Genre: Rhyme, Life
Don’t weep for me
O Land of the free
When it was my time to fall
Twas for my country’s call
Twas for the land that I loved
That I gave my all
And for the land that I loved
I did freely give
And in her freedom
And her courage
I’ll continue to live.
* * * *
Watch Poetry performance readings:
Watch Poetry made into Movies:
Genre: Life, Society
At that moment when Aphrodite
conquered the fourth Sky as well
the highest circles of Society
decided that she could now be
proclaimed Illustrious Woman.
That is the great
moment had come for the Advertisement
her body to be stuck to the background
of Omnipotence
or for the passions of Nature to violently
trampled on
if she were
to conquer even the Ninth Heaven.
Or simply to be a contributor
to the Sun’s circling from Dawn to Sunset
to be executed not only
without any intervention of night
but also during the time period
when the Giants of money had a taste for it.
And without yet returning to her Man
Aphrodite observed that
the seas had begun to bury the blue in the earth
and the first dust had begun to fall
on the laurel wreath of victory
as the island of Cyprus
filled up with reporters and managers
and with the vilest people in the World.
The moment Hephaestus learned of all that
he locked himself in his house
because he too would be losing
his beautiful wife
now she had appeared before
the eyes of the World…
Translation by PHILIP RAMP
* * * *
Watch Poetry performance readings:
Watch Poetry made into Movies:
I am the poet
carrying a luggage of roles
all of which I play with equal interest
I am the talkative lover
who knocks on the door of your heart
and having entered,
bursts into a torrid tete-a-tete
with your inner self
and sings fantastic flirtations
I am the justice in the court
betokening perfect impartiality
and never guilty of distorting the truth
None receives the least pardon from me
for any offence
I am the policeman
following the thugs
with a baton
and filing a case against them
I am the overpowering magician
My virility, more ebullient
than that of a gunman or a swordsman
In case they can only kill a person
Yet I influence the latter
and charge the battery of his heart
I am the labourer
digging out moth eaten rubbish mounds
and recycling them
Yet, I am the poet,
the very slight poet,
still struggling for perfection.
* * * * *
Watch Poetry performance readings:
Watch Poetry made into Movies:
Genre: Life, Society
Run! I have run
Oh! I’ve died several times to this end
I’ll rest away from that bad beast.
This sound is not welcoming.
Turning and turning all about
So ferocious is the incoming voice
Can I run!
I must run. But run to no point at all?
I have fumbled and tripled triple times on this way.
There seems no way lead out
Yes! There is one, and the beast is within me.
How can a high class animal run from that low class?
Yes! T’s why t’s a beast
And we’re never the same
T may pierce my flesh but I, no
Except I may kill it out of defense
A beast is a beast; never broken like a cheese
Take to your heels when it wheels it presence
T will never understand like you.
Though the bad beast within you is the worst beast…the fear
I can’t hide…none to hide
Courage is the only weapon …and I’ll run
And I’ll run! And run to the end…
* * * * *
Watch Poetry performance readings:
Watch Poetry made into Movies:
Genre: Life, Society
Instead of recognizing we’re king you intend to abolish us. It’s always been obvious first we dangle from trees now it’s filmed murder in the streets. Using mass media television, radio, and music to create deceit in us. Yea we’re free from shackles but you’re still leading us. We keep sleeping not understanding we have reason to say they’re defeating us. Why are we afraid to be heard or seen maybe we’ll be the next martyr or leader killed for a reason. A strong people killed without a cause it’s disgusting; can’t you see injustice has me questioning what trust is?
* * * * *
Watch Poetry performance readings:
Watch Poetry made into Movies:
Genre: Rhyme, Life
It’s been a pleasure
To write with cause
Not just because
The words are there
On tip of tongue
And finger
To be pressed
In patterns
With rhythm and thought
Seen not as blots
Spat out on white surface
But merely a mind
Supplied with reason
Experience
And strong desire
To bleed ink on pages.
* * * * *
Watch Poetry performance readings:
Watch Poetry made into Movies:
Genre: Free verse, hurt, personality, mental illness, borderline personality disorder, dark, life, sad, pressure, unstructured poetry
But words are just words, and lies will always be lies.
Maybe summer will reveal the truth, and the phrases that sit beneath my scars
I bare myself before them, and welcome my feelings; they’re tougher then that, and stronger then me. So I break apart, their ignorance leaving bruises on the back of my hands; hands that I don’t even recognize anymore.
Who am I supposed to be? Because i am never enough. But I am all that I know. And if they tell me to be softer, I will remind them I am jaded, and sharp. That each piece of me has carved a hole in someone else. So if you want me to change, you mustn’t stay.
And I’ll walk the shores alone and collect shells instead of these reasons to run.
* * * * *
Watch Poetry performance readings:
Watch Poetry made into Movies:
Genre: Rhyme, Life
Outrunning The Rain – by David E. Gates
Outrunning the rain.
Outgunning the pain.
Fighting back the tears.
Even though it’s been years.
Like drops from the sky,
They multiply.
Each glistening and clear.
Each a perfect tear.
Outrunning the rain.
On board the train.
Swept away on the tracks.
As emotion racks.
Biting my lip.
So my cover won’t slip.
Keeping up face.
No matter the place.
Outrunning the rain.
Feeling the strain.
Pain doesn’t subside.
I just want to hide.
Away from the looks.
And into my books.
Distraction is key.
For my sanity.
Outrunning the rain,
Another smile I feign,
They say it won’t last.
The pain will soon pass.
Isn’t like that for me.
It has longevity.
Though I’m better each day.
With strength I’ll outstay.
Outrunning the rain.
Dousing the flame.
Memories keep me sane.
Outrunning the rain.
© Copyright – 2017 – David E. Gates (Shelley Show Productions)
* * * * *
Watch Poetry performance readings:
Watch Poetry made into Movies:
Genre: Life, Family
Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html
Watch Poetry performance readings:
Watch Poetry made into Movies:
Genre: Life,
My love for poetry hasn’t been a smooth journey, with setbacks on the first mile ,heartbreaks down the bridge, breakups on the high bumps and makeups on the sight of the green light signaling a way forward , but i chose her and swore to never leave. So this time my new poet friend, Jane, wakes me up with a catchy text. “Hey handsome, today is his born day, and i have a lot on my mind can’t come up with something, kindly write me a sweet piece, one with love and affection, just direct it to me and i will edit it, exactly the one you’d write to your boo, I trust you.” So i start writing, that piece that made Lucy mushy, shed tears and say yes to me. Then i sent. While reminiscing on my creativity, it kept me thinking, my mother must have been a boxer, so much punch lines in it. Just then Lucy bumps in from the shop, and grabs my phone to see what’s making me smile. The timing was wrong, because Jane replies with the love emoji mimic saying “.i love you too”. She dropped everything and left, never said a word. Sent me a text message of how i was too dammed to seduce women with one piece. I tried to explain it to her but she said it no longer meant anything, that she was too stupid to have believed me. That it was, just a piece, a piece from a poet, and so we were done. Few weeks later, we would still hangout though, do some catch up, eat some kebab, chicken and fries, just the way she liked it, played some games, hide and seek, peek a boo, go for movies, bicycle rides, play in the rain, and hang out for dinner just like before, just that it was different, we were friends. I knew she missed us, I mean, I did, but she dint trust me. So this time she comes home for dinner. Finds my poetry book and decides to peruse as I prepare something for the stomach. She finds her way to my new piece “silent confession” of how i missed us, how she got it all wrong. How i longed to kiss her during those movie sessions just like before, .how i wished she took time to understand everything, how i wished she realized it and come back, how i still loved her so much and would still take her back, how she meant the whole world to me, how she was still the cutest thing I had ever seen, how i wished she could read it. So she comes straight to me in the kitchen, gives me a deep kiss and says of how she is sorry, that she now understands perfectly what transpired and that she loved me too, that I was still the cutest thing she had ever seen and wanted us back together, that she had read it. I smiled back, gave her a deep kiss and whispered to her right ear, “I wish it was true, but it is, just a piece, a piece from a poet”.@Nittystanpoet
Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html
Watch Poetry performance readings:
Watch Poetry made into Movies:
POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film. 