Read Poem: Study in Red, by Cathy Cade

My masterpiece, complete, twice edited
and printed out in pristine black and white,
is taken up with reverence from the printer.
I’ll scan once more to check that all is right,

then send it off. Oops, there’s a missing s,
conspicuous by its absence. What a pain!
Where’s the red pen?
Perhaps that longish sentence
doesn’t sound quite right. – re-word again?

There’ll surely be much better words than much
for that last phrase, and does this word exist?
Should it?
I’m not sure about this comma… Look it up.
See, here’s a full-stop missed.

My masterpiece is black and white and red,
with crimson spiders crawling west to east.
Back to the laptop.
Change, expand, erase,
Repair and print out one more time – at least.

Cathy Cade
http://www.cathy-cade.com

SURVIVAL, Poetry by Nwoko Alexandre

Many feel survival is more in the animal kingdom. Some years back, I was watching a TV station on animal survival documentary. And to be quite honest with you. The very day an animal is born, it starts surviving till its death. What I envy about them is the fact that the don’t seek pity, the keep on trying and adapt quite quickly to everything.

Genre: Society, Survivor

SURVIVAL

Many feel survival is more in the animal kingdom. Some years back, I was watching a TV station on animal survival documentary. And to be quite honest with you. The very day an animal is born, it starts surviving till its death. What I envy about them is the fact that the don’t seek pity, the keep on trying and adapt quite quickly to everything.

Truth is animals aren’t in fact too different from we humans. But the difference is when we start growing up, we forget about survival. But the animals grow up with only one thing on their mind which is survival. Our growing up is meant to be preparation for survival. Truth is that isn’t what we are doing right now. The world is getting to the stage whereby your academic excellence doesn’t determine your survival in the real world. Statistics over the years has shown that people who do well academically don’t transform that success in the real life. I think it’s only true for us to say that your fathers success isn’t enough to keep you throughout life without achieving anything yourself. The world has come to the stage whereby if you don’t prepare thoroughly for survival, you’ll literally die.

So since survival is very important, why isn’t it taught in schools, why isn’t it taught by our parents? The world isn’t for the patient anymore. Its for those who have the balls to go out there and take what’s theirs. The world isn’t for the weak no more. Learn to survive. Learn to be an animal when humans surround you.

By  Nwoko Alexandre

 

 

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Be the Light, Poetry by Yusef Vance

Be the light in a world that is full of darkness
Be the light of God shining deep inside of your heart
Be the light of tenderness and inspiration
Be the steady courage and motivation
Be the cornerstone

Genre: Inspiration, People

Be the Light by Yusef Vance
Be the light in a world that is full of darkness
Be the light of God shining deep inside of your heart
Be the light of tenderness and inspiration
Be the steady courage and motivation
Be the cornerstone
Be an example of why we are all heirs to the throne
Be the example that with God in your life you are never alone
Use the presence of the Holy Spirit to guide you
Be the fire that burns infinitely
Be the Zoe in this dying world
You were all destined for greatness way before any doctor delivered you into this world
Be the light to let everyone know that their dreams are not diminished
Be the light because we were all created “perfect in His image”
Be the living proof that God’s work is far from being finished!
“Be the Light”

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VAIN I AM, Poetry by A.D. Largie

Fooling myself, I deny my own instincts in matters of love and lust, who knows the difference even.

My vanity won’t allow me to love absent of lust, for it is lust that I love most.

Genre: People, Society

VAIN I AM by

A.D. Largie

Vain, I am shallow and selfish, against my own will.

Fooling myself, I deny my own instincts in matters of love and lust, who knows the difference even.

My vanity won’t allow me to love absent of lust, for it is lust that I love most.

Swimming in ecstasy my lover and I, we drain ourselves, panting and loathing beneath my private abode. Then…as time drags on I become weary as my lust fade…so does my love and my vanity won’t allow me to remain.

So, anew I seek. Spreading my net wide to capture another lover.

How can I be satisfied?

As distance grows between my former I think of she from time to time but my memories are filled with lust.

Sparked!

My vanity once again awakens my lustful intent…If only I can capture that moment again. I wonder.

But I dare not attempt. I have already scorned and torn her. Now she lays new ground finally thankful to receive some peace in my welcomed absence…

 

 

 

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iCLOUD, Poetry by Torien Brooks

Genre: Life, People, Society

by Torien Brooks

@KeepItTrillMane

Genre: Life, People, Society

by Torien Brooks

@KeepItTrillMane
icloud.png

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My Estranged Wife, Poetry by Nnamdi Wabara

Janet’s mouth is too bitter!
Worse than bitter leaf soup,
prepared by impatient spinsters, who find it hard,
to recoup the love and care of older sisters.

Genre: Relationship, Rhyme, People
My Estranged Wife by Nnamdi Wabara

Janet’s mouth is too bitter!
Worse than bitter leaf soup,
prepared by impatient spinsters, who find it hard,
to recoup the love and care of older sisters.

Janet’s mouth is too bitter!
Worse than the dogonyaro leaf,
administered in times of illness. The fear of which cures
I believe, the young lad than its potency.

Janet’s mouth is too bitter!
That i wonder if it’s the same lips,
i kissed on that day, with so much relish.
Singles looking on, in their eyes a wish.

Oh, Janet’s mouth is far too bitter!
That to avoid the venom in her spittle;
I make my way, to lay in the chickens’ litter.
There, there’s peace at least a little.

Nnamdi Wabara 2002
http://www.newerthots.blogspot.com

 

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The Day Before You Came, Poetry by Martina Moriarty McCarthy

I have always lived in the moment
never worried about the future
never questioned the past

‘You’
have turned a page in the book-of-life.

Soliloquy

Applause

Genre: Life, People, Romance

The Day Before You Came by Martina Moriarty McCarthy

I have always lived in the moment
never worried about the future
never questioned the past

‘You’
have turned a page in the book-of-life.

Soliloquy

Applause

I have excavated your existence from a concrete floor in the
out-house of my mind wearing a stained dress
of Golden thread, with one desire to bring you home.

My acid fears and burning tears spilled on Naked ground,
my shattered heart still beating Blood as I drilled without a sound
the cracks they came a creaking as I was on my knees,
I felt the earth beneath me t’was then I heard you breathe.

With eyes as bright as spot-lights to search the living Dead!
I dug my fingers deep into this Room inside my head
Frantic was my tool of choice its all I have to offer
you are worth your ‘wait’ in gold like I know…No Other.

I saw your hand reach out to me I Grabbed it with my mouth-
my lips a grip… a Mothers ‘tale’ the gate-way past the hounds.
Not a word was spoken,
no praise or criticize
a mission just to clarify your unseen ultra-sound?

I looked at you this morning,
you studied me in quest
that begged the question who are you?
and why you quietly left
I’v never liked my shadow
for I was only two… when you escaped…but no one sees I found myself in you.

My words to you this new born day, are for eyes-and-ears alone
No matter what your purpose is your blessed that you were born.
I made my bed this evening, and lie in it I shall
no covers here but fearless needs, in the birth of life’s canal.

 

 

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EVERYDAY MASKS, Poetry by DHERIC Da Poet

Sometimes blue
Sometimes shaded
Sometimes painted
Sometimes faded
Other times you just can’t state the state of your mask.

Genre: Rhyme, People, Life

EVERYDAY MASKS
by DHERIC Da Poet

Sometimes blue
Sometimes shaded
Sometimes painted
Sometimes faded
Other times you just can’t state the state of your mask.

We put on new faces
When new phases appear.
Our smiles alone
Could take the sorrow off one’s tear.

Yet,
Deep down, our souls yearn for joy.
Regretting what our past once destroyed.

Sometimes, deliberate.
Other times, not;
We change the masks so quickly, we forget who we really are.

Our faces become new to us.
Our purpose eludes us: Our path becomes strange.
That’s the point we start believing our own lies.

FB: http://facebook.com/ghpoetry/
IG: thePoet_Dheric
Twitter: @SonOfGod_Saved

 

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PAPA’S NEW WIFE, Poetry by Nnamdi Wabara

I had gone back towards the Living Room.

For my School Text, which I had left on the side table.

My Math assignment to be redone, errors rife.

But Papa had a visitor, who whispered with him, like thieves about a heirloom.

Then out of the hushed tones, the inaudible rabble;

Papa said ” Tomorrow, she’ll be here; My New Wife”.

Genre: Family, Life, People

PAPA’S NEW WIFE by Nnamdi Wabara

 

I had gone back towards the Living Room.

For my School Text, which I had left on the side table.

My Math assignment to be redone, errors rife.

But Papa had a visitor, who whispered with him, like thieves about a heirloom.

Then out of the hushed tones, the inaudible rabble;

Papa said ” Tomorrow, she’ll be here; My New Wife”.

 

 

My young legs became filled with copious lead.

I froze to the spot. Enraged, yet rooted.

My heart thundered against my ribs, as if to break free.

And worse. The door opened. It was Revd. Gilead.

Parish Pastor and regular partaker of Mama’s delicious stewed Goat head.

I dodged as he made to pat my head, lest he stain me with his filthy mire.

 

 

That Evening at dinner, I couldn’t swallow even a morsel.

I just sat at the table staring at my plate, while my mind rioted.

Watching him even feed Mama pieces of fish from his soup. The Traitor!

My two little sisters chatted merrily and helped finish my cup of Sorrel.

My parents soon stood and hand in hand, whilst giggling, announced they had retired.

I soon left as well, not having the heart while my sisters washed up, to monitor.

 

 

Sleep that night was turbulent. I tossed and turned.

What could turn a godly man, an avowed Christian, polygamous?

When just the other day, he had railed against infidelity in the Church.

He wouldn’t even shake the Landlord’s hand after the Caretaker’s young daughter became his newly wed.

Gone were his public vows of ensuring his children became famous.

How possible, when the new wife will fight us over even the battered couch.

 

 

Then I wondered if at all we will be in Papa’s will.

Mama’s three daughters’ stood no chance against a new son in the African Custom.

Oh the injustice of it all, as I fell into a fitful sleep.

And I dreamt we were Romans and were gathered to feast on some bounty kill.

Though dressed in Togas’, I could still make out people in the place, including my Grand-Mom.

The Revd. Gilead was called Brutus, and I wished he would remain there as Caesar’s keep.

 

 

The Morning only brought me high fevers.

All sweaty, with splitting headaches. Mama sent word to School through my sisters.

I feigned sleep as Papa felt my forehead and prayed for my recovery. Evil Man!

At noon, I heard Mama’s excited shout; “Nne, come and see your Father’s New Wife”. Gone were the feverish shivers.

I charged out. An ill and weak Nine Year Old. Machete in hand. To ensure justice and preserve the honour of Mama and my sisters.

There she was. A White Volkswagen Beetle. Glistening in the Sun. Papa had bought a new Car. My Sweet Old Man.

 

Nnamdi Wabara, 2016.( newerthots.blogspot.com )

 

 

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The Yearning, Poetry by Rishi Abhishek

Oh! Lord, how I have tried to write my heart out,

pouring it out like a waterfall into an abyss,

out on the paper in ink,

and how I have failed

to make it seen,

that which is invisible,

Genre: People, Emotion, Struggle

 

The Yearning by Rishi Abhishek
               Oh! Lord, how I have tried to write my heart out,
               pouring it out like a waterfall into an abyss,
               out on the paper in ink,
               and how I have failed
               to make it seen,
               that which is invisible,
               that which I can only feel but not see,
               and that which is not ought to be shown,
               to them who seek to see
              with privy eyes,
              but to them who can see the soul of others,
              just as they can feel their own.
              That which I try to allude to,
              that which has always eluded me,
              that which others know only
              through great works by great men,
              but none knows, as none sees,
              for they ween theirs to be it.
              And nothing has changed,though;
              And though nothing has changed,
              everything that has seemed so hollow
              has been filled again
              by nothing more than its own vacancy,
              For what is meant to be filled
              never ought to be left hollow:
              the Heart, lest of all things.
              And then, time takes it forward,
              as change takes it over,
              and man with strangeness in his eyes,
              looks at what is familiar,
              that which is inevitable and immortal,
              that which he thought was himself.”

 

 

 

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