Category: poetry

REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS IMPERFECT, by Boris Glikman

It is the middle of a sunny summer day
I am running down the stairs
quickly and excitedly, with my neighbours following me.

We all want to see the Sun
It just fell down in the front yard
I saw it coming down like an overripe cantaloupe,
staining the sky with sticky, succulent golden juices.

There it is,
lying on the ground,
a giant orange, trampling the grass it landed on,
squirting its warm essence all over our bodies.

The neighbourhood dogs are running around,
barking at this strange visitor.

I approach it warily. I touch it.
It is warm and beautiful,
glistening in the mid-noon light.

I remember well the feelings of amazement, incredulity,
inexplicable joy overwhelming me
and the comical expressions of confusion
on the faces
of my neighbours.

9/11 Attacks, by Janelle Barker

The day began like any other r
The sun rose, scattering to work,
Settling into their day, with a smirk.
8.46am thousands of lives, would change,
North Twin Tower was hit by a plane,
People thought, NO, that’s insane.
News came to those, yes it was true,
Some knew and others didn’t have a clue.
Terror attacks was announced
Disbelief from civilians, on the ground.
9.03am, no, not again
The South Tower was hit, oh Amen.
Survivors running for their lives,
Passing the dead, that, they did dread.
Parts of bodies everywhere,
We had no time, to stop to care.
We had to get out, as fast as we could,
Everyone knew, that was understood.

People jumping from the towers,
Things happened in minutes,
Which seem liked hours.
Flights hijacked, 93,77 and 175
All the passengers, tried their best
To stay alive.
Life that day, was out of control,
When the buildings were demolished
It left, a great big hole.
90 countries, lost loved ones,
Firefighters, military
And police,
are many of the rescue Workers,
that now rest in peace.
Estimated up to 19,000
In the towers upon attack,
So hard to believe
That this maybe fact.
Years later, people still dying,
To the families, related this
Is terrifying.
Exposed toxins from ground zero,
Pregnancy losses, cancers
No one can find answers.
A memorial was made
For all to see,
A reminder of life,
No one would disagree.
Pay your respect, for those we lost,
And say a prayer,
For no extra cost.
This moment in history,
the world will remember,
Let’s come together,
United we stand,
Hand in hand,
Let’s show the world what we can withstand

What is Life?, by Shubhanshu Shrivastava

(shubhanshu004.wordpress.com)

Life is a dream when you think about it,
A gleam of colors, a vision of grey,
With a few moments that smell sweet and nice,
With the occasional taste of bad decay.

Life is a journey as many say,
A tunnel filled with twists and turns,
And the empty caverns that come through it,
Filled with deep visions of your desires in turn.

Life is in friends as many claimed,
And we do not interrupt them for believing thus.
But what about the time when they are maimed, through
Inaction of the same when tragedy occurs?

Life is in work as many believe,
Spending one’s years in tiresome ease,
With no time for anyone else, but alas!
Repenting on their death’s untucked bed, deceased!

Life is a fight for the taste of some,
Bloody and bruised, all days to come,
And though it is somewhat crucial to know,
But a jealous, dubious mind at unease will always show.

Life is in inaction as most exist,
Sustaining silently every slap, burn and shear,
Keeping mum all through, in betwixt; and
Complaining only when no one cares to hear.

What is life, and how to live?
A question that haunts mankind still,
Yet there are answers in a few, that gives,
Books and stories of those, considered greater still.

They say that life is all this, and more,
And one faces all this as mentioned before,
But to be wise is a rare gift,
And rarer is to act on it.
Your conscience knows the rightful path,
It tells you as your innermost thought,
To control your emotions when facing odds,
To act such and let them know how you’re wrought.

Yet do not bend when beaten much,
Even the sharpest sword breaks (upon the anvil) at moments such,
When the hammer starts to believe its mightier still,
Constantly beating and the steel reaches its utmost limit.
Beat back then and let the hammer know,
Slice it in one swift motion, in one throw,
That it is mostly wood – soft and easy to split,
Therefore keep it must itself, within its limits.

But then also do not forget
To love and care for others as well,
For there will always be those who will value you such,
Of what you deserve, of your true worth.
And live your life as you deem it fit to be, but
Absurdly, do not hurt a living thing you see.
Focus on yourself, your personal growth,
Yet keep them close, who matter the most.

For a selfish case loses the kingdom,
And gains just an empty throne.
So tell me what you think of this,
Is this life, to you, what I have shown?

SHE WANTED TO BELIEVE, by Gloria Siamte

I’m amaze how she put a smile or act like nothing ever happened,
Like the sun always shine upon her,
Like her cup runneth over always.
Like her thoughts were always light
And her heart merry.
Then, one day she just disappear,
Into nothingness.
No trace, no clues
And people whispered the big Why…?

Maybe it wasn’t acute,
Maybe it has started since her childhood,
Expressing through different metamorphosis.
Then days and years of struggle to just live.
Maybe her tears finally ran dry,
Her loneliness wasn’t something that can be shared like happiness.
Her heart loaded with grief upon herself.
Maybe she lamented upon herself
Upon her own dead spirit for years.
Maybe she learned how to smile to hide her sufferings
And silence to hide away her scream for help,
To be safe from getting stigmatized.

Her mind find no escape from the tormenting thoughts.
Eating up her soul,
Burying her heart.
Never seem to change a bit even till that fateful day or in future.
She tried her best working hard, burning the midnight oil to find life, to find dreams, to find love.
Every rejections and failures led her back to the very point where it all began.
That darkness will always find way to crawl back in,
Leading her back to it’s world.
Never seem to leave her.
Make her feel like the end seem more peaceful.

Then, she decided to step away.
The sum of all thoughts,
The sum of all fights,
The sum of all shame,
The sum of all tears,
The sum of all fears.
Seem like the cure but she has just pass it on..
“There is light at the end of the tunnel”, they said.
She wanted to believe…

Demoiselle, by James Morgan-Jones

Let’s be direct: Beautiful Demoiselle.
What naming could be apter? In noon-light
a sliver of midnight blue comes spinning
from Hades’ palette, frailly fluttering,
a butterfly blue from the underworld.
Yet not quite: no sheer lepidopteran
makes this skittery, whirligig descent,
achieves in repose such sleek elegance.

He rests like a svelte blue pin, superbly
singular, wings deep-dipped in indigo:
pure concept lodged brilliant in spinel.
Such exquisite difference brings profound
gratification, a joy extinguished
in the homogenised world we fashion.

When I dream I’ll drink some of his lustre,
bask in the resplendence of my colours –
what flagrant beauty then in dynamism,
such glory mirrored in heaven’s dark glass.

Harmony, by Sierra Anastasia

Music bleeds from my gums,
Filling my mouth with bitterly sweet songs.
Albums sizzle on my taste buds while
Lyrics gag me.
My throat swells with melodies
Turning my body into a pool of notes.
Voices nest nuzzled in my ear drums
Swarming harmony in tunes of plenty.

~ Sierra Anastasia

ABANDON LOVE, by Joanne Rowe

So rich man you think you’re gonna survive?
Leaving the rest of us to die.
Buy your ticket to outer space,
watch the rest of us spinning in space.
You measure time by your own insignificant place

Mother Earth is starting to wake
We can feel her moving – Under our feet
Dancing but nobody is watching

She is screaming in the whirlpools of abandon love,
Drowning in the pools of blood,
Crying in the dirty rain,
In the clamour of the wind and rain,
how many lives have fallen?

We have rend her garments –
Emptying out her oceans
leaving her in disgrace,
and just plain destroyed this place.

With our lust for power and greed to have ever more,
Lies and deceit riding on the backs of the poor,
leaving them to eat dirt while
using our abandoned pets as live bait.

Oh all for the good life,
for we are gonna have a good time.
No one’s manning spaceship earth
to busy fighting and dying
while we are spinning out of control.

Oh sweet love divine
where do we go from here
oh sweet love divine
where do we go from here.
You seem to have abandon this place

For why complain –
we are riding on the crest of sensation,
oh for we all have a good life,
oh sweet love divine

Gaia is opening up the book of change
bringing forth massive amounts of
anger, sadness and despair
For we have abandoned her
Now chaos sets the order of the day.

And when the morning sun has risen –
I will walk outside this world of dust
Watching
Mother Earth shed
her garment of expression,
awakening the deep strata of my soul
and sets it dancing with my shadow wondering,
where we will go from here?

After the tears – a gentle rain falls
One can sense a presence
to a life’s sustaining ocean
of a love that is freely given,
not bound to any one person or thing

Asking mankind to wear a coat of compassion
To hold on to what is good, —- All you need is love
For All Life!

In gratitude we wait for a new day to begin.
poem written by Joanna Rowe

“Be the change that you want to see in the world.”
Mohandas Gandhi

Live Dream Love http://thedowsersdaughter.blogspot.com/
joanny

The corona quiet, by Alison Hramiak

So quiet the land –

the lanes, the paths

the leafy glades.

Where in the air

viral shadow evades

surgeon scalpel blades.

Corona cripples cursed confused countries,

Crying out for medicine and medicals.

Rage against a parasite

That Earth itself has sent.

Covid 19 coursing, carousing, carelessly carefree

through the blood of this us –

This dominant species.

Powerless to prevent

As we carelessly collectively collect on corners.

Will we die of ignorance?

Or heedlessness ?

And as smoke rises from the ashes

of what is left of us

like a

mad mocking double helix

of the virus

that claimed

us…

How we will move on?

© Alison Hramiak

23rd March 2020

Home, by Cecilia Morales

I remember the clear blue skies
the chilly rainy days
the cool October winds signalling the end of the school year
the cicadas crying for rain
the butterflies bringing spring on their wings
the ancient green giant watching over us
his warmth barely contained under rocky dark blankets.

I remember the sleepy towns
our hideout in the foggy mountains where I said ‘I love you’ for the first time
and the wild waves we used to ride on the weekends
our skin angry and red and salty and peppered with dark sand.

I dream of many faces
all of them smiling as they pass by
golden brown, kissed by the sun
infinitely patient at my silences, my anger, my disappearing acts.

I hear their laughter as we walk together on dirty sidewalks
passing by tall walls lined with broken glass
and barbwire
pretending to ignore the vague black threats tagged on doors
and the suffocating hand of uncertainty behind the smog
wondering what safety even feels like
wondering which one of us will be next
performing death in the newspapers
under white sheets
because what else is there to feel
other than fear and disgust?

I am haunted by her sunny smile clouded by the plastic bag around her head
by the bullet that stole his eye
by the ghouls that drove her away from home
by the corpse I stumbled upon on my way to the gym
by the crowds cheering wildly at the emperor’s cries for blood
by the deafening hatred making us turn against one another
devouring each other on our way out.

By Cecilia Morales – twitter.com/mulberryink

Originally published at https://notesmetro.substack.com