with the rings, Saturn
then, as lightning,
Jupiter came out of nowhere,
and to my feet
was lying down
the Earth.

POETRY READING: What Will Be Your Legacy, by The P.O.E.T. aka The Anointed Pen

Performed by Allison Kampf

By: Noel A. Figueroa (The P.O.E.T. aka The Anointed Pen) ©2020

When your book is opened, what will be read in the story of your life?
What will be your story that is on display for all to see?
Will it speak of your courage to persevere?
Will it speak of your determination and faith?
Will it speak of your kindness and compassion for others?
Will it speak of your empathy and diligence?
Will it speak your reflection of your love and hope in God?
Will it speak of the love you have for yourself, your community, your people?

What will be your legacy?
Will it speak your ancestor’s names and the roads they paved for you?
Will it speak of their sacrifices and their successes?
Will it speak of the lessons learned from their failures?
Will it put your achievements on display?
Will your own failures be lessons learned and used as stepping-stones?
Will it speak of a life well lived to its full capacity in purpose?

What will be your legacy?
When the children gather around and ask you to tell the stories from your time,
What will your share that will enlighten their minds?
What will be the level of your impartation?
Will you tell them that as you received help to be the vessel of blessing to others?
Will you tell them that respect, empathy and compassion are non negotiable?
Will you tell them to stand for something even if it means standing alone?
Will you tell them that one of the greatest weapons that you can have is love & respect for self?
Will you tell them that it’s because if those that came before us that we have the ability to go further and do greater works?
Will you tell them that when their purpose is clear, their passion is defined, and their vision is focused that their dreams and goals are possible.
What will be your legacy?

about saying goodbye to my grandmother by Lauren Burstein

Instagram: @laurenrachel414

it wasn’t possible.
in DNA, in gestures
you remain.
your dark European years,
now woven, abstract haunts.
saying goodbye is a social construct,
because
my vision of you
experience of you
transcends celestial orbits.
even when you’re lost,
i always find you
in nursery rhymes,
in chicken soup
in my mother’s face.
without a goodbye there is no closure,
but love moves in open space.