Category: rhyme

CAN YOU HEAR THE TICKING MA?, Poetry by Bobby Stevenson

Can you hear the ticking ma of the clock upon the wall?
The time is fast approaching when we won’t be here at all.

Can you hear the bombers ma as they fly above our heads?
They’re only trying to end it ma, get ready to be dead.

Genre: Rhyme, Life

CAN YOU HEAR THE TICKING MA?
by Bobby Stevenson

Can you hear the ticking ma of the clock upon the wall?
The time is fast approaching when we won’t be here at all.

Can you hear the bombers ma as they fly above our heads?
They’re only trying to end it ma, get ready to be dead.

Can you see the mushroom cloud? Tell pa to come and look,
It’s lighting up the kitchen, setting fire to a book.

Can you feel the wind ma as it blows us all away?
Soon we’ll all be dust ma, only shadows left to play.

Can you hear the ticking ma of the clock upon the wall?
The time is fast approaching when we won’t be here at all.

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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I Am Me, Poetry by Upender Reddy

I’m a sky
Full of stars

I’m a body
Full of hidden scars

I’m a see-saw
Your happiness I draw

Genre: Rhyme, Life

I Am Me
by Upender Reddy

I’m a sky
Full of stars

I’m a body
Full of hidden scars

I’m a see-saw
Your happiness I draw

I’m a drink
Makes you think

I’m an absorber
Absorbing your emotions

I’m a illusion
Making you cross the ocean

I’m a mirage
U don’t see

I’m magic
You know me

I’m me

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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Rite of Passage, Poetry by Olalekan Joseph Ajayi

Tonight I enter the forest of words
The moon a lamp unto my naive feet
Like the prophets of old I bear no sword
Just calabash of ink and famished sheet

Genre: Rhyme, Spiritual

Rite of Passage
by Olalekan Joseph Ajayi

Tonight I enter the forest of words
The moon a lamp unto my naive feet
Like the prophets of old I bear no sword
Just calabash of ink and famished sheet

I hear harsh clichés from nocturnal birds
Seeking to drown the voice of the songbird
The stagnant river smells of putrid fish
The trees at its banks shed leaves of anguish

From the cacophony came thunder’s voice
Only worthy tongues get to the whetstone
Only circumcised hearts embrace the Muse
Only truth bearers etch their names on stone

The poet’s journey is one of solitude
Laughters and sorrows of a million souls
To be delivered in great altitude
Cling unto me like flies to open sores

Like a madman at war with strange voices
Voices in my head battle for my tongue
They bid speak, write in measured verses
For my words are untainted to fight wrongs

My parched tongue and empty bowels mock me
The scroll shall be my bread and the ink drink
Mine eyes have seen the book that makes me free
A messenger, my voice shall curse this stink

Tomorrow, I emerge from the forest
A valiant initiate of the Poets’ court
With my free verses and blend of new forms
I shall better the art of poetasters

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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It Comes in 3’s, Poetry by Anthony E. Barr

As many of you know
it comes in threes
just when you’ve had enough
more blows in with the evening breeze

Genre: Rhyme, Life

It Comes in 3’s
by Anthony E. Barr

As many of you know
it comes in threes
just when you’ve had enough
more blows in with the evening breeze

We’re quick to blame God
Yet quickly drop to our knees
Throughout our lives we receive
The forever unforeseen
As the devil dreams
Of ways to bring us to his unhappy

I’d like to tell you
About my best friend Jesus
His Crucifixion
Resurrection
Which helps us through this

With him one’s able to heal
With him one’s able to deal
Ripping out the shards of pain
That only the devil’s dealt
He’s the one that gave you
All the pain you felt

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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HANK, Poetry by Karmen Skaro

Thousands of threads make up a hank of wishes and desire

In my stomach with whom you play.

One touch and threads disappear.

Instead, an eruption of most glorious rainbow colors appears.

Genre: Rhyme, Life

HANK
by Karmen Skaro

Thousands of threads make up a hank of wishes and desire

In my stomach with whom you play.

One touch and threads disappear.

Instead, an eruption of most glorious rainbow colors appears.

The colors spread through the inland of a country you claimed to be yours,

Through the vastness of the sea you conquered.

Still the soul longing in thirst is waiting,

Waiting on a lonely shore waiting for the next upcoming wave.

◊◊◊◊

Afterwards

Playful fingers

Loving eyes

Progressive rhythm

Dissipated thoughts

One hank untangled

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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Disgrace, Poetry by Jasmine Fredericks

Hell-o world,
It’s such a wonderful place.

And just in case, I’ll reiterate
This world of mine is not a disgrace.

Genre: Rhyme, Life

Disgrace
by Jasmine Fredericks

Hell-o world,
It’s such a wonderful place.

And just in case, I’ll reiterate
This world of mine is not a disgrace.

It’s such a wonderful place.

It’s filled with bombs,
Yet we sit watching our sitcoms,

We allow ourselves to be brainwashed
Let the pain wash away.

We watch families screaming for help through our screens,
We switch the channel because it becomes too hard to breathe.

Just in case, I’ll reiterate
This world of mine is not a disgrace.

It’s such a wonderful place,

Children orphaned and fighting at war,
Yet we will restore our walls and keep ourselves safe.

We spread our love against hate,
In order to deflate their destruction.

Signs say ‘Under-construction’,
And we say we are alright and over look the repercussions.

Just in case, I’ll reiterate
This world of mine is not a disgrace.

It’s such a wonderful place,

Just in case, I’ll reiterate
This world of mine is such a disgrace.

We destroy our own human race,
We try to retrace our steps and find
We’ve been left behind.

Just in case, I’ll reiterate
This world of mine is such a disgrace.
 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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Broken, Poetry by Sebastian Saavedra

You lit up the day
You knew what to say
But eventually you started to fade
You lit up the room

Genre: Rhyme, Romance, Relationship

Broken
by Sebastian Saavedra

You lit up the day
You knew what to say
But eventually you started to fade
You lit up the room
When it was filled with gloom
But everyday, you showed more shade
And when you broke, it became night
And the room became dark
You ended up losing, your optimistic spark

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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Porphyria’s Lover, Poetry by Arnab Dey

Walking down the alley,

Suddenly felt a strange wave;

She was strolling towards me,

Fresh out of the grave!

Genre: Rhyme, Sexy, Relationship, Romance

 

Porphyria’s Lover by Arnab Dey

 

1

 

Walking down the alley,

Suddenly felt a strange wave;

She was strolling towards me,

Fresh out of the grave!

 

Her hair was still unkempt,

But her flesh was so intact;

Closer cometh her,

To make an eye contact.

 

Her beauty’s inexplicable,

Beyond my wild fantasy;

Then we’re behind my stone,

To find utmost secrecy.

 

And then I kissed her perfect lips,

And touched her mind & soul;

And then she lifted my spirit,

And my body came along as a whole.

 

And we’d both spirited away,

Traversed through the drunken street;

Onlooking on all the rendezvous,

And deciding where again to meet.

 

 

2

 

Good morning dear,

It’s another day,

Try to get some sleep,

While Sun is in its full glory!

 

Good Afternoon baby,

Are you half-asleep now?

Sunlight is still out there

And church is having its last call.

 

Good evening sweetheart,

Wake up! Wake up!

Let’s start our holy night

While city’s busy relaxing.

 

Good night lover,

Hold my hand and fly away,

Touch all the graves on the way,

It’s time to spread the joy!

 

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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Life: A Writer’s Purgatory, Poetry by Lauren Kruczyk

I’ve survived the labyrinth of trial and error,
and have concededly accepted the nomenclature
of a writer in either timid self-proclamation
or through overly proud avail.

Genre: Artist, Rhyme, Life

Life: A Writer’s Purgatory
by Lauren Kruczyk

I’ve survived the labyrinth of trial and error,
and have concededly accepted the nomenclature
of a writer in either timid self-proclamation
or through overly proud avail.

Though the words do not yet slide
off the tongue in quite the way I’d like,
I have,
once or twice,
believed the words to be true.

I stagger, rejection mocking me,
wallowing in self-pity,
as I envision with such banality
the proud smirk of those who believe they possess such talent.

But without this treachery,
one could not be a writer;
the all-encompassing double-edged sword.

It is a rare skill
to strike a sensible balance
between hope and lack of delusion.

Those foolish enough to herald self-righteous decree
and clench tightly to a proud belief
that there is no room for improvement in their work
have already failed.

These fools will “comfort” you‚
that I know for sure.
A special kind of compassion served with a hearty dose of pity and a sprinkle of condescension.

I often wonder what this bliss must feel like;
pouring our souls into the world,
yet never truly at peace.
We crave notoriety; yet live as hermits.
We want to possess humility, yet feel deeply special;
like no one else in the world.

And with that creeps in undeniable tragedy;
the weight of our pain intends to break us.

A catch-22 it is;
our troubles arrive as if they were a magnetic force.
But if backed into a corner,
a writer will forever choose tragedy.
That is our cross to bear.

Yet in the slight moments when we rise to a purer place,
we settle upon the realization
that through every teardrop,
the vast feeling of emptiness
must be worth it after all.

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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Man of the Marshes, Poetry by Kim M. Russell

Squelching through the muddy marshes,

Entanglements of grass and reeds,

He swipes at bolshy bulrushes,

Crumbles the heads into white seeds.

Genre: Rhyme, Ballad, Society

 

Man of the Marshes by Kim M. Russell

 

Squelching through the muddy marshes,

Entanglements of grass and reeds,

He swipes at bolshy bulrushes,

Crumbles the heads into white seeds.

 

Entanglements of grass and reeds

Bending, breaking as he strides by,

Crumbles the heads into white seeds,

Tossing them upwards to the sky.

 

Bending, breaking as he strides by,

Pondering the riddle of his pain,

Tossing them upwards to the sky,

The seeds tumble to earth again.

 

Pondering the riddle of his pain,

Feet planted in muddy marshes,

Soaked to the skin in pouring rain,

His heart is full of bulrushes.

 

Feet planted in muddy marshes,

Entangled in the grass and reeds,

His heart is full of bulrushes,

His head crumbling into white seeds.

 

© Kim M. Russell, 2016

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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