Category: poetry

YEAR 2016, Poetry by Husaina Shabbir

 

This year sped by, 
Waning away like a moon in the sky. 
Exotic events took place this year, 
New discoveries were made, my dear. 
Twelve months whizzed pass splendidly, 
Year’s goals were achieved flourishingly. 
Sunny summers were longer, 
It was an affect of global warmers. 
X–mas was during winters thankfully, 
Teenagers, children and adults enjoyed it tremendously. 
England’s queen turned ninety, 
Exactly ten years left for centennial jubilee. 
New Year has arrived finally. 
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Welcome to Hell, My Son, Poetry by Justan Acre

Genre: Life

 You didn’t need to summon me; I was always close by. I have been with you since the first day you told me you wanted them to die. You hate the world for the way it has treated you blaming others for all you lack. Every step you take forward they push you two steps back. You hate because they hate you each and every one. “It is time to make them pay”, I whispered to you, then you bought the gun.

You called upon me then and I wished you well – “kill them all and look upon them as you stand next to me at the gates of hell” “If you do this there will be no turning back but remember they stole from you, they are responsible for all you lack.” ” Their names you do not know only the faces you see. The faces laughing, taunting, looking away, yes, alive no more will they be.”

I saw a brief hesitation in your eyes, “use the Gun!” I commanded “You hate them each and every one! Do not hear their cries, do not listen to their lies.” “And you will watch them pass through the gates as you stand next to me, stand next to me at the gates of hell.”

And I watched with so much pride as you stole their life the way they stole from you. Your rage gunned down each and every one, no mercy you did show You killed nameless faces, maybe some you did know. It did not matter, they were numbers, you laughed as the death number did grow.

“Time for you to take your rightful place, my son, for you have served me well. For your reward, it is here with me where forever you will dwell. ” No longer will you stand next to me, now you shall pass through the gates of hell.” ” The lives you took were for me not you, why would I care about your rage?” ” Your soul I take with me forever to live like an animal in a cage. Do not look at me with eyes filled with surprise, it is your hate that made me rise. You called upon me for many years, in your youth, it was I who wiped away your tears. I filled you with hatred, you knew no fears. “You know my name now say it!! I hear your heart beating within. Yes, I have many names, my son, but the one I enjoy is Satan!”

“I must leave you now, another soul summons me, one full of more hate. So enjoy eternity with the ones you killed, for you are all together behind the gate.” ” Yes, you fool, you served me very well.”

” Welcome, my son, welcome to hell.”

 

 

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first date, Poetry by dm gillis

Genre: Romance

—-

you should know, my dear
that there is no romance
like the romance of rhyme 
 
& not just the sound
of sounds in time 
 
but the spoil & echo of a night judged too long
when someone’s left weeping
& the air lush with wrong 
 

 

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NO BETTER DAYS SCHOOL BOY, Poetry by Fayia Foray

Genre: Life
—-
He strived to be formal but till date poverty sleeps in his pocket  
Education is key to success, is hypothetical 
Same the words: education is better than silver and gold 
T’s all then. 
Now is money? 
These are the days when economy bites deep in thy flesh and soul 
With poverty smelling in the atmosphere, 
You’re uselessly educated while that uneducated is usefully rich and eating fat 
When he was just young, he was bitten to school. 
Seeing the elders in luxuries, he anticipates for success. 
Dreaming the fantasy of success 
He ate cassava mixed in the red blood of the palm tree, 
Took naked steps in an unchanged uniform to the room of various 
During the three steps you steadily suffer 
Primary, you cry 
Secondary, expense starts 
Tertiary, ohh!, expenditure surrounds your body and activates thy soul 
You spend dozens and thousands of thousands, 
 Counting millions and trillions for those in that chair who dislike same for you 
Out of those three worlds, there is another which is heavier…the job.  
T’s hard to come by  
Walking with thy brown packet of ordinary papers seeking job 
And your drop out friend is busy tailoring money in his tailoring shop 
The two who is poor? 
Perfume walks all over him while you stink in thy unbearable sent 
After the Mighty, money laughs wherever, however and whenever.  
I bet, it even slaps the law. 
You’re sick when poverty dances on you. 
Only learn for advantage but not for riches 
Riches walk thy way with hard work and smartness 
None is weak it’s only effort, and not thy rush makes you achieve the archive 
Somehow, thy road must be made, but not when it’s over the long unabridged river 
Poverty smells on you old-boy while you smile richness you see not 
. 
By Fayia Foray 

 

 

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Watch Delirium of Memories, Poetry Movie by Gloria Gonsalves

Made by the WILDsound Writing Festival

Narration by Steven Rizzo

Visual Design by Carey Daiter

Produced by Matthew Toffolo

Close up of a yellow pencil erasing the word, ‘memories’ from old, yellowed paper

The Numb Vessel, Poetry by Susie G. Carmichael

Genre: Life, People

How can I write what I feel when i dont feel a thing.
I am into dope music, but by myself, is when i sing
to beautiful metaphors, raw lyrics, and melodic symphonies.
That’s why I want to rescue those artist from that dirty industry.
Because from the dirty corners of my brain, they have rescued me.
You’re an amazing artist and too talented; from control, propaganda, bad deals, you should be free.
People believe what they hear and listen to what they see.
Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who understands that not everything isn’t what it seems.
I want to end the deception and own a record company.
One that encourages exploration of artistic integrity.
All of your morals and all of your soul would be for you to keep.
God has given you position of unique saviors so praise i give to thee.
The devil uses your position of power to only speak of sex, drugs, and division of communities.
Over at _______ records they’ll be nothing short of Kings and Queens speaking of uplifting subjects and on our deserved possessions of royalty.
And of course the occasionally shake your tail feather for everyone to enjoy at parties and move your feet.
But business comes first.
May freedom sing on a Black Friday. Nightmare on wall Street. Trick or treat.
No more albums and buck a meet and greet.
You all are the real angels of music, with God, Satan, you shall defeat.
That “one man shouldn’t have all that power.”
His 33rd he calls holy land, over there he frequently creeps.
But “perfection is so, mm,” sow what you reap.
The wrath of the good is coming, the industry is number one public enemy.
Help us, help you. You are already crowned.

Now just Let me cross you to victory.

 

 

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Sometimes, Poetry by Micheal Ace

Genre: Society, Rhyme

Sometimes I know the sky is not happy
But I besiege them to hold back tears
Sometimes I buy myself some fancy wears
For how you appear tags you a price
Sometimes I know the universe is boring
But the sun has no choice but to smile
.
Sometimes I say my thoughts so loud
Because someone might hold them dear
Sometimes I learn new and stylish steps
For we don’t define beauty on one spot
Sometimes I know how far I am from love
But I cloth some poems in charming words
.
Sometimes I hold on to my mother’s eyes
Even though they won’t stay there forever
Sometimes I give father some clear shots
So I may hold his grin till the end of time
Sometimes I let my mind do the cries
Because none of these memories will last
.
Sometimes I wish these times never end
Even though I see better days coming
Sometimes I hope I can change the past
For I have seldom made mama smile
Sometimes I do not find meaning to these words
But I write them so I may have my peace
.
.
Micheal Ace
#magicalpoe

 

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UNDER THE POURING RAIN, Poetry by The Surrealist

Genre: Rhyme, Life

Our love for sure was a suppressed story

Chained in complete clandestine,

While the stars giggle as we found snugger in each arms

While the moon fortified our path through a wonderful love

While the dark skies camouflaged the unrevealed torment of the future

While the wind heard the whistling, rustlings of the hushed sweetness

While the clouds canopied us from tears

Our love was reserved only for the two of us, hoarded…

So, when our love was falling, drifting, ripping apart

Tears had to fall gracefully, carefully

So nobody could hear the rippling pain, not a single soul alive

While the stars?

The moon?

The skies?

They could do nothing but gazed us, parting ways- rifted, ruptured

For the last time, before I go North and you trod down South

We cuddled under the pouring rain

Wishing the waters would take away every bit, every piece of pain…

 

 

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Fontanelle, Poetry by David Leo Sirois

Genre: Rhyme, Life

 

Fontanelle

Clocks have been stripped from all walls

as well as all forgotten gods

in an orchestrated effort to disorient us all

 

in the cylindrical silver corridor where time abides

in its own loneliness almost absent at this time

 

Even the eyes of my eyes cannot trace

how long it has lasted & how far it will stretch its

long thin limbs It is not available for questioning at this time

 

At this time we cannot say or guess

the trajectory of flashes on/off

to open wide eyelids & shut them down again

 

The space between seconds is

interminable unbearable at times & the length of

my spine immeasurable this moment

 

The crown of my head quietly lifting off

of its own volition

 

Fragile circle of my fontanelle The point of gentle

pressure from below The tiniest bit of dust is

all I am capable of carrying at times

 

My questions sing in an unbroken flow of

legato notes a melody of urgency

toward a certain yet forever unexpected end

 

The rest is silence he said & let go of his breath

 

 

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Gone, Poetry by minusthecynic

Genre: Religion, Inspirational

Gone: 
Goodbye opportunity to set the record straight 
Farwell comfortable silences , whispered and screamed love songs to Jesus in attempts to beat the 
summer heat 
Long dreary days 
Tear stained eyes 
Hard to deal with attitudes and personalities larger than life 
Differences of opinion, divergent paths we walk on 
Yet there is love between us buried amidst this madness 
And that’s why it aches so much inside my heart 
Cos there is no turning back the hands of time 
I will never get that period back again 
When I could have filled in the blanks 
Told you all those things you didn’t know about me 
I don’t think I ever will 
Even if I get the chance 
Cos there are some things you are better off not knowing 
Even if problems become halved when we distribute them out amongst your blood and flesh 
Why would I want to make your life more difficult by struggling to summon up the love required 
In response to my situation 
I’d rather not make your life a simulation of a living hell 
Far better for you to continue on with your life in happy smiling ignorant bliss 
Than to possess the knowledge that your own kindred has done something dreadful 
Trespassed upon the unthinkable boundary 
Crossing the threshold into the dark realm of undiscovered country that should have remained 
Unkempt and free of exploration by absolutely anyone 
My soul was cannibalized and colonized like a colon cancer 
And I do not possess the answer within me 
As to why I would allow my mind to become deceived in this way 
Yet that is the biggest reason why our time has been thieved so rapidly 
Why I find myself desperately rushing my words hoping to create some semblance of normality 
In the way the two of us relate 
 
 
Even if you think my mentality is out of date 
You never said as much to my sweet and sour indulging face 
You never completely gave up on me 
As I did you 
Dismissing your very existence 
Shunning you like the pilgrims once did 
As if that would bring your eyes any closer to heaven 
And pull you any further away from a hellish future 
Oh so scornful am I of the way you live your life 
Yet when faced with temptation I cave I crumble just as you once did 
So who am I the high and mighty one fallen off his haughty Clydesdale 
Regaling you with mystic charm the bale of hay wailing in your arms 
Is it a more dangerous thing to possess 
Arms if you be an amputee or just like me limbed and reckless 
What if everything we once loved and cherished about the way we relate to each other 
Has disappeared forever beyond the horizon’s vanishing point 
You are far more charitable towards me in your thoughts than I ever was to you 
And I wonder why I deserve such grace when all I ever do is spit in your face 
Just treat you with contempt and act like I’m exempt from responding to kindness  
With something other than cruelty and disdain 
Some other mood than irate closed off disregard for human life 
Leaving you alone to do your own thing 
While I tread down my path, aloof head in the clouds 
Can I be any more like Jesus I ask myself 
Can I start over , act as if the preceding weeks had not been a challenge 
To keep the nightmares bursting out my head 
To draw you deeper in my dark callous net 
If only I could perfectly reflect 
The love I aim to emulate Jehovah gives me 
If I had but the will and strength inside me 
To overcome my straying towards worldliness 
 
 
V2 
What I am really angry about 
More than anything else in the world 
Is mostly myself 
For allowing all these hours to slip through my fingers 
Was it fear of confrontation 
Funny that I didn’t have a problem with starting controversy 
Courting it as if I was its betrothed bride 
And yet in the heat of the moment look at me 
See how I shrink away inside myself  
When provided with the chance to stand up for righteousness 
Not wanting to humiliate or cause pain to my fellow womb room sharer 
Desiring anything but to push you away into the shadowlands 
I have dabbled with the darkness for far too long 
That’s why I’m trying to protect you from its encroaching cloaking devices 
I don’t know how to disagree with you and keep things amicable between us 
It seems like my words just wound when I want them to heal and soothe 
I need the Lord to take control of my mouth and set a guard on my lips 
Transform my mind so I can deal with the challenge of preserving it from wickedness 
Can we have a get together without going over the same old familiar topical territory 
Must our home always be the location for verbal sparring 
What is the point or purpose to our endless warring 
Isn’t this supposed to be a time of generous spirits 
Are we not called to love one another and bring peace, joy and love to the world 
How can we do that if it doesn’t exist within our own home 
We are divided amongst ourselves when we should be a united front 
Us against the universe 
Or at the very least being used as a catalyst 
To bring this galaxy in submission to Jehovah 
Convince souls to bow the knee willingly before we are coerced and compelled by blazing fiery eyes 
V3 
 
 
I remember a time when we possessed far more similar looking minds 
When His power and His glory was our enduring passion 
Before the fashions of society dictated our response to His gospel truth 
Before the rules of some countries lorded it over our willingness to live out our faith 
When it contradicts the popular opinion of the day 
Did we forget sin is as old as time 
It goes back to the most perfect garden that ever lived and breathed 
Why are we so surprised that evil and poverty still exist in the world 
It is not because of our deeds always that sickness occurs within us 
Though diet and exercise has a lot to do with it 
Both its presence and its absence 
Some starve themselves for the sake of affection 
Yet find a greater affection in starvation than the arms of an angel formed in human shape 
Time is a precious commodity we have in short supply 
I watch it fly on by like butterflies out the window 
I don’t attempt to catch it just let it drift on , go 
Above those maddening crowds and saddening clouds 
Putting a dampener on my swimming at the beach plans on Christmas day 
Not that it matters if a tradition is upheld 
If it gets in the way from our view of the cross 
And the cradle of a manger where our sweet saviour once lay 
The focus of our attention should be drawn to Him always 
How to deal with what I feel 
When our saviour is gone from this earth 
But not from our hearts 
I have to keep on believing and telling myself 
That He still lives in you no matter how far you appear to drift from Him in your ideology 
You still claim to know Him you still cling to His love desperately 
Like a drowning man sinking in the sea of seemingly limitless possibilities 
We have far too many options   these days of what to believe in 
Yet God’s truth stands alone in its uniqueness 
 
 
The only God who ever claimed to be the truth itself 
The only God who ever gave His life to save the world 
To save it from the damage 
Swords it drew into itself thrusting madly 
Like a wolf not seeing the frozen knife in the ice hole 
Dipped in the blood of seals 
In frenzy piercing itself with furious illogic 
We cause ourselves harm when we drift from His arms 
When we try to make our own godling 
When we ascribe His goodness to ourselves and our badness to His mindset 
Yet our sins do not fully describe all that we are 
We are not them though they may belong to us alone 
We are so much more than meets the eye 
And yet we judge each other based only upon what is revealed by glancing at our surfaces 
Do we not see 
The hands of heaven working behind the scenes 
To pull us closer to salvation’s kingdom 
Do we not hear 
The voice of trumpets calling us 
From beyond the grave like mental state of selfishness 
Into a holy state of being absorbed wholly in Him  
V4 
The conflict of humanity remains 
Ever unresolved til the return of Christ 
There is so much left unsaid 
For fear of upsetting the delicate balance between us 
So many of our feelings we kept locked up within the cavern bound cupboards of our soul 
For the sake of dodging sniping bullets of sarcastic wit and plastic versions of authentic expression 
The seasonal smiles of presumption on the part of the customers to always remain correct 
The urge to uphold tradition to provide a home of hospitality and create a welcoming atmosphere 
The dear and tender moments , once cherished long since neglected 
 
 
Those activities we once indulged in that lit a flame of tenderness within our youthful hearts 
Like washing lines of Christmas cards and oversized socks only suitable for gargantuan feet 
Barely recalled snowmen with carrot stick noses and coal button eyes 
Scarves wrapped around their necks and somebody’s hat probably dad’s laid atop its crumbling mug 
Drinking warm cups of cocoa and egg nog so often anyone would think they were our drug 
Cutting off a slice of a life we left behind in the foggy wintry past 
V5 
As bits and pieces of your language become transformed , mangled and tangled 
When learning a new tongue forces you to deteriorate in knowledge of your own 
As your way of relating to the world alters and you seem to grow yourself a second skin 
The casual lackadaisical attitude we grew up with appears forced unwelcome in your being 
Not sitting comfortably with the prim and proper strict and punctual manner of behaviour 
You have grown accustomed to in later years 
My teardrops fall for the passionate crusader you once were 
For the negotiations and compromises you made within yourself 
Decisions you might argue you were forced to make by necessity 
Not choosing who you love or willing to lose an argument in order to maintain a lasting friendship 
Possibly unaware of the pressure you exert upon blood flowing unrestricted through his pores 
I know it’s about more than settling old scores for you 
Why are you endlessly attempting to bring us all round to your point of view 
Can’t you just let the matter rest 
Let it die with the dodos 
I know it is a tragedy that we should just lock up this topic and 
Leave it as just one of many things we are not long allowed to talk about 
For fear of treading on sensitive toes 
But better that scenario than this cold war exerting all the strength 
Exhausting all the love, suffocating any compassion between us 
Why must we always be forced to take sides 
Can’t we talk about something anymore that doesn’t result in volcanoes of hot fury 
Erupting suddenly when wires get crossed and confusion thrives 
Our sweet honey hive was never meant 
 
 
To harbour such disillusionment 
We shouldn’t have to play pretend 
To mend our shattered chain of hearts  

 

 

 

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