Category: Uncategorized

Read Poem: Until I Met You, by Tina Culora

I didn’t consider myself a writer until I met you.

You were all scruffy hair and spectacles

at the end of your nose,

all classic novels

and 20 cups of tea

to keep you going

your tap, tap, tap on your writing desk

with your ink-stained finger tips.

I inspired you, you had said

once

and I clung to this long after you had forgotten,

Your gentle smile and freckles and your one armed hugs

I

wrapped myself in your wool jumper that winter

jotting down pencil words in messy notebooks,

with sore fingertips on typewriter keys,

I am certain

I wasn’t a writer

Until you inspired me.

Read Poem: Ride or Die, by Rachel Marie

 

Scrolling through my memory

I stop on slideshows with pictures of you & me

As I reminisce on our younger years

And constantly ask God why you’re not here

Why’d it have to be you that he took?

Why’d it have to be my world he shook?

Glancing now across this ocean

I still see our footprints where we stood—side by side

You were my first—ride or die

You showed me what love was

And taught me to be whatever I wanted

Allowing me to be myself & showing me how to release my burdens

Through music & writing, I remember your teachings

And all the lessons on how not to let my demons consume me

Letting me think for myself

But still guiding

And whenever I felt like dying 

You were always there to revive me

To this day I still don’t understand

Why God took my brother…

Instead of another man-

 

I still remember like it was yesterday

Since I got that call I’ve never been the same

Though I smile, still it’s faked

Just knowing I won’t hear your voice everyday

I apologize for the cruelty

Those words I never should have said

Despite the battles between us

I honestly never wished you were dead

I called your phone twenty plus times a day

Just to hear your voicemail & say:

“I love you more than yesterday—

More than you’ll ever know—

And if you’re watching down on me now—

Guide my steps; show me where to go”

Then I hang up & I’m angered

I was a fool to say those cruel things to you

Many said you had forgiven me

Yet I never heard it from you

And Lord—if you’re listening—

Will you just tell my brother one thing:

Tell him I’m sorry for the way I reacted—

I didn’t mean it.

And he’s missed immensely—

I wish he could hear me when I scream it

 

Looking up to the sky…as tears fill my eyes…

I guess God needed an angel…

That would forever ride or die.

 

In loving memory of my brother

RIP September 09|2017

Read Poem: Earthblood, by Amina Drury

Beyond the horizon I hear you pleading

Shouting, biting, scratching, breathing

And in the smog, your breath is wet

Wet and long and harsh and spent

In the sky your eyes shine bright

A billion vicious specs of light

In the earth you shudder

Your spine sticks up from deep down under

From sand I watched the sun as it bled

You tuck the sea around the earth to bed

You’re the lion’s teeth

The gazelle’s meat

And the blood that puddles under feet

I hear your sulky wines and groans

And your sultry breathy moans

In every writhing infant cry

I hear you born

I hear you die

Read Sonnet: Behold, the artistry of Mother Nature, by Rishabh Parmar

Behold, the artistry of Mother Nature
Flawless and seraphic
Little-bitty birds tweeting on the soggy branches
’tis mother Earth, not mine or not thine

Behold, the puissant rain
’tis shower time of the Earth
Clouds art blazing like king of the beasts
Taking stunning snapshots from the loftier berth

Behold, the children
Blissful creatures of the sturdy world
bring joyousness to the old man’s heart
who is waiting for his fortune, to be unrolled

Behold, ’tis thine future
that has to be nurture.

Read Poetry: Utopia, by Ndue Ukaj

Everything is different, in the horizon the Sun is crumbled

The crumbles remained on the earth’s heart like triumphant arrows.

We can’t recognize the colors through the wind caressing the memory

We do not read poetry in the universe of foolishness

Where relations between darkness and light

Appear just like relations between the wall and thought.

Behind is played the surprising game, just like before

Birds are falling in the ground, just like in times when hell was written,

Oh God, everything has changed,

At a time when a small fence is darkening our big eyes.

 

The moon finds a path through mummy hands remaining like arrows towards the sky

And the sun dissolving just like a candle through tired eyes

Who can’t see anything in the blue sky, except a small cloud

A cloud darkening everything 

Therefore vision is coiled in space

Just like the wind creating its avalanche

Then many faces appear.

At a night, when everything is different,

Containing inside the borders within your head

When you feet walk through illusions

And squeeze their bad dreams

For the time that isn’t 

For the time that wasn’t

For the time that will not come

For the time that goes with the wind.

Utopia struggling against reality

Her dreams hiding at the corner of secrets

Are swallowed

Read Poem: A THOUGHT TO EXPERIENCE, by Andre Ariel

I always wondered
I always questioned
but I was never happy

always wondering
but never happy

a hungry voice
inside of me
but never happy

always still
forever wonder
and I wonder still
to be happy

why did my mind
work this way

I forced myself to think some more
of why it thought so strange
because, I wasn’t happy

and i’ve spent my days
forever wondering

Now time has passed
and I learned that to be
happy
I had to choose

Now I spend my days smiling
with a crowd wondering
“Why he’s happy?”

“We know he’s afraid”,
I hear them say.
“Yes, but not of being happy.”

I let them wonder.
I let them think
always questioning
always wondering
never happy

Understood – A Poem by Maia Cuellar

Understood. Maia Ariadne Cuellar
I am afraid that all I have is myself
So I’ve learned to need no one
Except myself

I will always be alone
So I choose to be comfortable with a life of solitude
And be my own best companion

It sounds quite sad and lonely
A life spent within my own mind
But It wouldn’t have to be this way
If I found people of my own kind

I can fit in with those around me
But I never profoundly connect.
I am unseen on a deeper level by others.
It’s what I’ve come to expect

I do wonder if there’s someone out there
Who accepts this feeling as real
Maybe others are too afraid to sound crazy
To explain this feeling, to make an appeal
To others to be conscious of the mental isolation
That we all very well may feel

Perhaps I simply feed my ego
With the thought that I’m the only one who’s knowing
Of this sensation. That I’m one who’s unique
Out of 7.5 billion persons – and growing

But If I’m not,
Then why does it seem to others outlandish
To voice these fears of mental detachment
And to wish my soul could be easily recognized

I can grow near others
But a part of my mind is quarantined
I don’t feel superior
More as though an important part of me is unseen

And maybe I’m too far in my own mind
But wouldn’t it be lovely
To have you back
Because you
Made me forget
These feelings of being
So terribly misunderstood.

Theming: Existential, Meta, Disconnected

Maia Cuellar
Tumblr: MaiaTries
Medium: @MaiaCuellar

Poetry Reading: The Girl on the Bus, by Ed Teja

Performed by Katelyn Varadi

Get to know the poet:

1) What is the theme of your poem?

We never know exactly what is going on in life. It’s complex and confusing and its real beauty is often bittersweet.

2) What motivated you to write this poem?

A girl I saw on a bus in Hong Kong while thinking about the difficulties of connecting with people.

3) How long have you been writing poetry?

Over fifty years.

4) If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be?

Henry Miller.

5) What influenced you to submit to have your poetry performed by a professional actor?

I like hearing poetry read well. Hearing someone else read it will let me think about it differently.

6) Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?

I write novels and short stories.

7) What is your passion in life?

To live it fully.

Poetry Reading: Curse Coffee Cups, by Andrew Green

Performed by Katelyn Varadi

Get to know the poet:

1) What is the theme of your poem?

Curse Coffee Cups is a patchwork of memorable lines of poetry that run through my head.

2) What motivated you to write this poem?

It expresses frustration at trying to come up with something original with a head stuffed with other poets’ work.

3) How long have you been writing poetry?

I was a (very) occasional poet until two years ago when I began to publish regularly on Wattpad. I have been blogging on my own site literally a couple of months.

4) If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be?

That’s difficult but I’m a huge admirer of Wendy Cope’s work and would love to meet her.

5) What influenced you to submit to have your poetry performed by a professional actor?

Rhythm and the sound of words is critical to the way I write. My poetry is written to be read out loud though I seldom get the opportunity.

6) Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?

I occasionally write non fiction but poetry is my preference. My first, self published book, Margaret’s Story, was a little out of the ordinary though – a biography of my mother in verse.

7) What is your passion in life?

I have many and varied passions; my wife, children and grandchildren, writing, running (though I’m in my sixties and a bit slower than I once was), growing fruit and veg for the table, travel, we particularly love India, and Harlequins Rugby Club.