Tag Archives: new poetry

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 … Continue reading

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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 … Continue reading

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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 … Continue reading

Posted in 2019 Poetry, new poetry, poet, poetry, Poetry Festival, Uncategorized | Tagged , | Leave a comment

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 … Continue reading

Posted in 2018 Poetry, new poetry, poem, poet, poetry, Poetry Festival, Uncategorized | Tagged , | Leave a comment

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 … Continue reading

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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 … Continue reading

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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 … Continue reading

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