Tag: poet

MY BEAUTIFUL CIRCUMSTANCES, Poetry by Takudzwa Mudiwa

“For the longest time I was taught
Certain shadows should stay in the darkness.
I have spent far too long trying to make sense of what this is, trying to merge the pieces together trying to love my circumstances.
I have realised I am the closest thing to nature.
The sun absorbs me and becomes darkness, you look up at me in cold breeze and get lost in my stars.
Constellations weaving together revealing my ancestors.

Genre: Motivational and Inspirational

MY BEAUTIFUL CIRCUMSTANCES
by Takudzwa Mudiwa

“For the longest time I was taught
Certain shadows should stay in the darkness.
I have spent far too long trying to make sense of what this is, trying to merge the pieces together trying to love my circumstances.
I have realised I am the closest thing to nature.
The sun absorbs me and becomes darkness, you look up at me in cold breeze and get lost in my stars.
Constellations weaving together revealing my ancestors.

I have began to believe that whenever a shooting star happens it’s my people celebrating – singing of high praises and sweet goodbyes.
You are yesterday’s “I got through it”
Today’s “sunset”
Tomorrow’s “sunrise”
Ten years ago you were the apology.
At this moment in time you are thunder and lighting.

You have not done all this inhaling and exhaling to be timid. You are the night sky and everything in it. The victory within your skin is a melody. An arrangement of notes that only a whole orchestra full of rich heavy brass tones fighting with the whisper of a trembling harp could fathom.

Why tame our feathers when we can fly.
Expanding our wings so they are as big as our dreams.

There’s no need to apologise because I have found comfort within the shadows.
And years ago what looked like a flicker is now an explosion.

I have reveled in the shade and all it’s spirits I have danced on tiptoes with them till the early mornings – hid them in between my ribcage.
Letting them savage every bit of my heart that’s left until my lungs were crying out with mercy, until they had came way too familiar with the loss of air.

Here I am now

I have spent far too long sitting outside the door, collecting my fears and storing them beneath the welcome mat.

Well I am dusting my feet off, leave the door behind me open. I have no fear.

There I will speak it into existence,
Until I can watch from a distance a whole house full of regrets collapse”

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Solutions, Poetry by Julius Wells

Fuck love
Because that other shit is permanent
She said she would hate me forever
And man I’m learning quick
That she really meant it
This feeling is so senseless
This feeling cannot last
This feeling shit is trash

Genre: Sad, Romance, Relationship

Solutions
by Julius Wells

Fuck love
Because that other shit is permanent
She said she would hate me forever
And man I’m learning quick
That she really meant it
This feeling is so senseless
This feeling cannot last
This feeling shit is trash
To be feeling shit like this makes me want to be feel my wrist with glass
And slice
But instead I just…
I fill my life with brashness
I feel and hope that it’ll cover up the sadness
And the madness but it fucking doesn’t, it’s endless
And I can’t make sense of why love left me defenseless
From this cold cold world that life gives, and now in listless
I’m feeling like if life providing answers, I really must’ve missed it
You came into my life and made me feel complete
But I never learned happiness on my own, this shit is weak
And I’m somehow even weaker
Because I’m dependent on this thing and I’m searching for it like a creeper
Stalker. Hiding in the bushes looking for you
Hoping I can be whole again, hoping I can renewed
But instead I’m strangely feeling so empty
Love left me with potholes on the road through life and so I’m tripping
What do I fill it with?
How do I cement my path?
I can’t replace this shit with something I do not have
Since love left me, angst has been my tool
But the hole that love left is the size of a fucking pool
So I strive for hate and despair, until I’m fat and full
And I Ignore and avoid the strength of loves pull

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THE GREATEST GIFT, Poetry by Augustine Sam

Autumn in Florence
Is a mélange of the elements of charm
A yawn away from the steady shivers lying beyond
At dusk, a wistful stroll along eclectic memoried boulevards
With echoes of church bells in tow
Unveils a canny sense of things
A nostalgic glimpse of old things,
Old people, old places,
Bequeathing their secrets unreservedly,
At the end of a tacky, melancholic day

Genre: Nature, Weather, Italy, City

THE GREATEST GIFT
by Augustine Sam

Autumn in Florence
Is a mélange of the elements of charm
A yawn away from the steady shivers lying beyond
At dusk, a wistful stroll along eclectic memoried boulevards
With echoes of church bells in tow
Unveils a canny sense of things
A nostalgic glimpse of old things,
Old people, old places,
Bequeathing their secrets unreservedly,
At the end of a tacky, melancholic day

It is autumn in Florence …
Even the blind can tell
For a whiff of that dry Tuscan air,
Disguised as a romantic breath on the cheek
Now wafts soothingly, alluringly,
Like the caressing whisper of a lover at dawn
The gaiety, the gossip,
The veritable quality of the decline of the year
All of it a mishmash of this season of gloom
And caught in the midst of it, you and I,
‘Cause in our souls, a conscious dread had sprung

It is autumn in Florence …
Even a tot can tell
From the inexorable surge of parched foliage and withering flora
Now palpable like a beauty queen wilting with the passage of time
As an impotent sun looms
With a staggering degree of poetic frenzy, like a bad omen
Over that little piazza I call lair and you call refuge
Jaded, like the dream that steered us here
Nadir, like our possibilities, and poised to snap,
Like the fragile thread holding our sanity together

It is autumn in Florence …
Even the inebriated can tell
For the Tuscan sky is daubed with gray-hued awnings
A kaleidoscope of waning streaks, epitomizing
The artistic finesse of the heavens
A subtle connotation, a riveting verity that
Four times a year the seasons change without fail
That now leaves must turn sallow and plummet, and flowers must wither
And with them, everything except us,
Must leap beyond their prime

It is autumn in Florence …
Even a troll can tell
From that lingering mystery of vitality and lethargy,
So exquisite, so sophisticated,
That no longer obscures the daunting haze that strains the air
In the flush and bloom of early womanhood, you …
Radiant like a new moon on a starlit night
Cunningly oblivious of the secrets of my tears
Paying no heed to the disheartening dread that swathes me
For in this season, with every leaf that falls,
And every flower that withers, your days are numbered

It is autumn in Florence …
Even an obtuse can tell
From the stunning sight of Fiesole transformed into violet by the magic of twilight
And now, here we are—you and I—ensnared by a dream
Unraveled by a foe, invincible and vile
Like injured rebels ferried home to roost
Desolate hands too volatile to reach
Ardent eyes too doleful to watch
As your frailty eats you up with delicious cruelty
The way a vulture does a prey
Causing every fantasy within the limits of our amorous deeds
To evaporate, along with the last breath in your lungs

It is autumn in Florence …
Even dreamers can tell, for
The vestiges these bleak nights amass were once stacks of hope
On which now abide memories undimmed
A better friend than you life never gave
You were the bloom that autumn failed to erode
The warmth that winter couldn’t pinch from me
The wind that summer could not smother
The flare that’ll forever be my spring
But more than all this, my love,
You were life’s
Greatest gift
To
Me.

©Augustine Sam
http://augustinesam.wix.com/authorsuite

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DANCE IN THE BLIZZARD, A Poem by GT Zinn

Cover me up. Fall over my head
Lend me your words, dream in red
Glisten is that salt on your skin
And I ask to wash up in your sin
Baptized within the salty rain
Scorched but not feeling all the pain

Genre: Life

DANCE IN THE BLIZZARD
A Poem by GT Zinn

Cover me up. Fall over my head
Lend me your words, dream in red
Glisten is that salt on your skin
And I ask to wash up in your sin
Baptized within the salty rain
Scorched but not feeling all the pain

Can’t see past my face, it’s absurd
They say you can’t dance in the blizzard
I say who really needs to see anyway
Only her eyes I gaze so we’ll dance away

Make me move the moon just to be bane
Underwater, are my thoughts really that sane?
Sparkle sparkle from each iris eyering
I’m grounded, but believe that I am flying
Is it rude to conclude and have not a sight
Maybe it’s a feeling that I hope to incite

Can’t see past my face, it’s absurd
They say you can’t dance in the blizzard
I say who really needs to see anyway
Only her eyes I gaze so we’ll dance away

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M.E. – JUST CUT AND PASTE….., Poetry by Bill Clayton

Hair’s a mess, can’t get dressed
Can I shower, that’s the test
Done Ok, the shoes are on
Now where the hell’s my energy gone?
Another day has been a waste
Another day just cut and paste.

Genre: Motivational, Inspirational

M.E. – JUST CUT AND PASTE…..
by Bill Clayton

Hair’s a mess, can’t get dressed
Can I shower, that’s the test
Done Ok, the shoes are on
Now where the hell’s my energy gone?
Another day has been a waste
Another day just cut and paste.

Can’t get the hang of doing nowt
Want to do, wanna go out
Every day just the same
Precious life going down the drain
Another day has been a waste
Another day just cut and paste.

Made a plan, things to do
Gotta get out, meet with you
Head’s a traffic jam again
Cones are out, no working men
Brain’s just stuck in bottom gear
No way I’m leaving here
Another day has been a waste
Another day just cut and paste.

Another day down the drain
Another day, lots of pain
Shakes like hell, couldn’t yell
Could hardly even speak
Words not there, people stare
Me feeling like a freak
Legs like stone, feel so alone
Need to be safe back at home
Another day has been a waste
Another day just cut and paste.

Politicians do your sums
We’re not a load of idle bums
Don’t just stand and bang your gums
Don’t just cut and paste

ME won’t let us live
For that sin I won’t forgive
It gives a little, takes a lot
But beware our souls can’t be bought
My inner strength will work tenfold
To leave M.E out in the cold
To this Illness I will lay waste
Spread the word……
Just cut and paste…..

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Humanity’s Collective Oulipo Experiment, Poetry by Jeffrey J. Garrett

Nights will flaunt life
to perilous laughter. It’s not all that bad.
An inability to join in, anyway,
it was the Saturday of the football game.

Genre: Flarf poetry

Humanity’s Collective Oulipo Experiment
by Jeffrey J. Garrett

Nights will flaunt life
to perilous laughter. It’s not all that bad.
An inability to join in, anyway,
it was the Saturday of the football game.

Sometimes they live in an occupied country,
and the occupying power has no intention of the world.
Pretty colorful, isn’t it? Sure, it might do just as much good to yodel
a taunting, singsong melody repeated a shocking number of times
over a twangy electric rhythm section that appears
to have gone insane.

The following are links to some movements of loneliness and like that:
while researchers suss out such questions,
to have complete fealty to the truth,
photographs of people in both pleasant settings
and unpleasant settings
to remember times with friends, thus suggesting that we can actually feel social chills
connecting with them.
What a party animal, right?

Obituaries are instances of journalistic biography.
A stylized mask that was also
a sort of optical illusion—
you had another mask.

You can write about the recently dead a million different ways.
We do it fundamentally impersonally,
resurrecting the last working days of the victims,
attention to the mind-fields of the socially isolated.

Isolation and our physical health.
Outdated conceptualisms and the reframing of race relations,
a future in which everyone commands a voice and
a platform, and platitude and a pogrom. A poetry.

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Earthworm, Poetry by Reena Prasad

Between the beef eaters

and man haters, I wallow

swallowing all the shit

My entrails living up to their fame

Genre- HUMANITY, NATURE

Earthworm
by Reena Prasad

Between the beef eaters

and man haters, I wallow

swallowing all the shit

My entrails living up to their fame

not yet dragged out by rapists,

or blown into balloons by revelers

working overtime, adamant not to let

the poison go unfiltered

back into the soil

when I add my bit

(c) Reena Prasad.

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The Poet’s Pen, Poetry by Eleanor Mell

It’s difficult dear Lord to say,

The feelings that I have today.

At times, I’m joyous with my life.

Genre: Hope-Faith

The Poet’s Pen
By Eleanor Mell

It’s difficult dear Lord to say,

The feelings that I have today.

At times, I’m joyous with my life.

At times I’m sad because the strife.

It seems I have a Poet’s pen,

A talent that has always been.

But dear Lord it makes me mad

About the words I could have had.

The songs and stories that I missed,

Because I lacked a sense of bliss.

Please forgive me for not knowing.

Lift my spirit—I’m still growing.

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Bloodshot Eyes and Tearstained Cheeks, Poetry by Amber Lee

I find myself alone with bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks
finally releasing the emotions I’ve kept suppressed for week

I lay here in this dark and humid room
wishing for one thing: to be next to you

Genre: deep, soul, dark, night, overthinking

Bloodshot Eyes and Tearstained Cheeks
by Amber Lee

I find myself alone with bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks
finally releasing the emotions I’ve kept suppressed for week

I lay here in this dark and humid room
wishing for one thing: to be next to you

I promised I wouldn’t succumb to these dangerous thoughts
but since you’re not around, they’re all that I’ve got

the voices of nostalgia are trying to convince me that things were better in the past
I’m starting to believe them, I want to go back

I know better than to think this, it drives people mad
for nostalgia just tries to make people long for the things they had

I need to domesticate my mind, before it imprisons me
so I find myself alone with bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks

afl 7/9/15

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THE PRICE OF LOVE $$$, Poetry by James Gary

What can this madness be
That dost cause my mind to see
You, as if you were near
When only in spirit, your soul is here
What voodoo dirge I’m under

Genre: Rhyme, Life, Society

THE PRICE OF LOVE $$$
by James Gary

What can this madness be
That dost cause my mind to see
You, as if you were near
When only in spirit, your soul is here
What voodoo dirge I’m under
That wouldst my heart to wonder
With such a steady pain
Liken to a Far eastern monsoon rain
Be thou still aching heart
What troubles thee, seizures mind
Less from my body I should fling apart
Oh that I could leave thee two behind,
And as my journey should anew
‘Out heart or mind to see me through
And o’er this circumference I should go
They’d say from Hades, a being sent
With shuffle-step he dost wander
His eyes a fixed and catatonic glow
And faculties successfully rent
Only he’d known his feelings wouldst grow fonder/
And wish if I were able To have never set foot upon this place
Saw thy beauty at the table Grecian love etched thy face
And to never have taken that first glance That played the stage for fool’s romance
And greater cause of, histories melancholy
More renown than General Custer’s folly

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