Category: Uncategorized

The length of a Kalpa, Poetry by Kirsten Textor

The length of a Kalpa
by Kirsten Textor

As I gaze
Out the window
A small boy
Runs by
On his scooter
For a moment
I am him

GENRE: Time 

The length of a Kalpa

by Kirsten Textor

As I gaze
Out the window
A small boy
Runs by
On his scooter
For a moment
I am him
Sun on my face
Wind in my hair
Music in my ears
Peace in my soul
The pure feeling of
A child’s freedom
Washes over me
I feel part of everywhere
A fraction of a second
Yet the length of a Kalpa

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counting bricks, Poetry by lee pettengell

sitting in this cell of mine counting bricks to pass the time

800 and 9 or was it 10 shit ill have to start again
paced the floor a 1000 times from the bed to the chair
just aint getting any were
out the window freedom calls
across the yard over the walls

Genre: Prison, Depression, Loneliness

counting bricks

by lee pettengell

sitting in this cell of mine counting bricks to pass the time

800 and 9 or was it 10 shit ill  have to start again
paced the floor a 1000 times from the bed to the chair
 just aint getting any were
out the window freedom calls
across the yard over the walls
but the bars i cannote budge
freedoms there but out of touch
so its back to counting bricks again wish i could stop this silly game
but its that or think of you like i always seem to do

 

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DAS NICHTS, Poetry by Juan Antonio Garcia

The nothingness or her illuminated face,
Heaven under a hell of mud
The place towards we move
The place where our glance turns white.

Genre: Relationship, Love

DAS NICHTS
by Juan Antonio Garcia

The nothingness or her illuminated face,
Heaven under a hell of mud
The place towards we move
The place where our glance turns white.

We are mirrors of nothing, humans
When we discern our path of silt,
We expect to see a space and a time
But we are nothing and thus we dream

Nothing is space and nothing is time
Nothing our interior neither our exterior
Beings that don´t long for anything,
They only live for laughter or for nothing.

 

 

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SHACKLES OF LIFE, Poetry by Lois Terrans Bradbury

The shackles of life can tear the flesh.

Cut deep.

Silence the heart and suffocate the soul,

crush the spirit and drown all hope,

bury the love and hobble expectation,

chill the laughter and boil the hate,

twist the mind and steal imagination.

Genre: Rhyme, Life, Society

SHACKLES OF LIFE

 by Lois Terrans Bradbury

 

The shackles of life can tear the flesh.

Cut deep.

Silence the heart and suffocate the soul,

crush the spirit and drown all hope,

bury the love and hobble expectation,

chill the laughter and boil the hate,

twist the mind and steal imagination.

 

The wound goes so deep,

the scars never heal.

Memories shadowed in darkness,

fighting to be seen,

dreams shattered,

never to be born.

Cries of desperation choked,

never to be heard.

And the blood of the innocent spilled,

never to be loved.

 

The turbulence echoes like a maddening menace,

consuming any flame that dares to dance,

chasing any joy that wished to flee,

imprisoning thoughts that struggle to be free.

 

The undercurrent too strong,

the sands of life vanish,

songs of love are erased.

Passion is tormented,

tenderness is broken.

 

Music’s magic touch gone forever.

Eternity to be wrapped in blankets of pain.

Forever sorrow to reign.

 

 

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red wrists, Poetry by Sanchana Krishnan

we’re the cool girls of this generation,
the ones with the words ‘i .cannot. give. a. shit’
slashed across us in bold red,
the little lies we tell ourselves to go to bed,
instead of spending midnight hours strung on the edge
unable to seek behind or storm ahead.

Genres: Realism, Modern Day, Spoken Word, Self Harm, Depression, Strength, Recovery, Generation Y.

red wrists by Sanchana Krishnan

we’re the cool girls of this generation,
the ones with the words ‘i .cannot. give. a. shit’
slashed across us in bold red,
the little lies we tell ourselves to go to bed,
instead of spending midnight hours strung on the edge
unable to seek behind or storm ahead.
the ones who fell asleep
to the sound of constant yelling, artillery shelling; bitter bullets exploding
into ugly bruises splattered across still skinny limbs,
shifting stories of anger and frustration, guilt and regret
expressed across inches of innocent skin;
the ones whose clothes were just a little bit frayed on the edges
the wear and tear of secret battles
fought behind sunset alleys, behind midnight tea stalls
or on bright Sunday afternoons
at the bus stand,
desperately fighting hungry eyes and hungrier hands.
we’re the cool girls of this generation –
the ones with the
red tips red lips 
red ribs red wrists.
we’re the cool girls of this generation –
the ones that house boys in our hearts and
smoke in our lungs,
the ones who spend way too much time inside their own head,
asking a hundred questions before every step in this game of wizarding chess that
never seems to slow down –
we’re the ones that can be found
wandering insomniac across sulphur-sodden streets,
wisps of distant wishes
settling into the foggy vestiges
of a high mind longing to soar higher.
we’re the cool girls of this generation
the one that are still allowed just the right rationing of
action emotion expression complication communication
while wearing a constant resting not-so-bitch face
head sorting information in a frenzied daze,
heart swinging between your fingers and a suitcase –
the ones with one foot in the present and
other parts traversing through parallel dimensions,
searching for a back up plan if your hearts refuse to allow us home;
the ones whose mouths became graveyards
for all the words that went unsaid,
for all the words to which we came undone,
for all times your eyes asked us questions that we shunned
we’re the cool girls of this generation –
the ones that belong to roads unknown and bodies untouched,
the ones that find stories in shipwrecked planks
that ride stormy oceans only to find homes
or perhaps even build them –
amidst the crumbling sand castles on the sea shore.
because we’re the cool girls of this generation –
the ones with the
red tips red lips 
red ribs red wrists.

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Alone, Poetry by Anderson Gomes

Solitude gets loneliness a lot more than it should,
It’s not a word to despise just to be understood.
For alone no one is as it’s made out to be,
What you face is just an altered state of reality.
Alone in this world does every person come,
And alone again is how all will succumb
Why then is loneliness treated with such disdain ?

Genre: Motivational, Solitude, Philosophical.

Alone

by Anderson Gomes

Solitude gets loneliness a lot more than it should,
It’s not a word to despise just to be understood.
For alone no one is as it’s made out to be,
What you face is just an altered state of reality.
Alone in this world does every person come,
And alone again is how all will succumb
Why then is loneliness treated with such disdain ?
When it’s just another way of coping with pain.
People you do meet on your journey along,
But to be with you always never is anyone so strong,
The battle that they fight just as you ignore,
So are they not a part of your war.
Expect not too much for the world does offer less,
And only to those who persist does the world bless.
So curse me not that I traverse all alone
Treading life’s path my solitary candle has shown,
No matter the tears and heart aches all around,
I’ll still be smiling when alone I lay six feet underground.

 

 

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Assumptions, Poetry by Denise P. Isaac

Life in this world has become

So foreign with its people and style

Everything real taken as fake and

Because the majority will do it

Somehow you believe I will too

Taking no time to

Genre: Life, People, Relationship

Assumptions by Denise P. Isaac

Life in this world has become

So foreign with its people and style

Everything real taken as fake and

Because the majority will do it

Somehow you believe I will too

Taking no time to

study me

learn me

know me

You who are of

Presumptions

Assumptions

Presumptuous

Caught up in the cycle

Of hunting

Of fronting

Of wanting

Something

Someone

That you know nothing about

But yet longs for it

Because it appears to you

To be attainable

To be obtainable

To be Available

However, it’s degradable

To even have such a

Mindset that involves me.

 

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Read the best of 2016 Poetry from around the world

FREE POETRY CONTEST – All entries get their POEM shown on this website. AND, you can submit your Poem to be made into a video (guaranteed 1000s of view): https://festivalforpoetry.com/

FREE POETRY CONTEST – All entries get their POEM shown on this website. AND, you can submit your Poem to be made into a video (guaranteed 1000s of view):  https://festivalforpoetry.com/

Read the best of NEW Poetry:

VOICE OF ADDICTION, by Chantelle Cherie-Cox
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/01/16/voice-of-addiction-poetry-by-chantelle-cherie-cox/

THE A.M., by Mazi
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/01/16/the-a-m-poetry-by-mazi/

ONLY A MATTER OF TIME, by Coni Koepfinger
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/01/24/only-a-matter-of-time-poetry-by-coni-koepfinger/

HEART SHAPED BUBBLED, by Hillary Bryan
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/01/24/heart-shaped-bubbles-poetry-by-hillary-bryan/

GHOST OF MY LOVE, by Mandar Naik
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/01/25/ghost-of-my-love-poetry-mandar-naik/

MEMORY, by Tzoutzi Mantzourani
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/01/25/memory-poetry-by-tzoutzi-mantzourani/

THE PROBLEM WITH LESTER, by Damian Christopher
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/01/25/the-problem-with-lester-poetry-by-damian-christopher/

STRANGER IN LOVE, by Poetes Chantelle Cherie
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/01/26/stranger-in-love-poetry-by-poetess-chantelle-cherie/

MOON LIGHT, by Jennifer Martinez

https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/01/27/moon-light-poetry-by-jennifer-martinez/

MINNIES LAST MOAN, by Helen Spisak
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/01/27/minnies-last-moan-poetry-by-helen-spisak/

THE SECRET LIFE OF A SHADOW, by Mahitha Kasireddi
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/01/27/the-secret-life-of-a-shadow-poetry-by-mahitha-kasireddi/

 

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The Secret Life Of A Shadow, Poetry by Mahitha Kasireddi

Claim you know them?

All the life forms?

What if I told you,

Of another class alive?

No, Don’t fetch, my pal,

Genre: Fiction, Life, Relationship

The Secret Life Of A Shadow
by Mahitha Kasireddi

 

Claim you know them?

All the life forms?

What if I told you,

Of another class alive?

No, Don’t fetch, my pal,

It is only one

And one for all

The tier of a moving car,

Rising smoke of a cigar.

Like the battered wheat dough.

Turns into anything

Intangible, faceless being

Can’t fit into a case,

Or a tightly chained cage

Look at you,

Foolish to capture a vestige!

A phantasmal silhouette

Cast on the curtains

Against the moonshine of a winter night

Gather some guts to tear it down

With a mighty stroke of a knife

Look, it appears behind your trembling spine,

Enlarged, contracted

Slid and disappeared

Isn’t it taking you for a ride?

 

 

Don’t draw any sinister plans

Your wisdom, sorry

A major shortfall.

Why do the gravest of crimes

Happen during pitch dark times?

A faint column of light brings in a witness,

Records the ugly sins of a poisoned conscious

If you are still wondering

What is so fluid as wine,

thin as air, quick as a butterfly,

Like a feeble water bubble,

Refuses to go invisible.

Let me reveal to you

To your own,

For a quite long time now,

The unacknowledged chapters

Of the secret life of a shadow.

-Mahitha Kasireddi

 

 

 

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Minnie’s Last Moan, Poetry by Helen Spisak

Be true to yourself the people say
But then there’s chaos and sighs of dismay.

Treat others and all that ‘jazzzzz’
The trouble is – I detest ALL jazz!

GENRE: THE ART OF MOANING. Rhyme

 Minnie’s Last Moan

Be true to yourself the people say
But then there’s chaos and sighs of dismay.

Treat others and all that ‘jazzzzz’
The trouble is – I detest ALL jazz!

I’m irritated and show it full hilt

I could moan on You Tube with no fear and no guilt.

My saving grace I cannot be sure
My heart and soul are cleaning the floor.

My funeral commences and the organ groans
My goodness, I wish they’d retire tuneless Joan!

Poem by Helen Spisak
@helensays
 

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