Tag: poetry

MASOCHISTS, by Poetry by Kyle Jones

Your masters,
sick;
masochists.
Savages wrapped
in lavish masks,

Genre: Dark, Rhythmic, Deep

Masochists
by Kyle Jones

Your masters,
sick;
masochists.
Savages wrapped
in lavish masks,
the past unraveled it.
We’ve traveled
backwards,
cataract contact,
laughs with
con-act actors.
Intact cause our dad’s
dads were bastards.
We backtracked paths
and sat on past answers.
Planned for the damned
and we laughed at disaster.

 

 

 

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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

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39 WORDS, Poetry by Josslyn Rae Turner

birth family childhood friendship learn explore

adult love sex family children parent

dreams build break broken torn

tears anger fight affliction

Genre: Dark, Depression

 

39 Words

By

Josslyn Rae Turner  

 

birth family childhood friendship learn explore

adult love sex family children parent

dreams build break broken torn

tears anger fight affliction

 

birth family childhood friendship learn explore

abuse bully hate destroy

darkness deep hell within

struggle

no

more

END

 

 

 

 

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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

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The scent and sound of your beautiful soul, Poetry by Gordana Frgačić

Today
I was woken up
By the scent
Of your soul

Genre: Romance, Relationship, Love

The scent and sound of your beautiful soul
by Gordana Frgačić

 

Today
I was woken up
By the scent
Of your soul
You weren’t even near me
But I inhaled you
Through every pore
Of my skin
I floated
For a while
On the soft layers
Of your beautiful soul
Suddenly
I smiled
And I knew
Your soul just started to sing

 

 

 

 

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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

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DUST PILES, Poetry by Monique Haden

Sometimes we hold things in silence because

we have no clue where else to keep them.

Push and push with all my might to shove these

things deep inside my memory to form dust piles.

Let the edges tatter; set flame to it all. Feed the

fire, hear the crackles; watch the smoke signals.

Genre: Life, Society

DUST PILES
by Monique Haden

Sometimes we hold things in silence because

we have no clue where else to keep them.

Push and push with all my might to shove these

things deep inside my memory to form dust piles.

Let the edges tatter; set flame to it all. Feed the

fire, hear the crackles; watch the smoke signals.

Watch fragments align and form tiny goodbyes to past hurts.

 

We twist memories making them realities when similarities are far and few.

I applaud my memory for its picky choosing to

hang onto some clips so vividly and turning some

such ashy shades of black and grey it’s hard to make out anything worth something.

 

It plays tricks on me making bigger deals

out of things that should be forgotten…

pulling bed sheets over my eyelids, heavily

blanketed slumbers bring flashbacks.

 

Oh, the vivid artistry of this complex mind: why

must you hang onto things worth trashing and

forget all the tiny threads that bound you together

each time you broke? Makin’ friends with the dust

piles, seeking comfort in the messes. Trying to

keep your fists clenched. Keeping palms clean

through the madness just so when it’s time to

interlock grips with someone you love, your pain

doesn’t stain their fingerprints…

 

I wanna learn to get my hands dirty if it means letting go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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

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FACTORY OF DREAMS, Poetry by Katarina Jovcevska

You are my motivation

Simply,crazy inspiration

When I am in love

I hear the music in my heart

Every time.

Genre: Romance, Relationship, Love

 

 FACTORY OF DREAMS
by  Katarina Jovcevska

 

 

You are   my  motivation

Simply,crazy  inspiration

When I am in love

I hear  the music in my  heart

Every time.

 

You  are the reason to write

When  I think of you  day and night

I can do  a miracle

If just  one word

To adore and explore

I feel  that I soar

So highly  above this  horizon

You are so magical

And  Love  is so beautiful.

 

I imagine your  face

I am touching your grace

Let your kiss  comes to my lips immediately

Be my wonderful peace

Through the whole galaxy

Let catch you  my poetry

When your name I  am whispering

Let me be the happiest being

Which you have never seen

In  my factory of dreams.

 

 

 

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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

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Genius In Me, Poetry by Thato Pricey Ratlotlong

I intend to reach the universe without losing my soul

I’m the Great Grandson of the Forefathers

Like those four sons who were left by their four fathers

I will claim & protect my birth right

From the East to the West, its dawn then comes night

Genre: Rhyme, History, Identity

 

Genius In Me

 

I intend to reach the universe without losing my soul

I’m the Great Grandson of the Forefathers

Like those four sons who were left by their four fathers

I will claim & protect my birth right

From the East to the West, its dawn then comes night

 

The soil keeps the flash of those before us

We can’t all speak the so called universal language

Its jewel that brightens up our Africa

Before the sun came to pass.

Trust in your native self, and write the next page

 

We are caged, by our thoughts

We are lost! We can’t see the Genius in Us

Their tombs are engraved the words that fought

Our weakness

The Pyramids sculptured that which is taught

Our inventions

Fallen Kings, still cry for their kingdoms

They never trusted the Genius in Us

 

Tremor shook, we stood

Unveiling the thoughts we never understood

Encrypt the codes of poverty

Decode the codes of poetry

Revising the education Africa taught

Regain the genius you lost

I Am the Great Grandson of our Forefathers,

Genes of their Nature is with Me,

I Am the fruit birthed by our Godly Mothers

I have their Genius In Me
– Thato Ratlotlong

 

Twitter: @Priceythato

 

 

 

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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

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Porphyria’s Lover, Poetry by Arnab Dey

Walking down the alley,

Suddenly felt a strange wave;

She was strolling towards me,

Fresh out of the grave!

Genre: Rhyme, Sexy, Relationship, Romance

 

Porphyria’s Lover by Arnab Dey

 

1

 

Walking down the alley,

Suddenly felt a strange wave;

She was strolling towards me,

Fresh out of the grave!

 

Her hair was still unkempt,

But her flesh was so intact;

Closer cometh her,

To make an eye contact.

 

Her beauty’s inexplicable,

Beyond my wild fantasy;

Then we’re behind my stone,

To find utmost secrecy.

 

And then I kissed her perfect lips,

And touched her mind & soul;

And then she lifted my spirit,

And my body came along as a whole.

 

And we’d both spirited away,

Traversed through the drunken street;

Onlooking on all the rendezvous,

And deciding where again to meet.

 

 

2

 

Good morning dear,

It’s another day,

Try to get some sleep,

While Sun is in its full glory!

 

Good Afternoon baby,

Are you half-asleep now?

Sunlight is still out there

And church is having its last call.

 

Good evening sweetheart,

Wake up! Wake up!

Let’s start our holy night

While city’s busy relaxing.

 

Good night lover,

Hold my hand and fly away,

Touch all the graves on the way,

It’s time to spread the joy!

 

 

 

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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

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It Starts with Her Awkward Hairline, Poetry by Patri Wright

the bit behind her ear, along the bone,
I accidentally on purpose stroke
as the comb starts to move freely. Her head
between my knees, a kiss on her lobe —
something she wouldn’t get in a salon —

Genre: Sexy

It Starts with Her Awkward Hairline
by Patri Wright

the bit behind her ear, along the bone,

I accidentally on purpose stroke

as the comb starts to move freely. Her head

between my knees, a kiss on her lobe —

something she wouldn’t get in a salon —

and fingers that look for further lugs.

The part along her neck too, the transition

of neck and scalp, like beach and sea

where hairs grow upward. Once she

hid it from view, calling herself simian;

and now it’s a zone, one she says I made

for her, that wasn’t there before.

I kiss this too, following the teeth

and say: ‘Repeat: “I am beautiful.”’

She says: ‘You are beautiful.’ Still that’s

better than it was, as I work on her

one stage at a time. All that’s left now

is the style, and I start back with the comb,

fan out a fringe as she watches TV.

The filaments are the days we’ve got left.

Roots of silver I cover with cosmic blue.

And here an echo, almost unheard.

I did this for another. I was smaller.

We had an electric fire. She wore

rollers. And it was far from a chore,

rather utmost pleasure, untangling

strands until they flowed like rivers.

I still seem to know how much pressure

to apply, not to hurt a single nerve.

 

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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

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Eleree, Poetry by Bill Bobber

She walks through my inner sanctum like a weightless angel, glowing with the greenest of wonder, her gothic branches of mystical innocence are white clouds under my feet, further down the dirt road of lost dreams, I

Genre: Love

Eleree
by Billy Bobber

She walks through my inner sanctum like a weightless angel, glowing with the greenest of wonder, her gothic branches of mystical innocence are white clouds under my feet, further down the dirt road of lost dreams, I see a lighted flower bloom, the dark clouds lift me into your arms of true freedom, A clouded city with flowing sapphire that sparkle the lunar skyscrapers, A sea where I should be, Two ships waving free in the abyss, it can only mean it’s Eleree, My ever changing home of dark clarity, I’m helplessly alive as she breaks my walls with graceful surprise, The only thing that could bring me back to being a grown boy inside, two feathers reunited in melodic connection, this tragedy was the only way, The pinnacle of experience flourishes in going away, here is where we grow love, I see you on a leaf like mine, I jump off without any doubt towards yours, Now we fall together with millions of your peaceful tears of compassion, I never want to leave here, where the sun, earth and moon burn relatable oblivion like embers, I can’t believe I can release someone like you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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

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Missing Pieces, Poetry by Barbara Hunt

Despair and longing shredded his soul as he silently gazed upon the family he once had

Pain smoldered and cut through his heart like a knife causing an ache as rememberance flung him into a dark hole cold to the touch shuddering as if very sad

Genre: family, dark, sad, and lost

Missing Pieces
by Barbara Hunt

Despair and longing shredded his soul as he silently gazed upon the family he once had

Pain smoldered and cut through his heart like a knife causing an ache as rememberance flung him into a dark hole cold to the touch shuddering as if very sad

Nothing could be done he had to save his brothers soul even if it was black and deep as rocks of coal

The small window of family closed never to be forgotten as he said a silent goodbye he turned wishing things were different but alas this was his choice and these sacred pieces would have to continue to be lost

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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