Old Love, New Love, by Ekawu Ukpo

Love letters i hold close to heart
Papers tainted with signature scents of you and I
Time and distance, counted as days to miss one and no other
Goodbye hugs tighter and reconcilation hugs deeper
Skin and sheets made the lovers sweeter
Happiness is kind and love is a keeper
and you say it means keep her
Keep her love, read her smiles and make beauty stay forever
Kisses meant, its you
Flowers say always.
Words held truth
Actions bore honor.
Truly blessed as true believers

My old soul travelled so far in time
Millenials believe love is telepathic
Fairytales lie, and they vibe
Absorb my love, It surrounds me but its not in me
Worship do not adore, they crave obsession
Hold my hair up while i throw up
Sick signs of true love.
Lets share bad habits, and say loving has evolved.

The very core of love they corrupt
They can’t even comprise on something so simple as color
They call hiding freedom of expression
Expressing love weakness of the subconscious
They propose with flare and disbelief
Romance is denied or dead
I tell them romance is not sex.
They say stay single then, one night stands is a trend.
The circle is vicious,but people like us don’t bend
No matter what lives,they have been given.
We know, knowing the universe
Designate souls meets wherever they may be
In their mordern world what’s meant to be will be.


Read Poem: The Fluidity of Sorry, by Jillian Louie (@whosaywhatsay)

i squint up at the sun— mistake me for the golden child, lover. mistake me

for another time of year.

you are summer in italy, two thousand one. you are spring break and petite patisseries. i am no longer

sorry that i am autumn on fire, october in the rain. i am more sorry that you

do not see what i see in myself. i am sorry that you do not see how incredible i shine.

i am uncut diamonds, white gold, new york underwater. there is something film-like about the way you said goodbye. there is

something dream-like about the way you bit your lip.

okay, maybe i am calling nightmares by other names. i call her a dream while she slits my throat. you do not

get to tell me about the moon anymore. i will sink into a crisis on my own.

Read Poem: STREETS, by David Dephy

Looking at the empty streets.
Beauty needs to be seen.
I know you are happy out there
on the other side of emptiness,
yet the present is the choice
which remains. In admiration,
beauty, in poverty wealth
and in silence the sound,
I will put the gun down,
who stands beside me matters more.
I’ll remember this second,
on the other side of what was emptiness,
I’ll remember this present, but the streets
will be alive again, only that which needs
to be seen will be.

David Dephy
March 20, 2020
West Islip, New York

Read Poem: Beauty by Marc Libidinsky

She was beauty set in stone;
I couldn’t move her,
she wouldn’t moan.
She was beauty,
she was sleep.
She was beauty
held at bay –
Held by me,
some might say.
She was beauty turning wild;
though, demurring:
Never mild.

(c) Marc Libidinsky, 1/17/2019

Read Poem: AN ODE by Asanda

“repeat often”

All is loss, when all are lost
Beyond reason and doubt we cling to life
Few sit and ponder the truth of frost
Hence reasonable doubt compounds strife
Few remain that let loose the reigns
When war and famine bring forth dark
Non understand the true power of fate
When its death that brings forth life with a spark

“reinforce often”

I cling to a loose understanding of life
I’m lost in loss, understanding nothing at all
The gift we all share, yet from it we hide
How is it we live and yet are destined to fall?
Under the covers, like babes of kangaroos
Dark is a man’s soul who listens not to children
Its darkness we love when truth seekers are few
The light is forever lost when non revere women

“invoke often”

Kneel before him, the great I AM
Lay your love and life for her, mother of all
Worship his image and likeness in your life span
For she is the miracle in which all are in awe
Meditate on his wisdom so you can learn truth
Dedicate your life to her and be without doubt
He is not above or around, for he is you
She is the essence of your soul, which is within and without

Soul Forsaken, Poetry by M. Arundel

Category/Genre – Death / Vampire

To tread death, eternal ages, forever lost the path of life,
Untouched by Heavens Angels, unscathed by Death’s dark scythe.
No welcome at the Gates of Hell, to walk alone, all hope forsaken,
No mercy given, a lifeless shell, suspended by damnation.
Complexion pale like driven snow, frozen touch as cold as ice,
Soulless wanderer full of woe, eyes fixed, in search of sacrifice.
Upon the lips a crimson stain, redder than the flowering rose,
A desolate heart filled with pain, where silence now forever flows.
Denied the new dawns rising sun, compelled to quench the burning thirst,
What’s done may never be undone, to walk the night forever cursed.
In solitude, fallen from grace, in death for century’s untold,
No comfort found, no resting place, no forgiveness to behold,
Powers of darkness diminish light, in a trance like state, no thought,
Damned into twilight by a curse bestowed, but rarely ever sought.
No escape, the soul is taken, no resistance, no redeem,
Never to awaken; ever trapped within this nightmare dream.

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Legendary, Poetry by Clara Pohlman

 Genre: Family, Love

 For my Brother Zachary

There he is
Mr president
Sitting in a wood stained chair with a coffee mug
From his trip to Colorado.
The tie he wears
Erupts with ivory, it is ironed
He too has ironed his thoughts into emails,
And the responses from philosophers
Cascade from the inbox of an envelope.

Aspiring to God’s plan he thinks,
His thoughts always turn
Into an examination of
Courage to stand up for his beliefs.

No feat
Is too scary for a legend.
Speed bumps are not
In his vocabulary.
New questions squirt answers
Into his K-cups
Every morning.

A girl he admires
Creeps her way
Into every loving gesture.
He puts faith
Into love and stocks love
In siblings and God.
Somehow God is always

His prayers are sincere and words crunch of authenticity.

I want
To be my brother.
Someone who loves
Carelessly and acts
With humility
Winning is his
Hobby and losing
Is his strength.
To the future

This poem
Is dedicated.
Birthday Zachary,
I love


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After the War, Poetry by Miriam Beza

 Genre: Family, Love, War

Sunday, April 27, 2014 MVB

After the war

He was six when he arrived- a refugee among the many.

At least he had his mother

A London grey, wet, full of blasts

Like old man’s teeth with empty gaps

At least he went to school.

A Church of England girl’s school.

The boys’ school lie there in a pile of rabble.

At least he made a friend

And found a cat.

It looked so hungry and he took it home

His mother said it was a she, her coat was black

The paws were white He called her ‘Socks.

At least she had a name now.

The war was over, the party had died down.

At least the mother’s lover went.

And dad, he only knew from stories came.

A stranger troubled by bad dreams

He said they had to go and start afresh.

Go home and leave the cat and friends



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Watch the August 2016 Poetry Readings

Watch the August 2016 Poetry Readings.

DECISIONS, DECISIONS by Marcus J. King http://www.infamouskalel.wordpress.com

Performed by actor Julian Ford


FUCK UP by Keshia L. Nowden:

Performed by actor Becky Shrimpton


CANCER by CM Krishack:

Performed by actor Becky Shrimpton


Watch the Poetry Reading FALLING IN LOVE:

Poetry performed by actor Becky Shrimpton


Poetry #9 by Xzaviar Allen