Tag: poetry

The Novice and the Goddess, Poetry by Erik Thomas

Dream, let your emotions stream…

…Across the seam of a border to a greater being

Brought together by a greater means…

…The proper pronunciation of the letters L-O-V and E

Genre: Fantasy, Love Story

 

The Novice and the Goddess
by Erik Thomas

 

Dream, let your emotions stream…

…Across the seam of a border to a greater being

Brought together by a greater means…

…The proper pronunciation of the letters L-O-V and E

 

Question…

 

When was the last time you met your match…?

Let me explain, this object of sentiment who puts your whole mind intact, a sudden awakening within, you’ve gained a drive to catch, her eye at a moments notice before your opportunity’s left…  out the door without a word, its almost unfair you see… you took a bit too long to

 

Allow me to take you on a voyage, ill explain it vocally… a lesson learned amounts to greater meaning than teaching a soul with you hope you see…?

 

That… if you don’t take me now, ill have a heart attack love

My fatal convulsions worth us not spending time in fact love

That, ive gone past the point of return, no Turning back love

Trapped in the depths of mental consumption without  fates escape route skittle path love

Theres no way to backtrack without your support Mona me

Soon you’ll see, that what we were, aint half as much as what well be…

Ill raise the rivers, move the moons, and fucking separate the sea…

Id ward off all your demons while you rest easy for the rest of eternity…

Ill show you exactly what I’ve become, If you’d come stand here next to me.

I need you love, don’t walk away… open your eyes and soon you’ll see.

 

But then she whispered the truths of her dying affection toward his hoping presence without glee…her piercing words even dropped our hopeless hero to his knees…she said. “My time here is passed, and with your obtained knowledge your undoubtedly soon the be, the most magnificent mind materialized meant for the sake love ever over the course of history.” He replied, fuck your stupid logic, just look at what you’ve done to me! Before he spoke another word, she laughed at his animosity… she said “I’ve given you the best ascension toward romantic divinity…how could you even almost deny the prospects of my wish to set you free…?” He staggered over his sentence, but he managed to get his point out clear and free… you’ve taught me how to ‘think’ and create all the things that I do see… to recognize the bounds of ones desires and how to offer them their dreams… however, the one thing you haven’t instructed was what I take in personally…my own essentials were never met, as well as the necessities… the one thing I’ve ever wanted was to make ‘you’ live so happily… you don’t get it, I wont love again, this marks the end of me, youre all I’ve ever wanted, and you’ll be all I ever need… ill say it once more as your Romeo, Juliet please don’t leave…?

I promise to god, if you walk out that door ill fucking cease to breathe…q;[

 

Her expression was unforeseen, she hadn’t expected this… her perception on what she’d done here…and all for just a kiss? She couldn’t quite see why he cared so much, or what she’d done to deserve this, she couldn’t bare to see him loveless again… but she wouldn’t  suffer through the bliss… before she motioned to speak again, she noticed a wetness on her face… a single tear slid down her warming cheek, then she noticed her mistake… apparently she showed someone who had nothing, the most excellent virtues of what ‘love’ could make… she altered an entire thought process, and then his heart was left to break, she cried the happiest tears she’d ever fathomed as he offered his hand once more to take… Then, the Goddess outreached her arm, with a bit of hesitation, how on heaven or why on earth had she created this revalation, surpassed amongst her own craft… shocked amidst the presence of his creation… a minds time consumption of true creativity is bounds for miraculous manifestation…

 

A sound seconds slower than Sadam’s Saudi Arabian invasion yet light years faster than a single inhalation pace placed to save face in case of cardio pulmonary resuscitation — she went left told him to close his eyes took a breath &blew a wind from her chest blessed with the rest of her best stuff  summoning a gust that mustv done it – err sent our hero to plummet – to death by way of ripping the soul from his chest – he expected none lessz

 

The Novice & The Goddess

 

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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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Life: A Writer’s Purgatory, Poetry by Lauren Kruczyk

I’ve survived the labyrinth of trial and error,
and have concededly accepted the nomenclature
of a writer in either timid self-proclamation
or through overly proud avail.

Genre: Artist, Rhyme, Life

Life: A Writer’s Purgatory
by Lauren Kruczyk

I’ve survived the labyrinth of trial and error,
and have concededly accepted the nomenclature
of a writer in either timid self-proclamation
or through overly proud avail.

Though the words do not yet slide
off the tongue in quite the way I’d like,
I have,
once or twice,
believed the words to be true.

I stagger, rejection mocking me,
wallowing in self-pity,
as I envision with such banality
the proud smirk of those who believe they possess such talent.

But without this treachery,
one could not be a writer;
the all-encompassing double-edged sword.

It is a rare skill
to strike a sensible balance
between hope and lack of delusion.

Those foolish enough to herald self-righteous decree
and clench tightly to a proud belief
that there is no room for improvement in their work
have already failed.

These fools will “comfort” you‚
that I know for sure.
A special kind of compassion served with a hearty dose of pity and a sprinkle of condescension.

I often wonder what this bliss must feel like;
pouring our souls into the world,
yet never truly at peace.
We crave notoriety; yet live as hermits.
We want to possess humility, yet feel deeply special;
like no one else in the world.

And with that creeps in undeniable tragedy;
the weight of our pain intends to break us.

A catch-22 it is;
our troubles arrive as if they were a magnetic force.
But if backed into a corner,
a writer will forever choose tragedy.
That is our cross to bear.

Yet in the slight moments when we rise to a purer place,
we settle upon the realization
that through every teardrop,
the vast feeling of emptiness
must be worth it after all.

 

 

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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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WHAT OF THE UNKNOWN PATH, Poetry by Maria Parent

What of the unknown path?
That gives you such an ache,
the crossroad you came to…
the step you didn’t take.

Genre: Life, Motivational

WHAT OF THE UNKNOWN PATH
~ By Maria Parent

What of the unknown path?
That gives you such an ache,
the crossroad you came to…
the step you didn’t take.

What of the unknown path?
….a regret ‘til the end?
A secret mystery
that time cannot transcend.

What of the unknown path?
You yearn for when alone…
Lost in your solitude;
Confused and on your own.

What of the unknown path?
That calmly calls you back,
with unfamiliar turns…
deep dark and often black.

What of the unknown path?
Its destination blurred,
its journey never known,
the memories not incurred.

What of the unknown path?
You may not ever know.
Instead just look forward…
as onward you must go.

 

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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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On the Wallaby with you, Love Poetry by David J Delaney

You know! It’s always great, to sit down with your mate
and talk of all the places that you’ve been.
Around the campfire light, beneath the stars so bright,
we reminisce on all the sights we’ve seen,
and, as we’re sitting back, the billy, old and black,
now boils and spits onto the campfire flame.
Then, looking back at you, I feel your love that’s true,
I’m pleased that you agreed to take my name.

Part of the 2016 LOVE Poetry Festival.

On the Wallaby with you
by David J Delaney

You know! It’s always great, to sit down with your mate
and talk of all the places that you’ve been.
Around the campfire light, beneath the stars so bright,
we reminisce on all the sights we’ve seen,
and, as we’re sitting back, the billy, old and black,
now boils and spits onto the campfire flame.
Then, looking back at you, I feel your love that’s true,
I’m pleased that you agreed to take my name.

So as I fill your cup, (beside your bluey pup)
again I’m drifting back to when we met,
was Brisbane at Rocklea, when you first noticed me,
I knew you were the one I had to get.
Now after all these years, including sometimes tears,
our love has just grown stronger everyday,
and while we’re on the road, we share each others load,
until we find another place to stay.

We talk of Wineglass bay, that Tassie summer day,
how we walked hand in hand along the shore.
Port Arthur’s famous jail, (where prisoners would wail)
were buried on that island by the score,
or when we stayed at Sale where hay I tried to bale
before we headed out to see Karween.
Then rode the scenic rail down in old Flowerdale,
We’ve never seen the land so lush and green.

And how we felt the chill, at ‘Eagle on the hill’
when building snowmen in the local park.
We read about a bloke (who struck the Sydney smoke)
at Stuart town once known as Ironbark.
At the Cervantes fair, we smelt the fresh sea air
and heard the poets spruik their very best.
With Tamworth’s country din, we merrily joined in,
we wore Akubras and a leather vest.

Then up in Kakadu I hung on tight to you,
when that large croc leapt at the boat for food,
and down near Uluru, that’s when you spotted ‘Blue’,
your charming way I just could not allude.
The river Todd’s a place, we went to watch a race,
and laughed at all those boats with hairy legs.
Then how could we forget, the Queensland far north wet,
those northerners who drink their beer from kegs.

If we did settle down, in some small country town,
we’d write a book as thick as ‘War and Peace’.
Of summers and the rain, of happiness and pain,
and oceans, birds, and jumbucks and their fleece,
though here we sit again, years travelled tally ten,
I know we’ll keep on moving for some time.
For you my darling love, I thank the Man above,
and sometimes write about you in my rhyme.

For now, I’ll write a song by this old billabong,
of how we like to hold each other tight.
And while you stroke blue’s ear, I turn and say, ‘My dear,
you’re perfect like the Kimberleys tonight’.
I knew it from the start, back when you stole my heart
there’s nothing in the world I’d rather do
than have you by my side, my love I just can’t hide,
when touring ‘on the wallaby’ with you.

David J Delaney
18/01/2011 ©

Outright winner, Reef Writers & Port Douglas Gazette poetry competition 2011.

 

 

 

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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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Love – A Mystical Paradox, Love Poetry by Somali K Chakrabarti

A fuzzy feeling had tiptoed in

To silently grasp me in its grip

I found myself waiting to catch a glimpse

Cherishing hours of endless larks and talks

Holding hands in the alley on walks,

Relishing the whiff of a life giving zephyr,

Love!!

Part of the 2016 LOVE Poetry Festival.

Love – A Mystical Paradox

A fuzzy feeling had tiptoed in

To silently grasp me in its grip

I found myself waiting to catch a glimpse

Cherishing hours of endless larks and talks

Holding hands in the alley on walks,

Relishing the whiff of a life giving zephyr,

Love!!

 

Your intense gaze fixed on my face,

I lost myself in your entrancing embrace,

With an impulsive zeal our lips had met

In a gush of yearning, I was swept

Like a paper boat in the sea, I kept

Swirling on a colossal tide of desire,

Love!!

 

Riddles arose, riddles were solved,

Two souls merged, egos dissolved,

Playing the sweetest harmony of its kind,

In a communion of body and mind.

I discovered myself vibrant, alive,

Drinking the magical elixir,

Love!!

 

Love, the panacea for odds of life

Yet, was the reason for many a strife

Was it possession, an obsessive addiction?

A dependency swiveling around gratification;

From unconditional, it turned provisional

The cause of trepidation,

Love!!

 

Followed the inevitable separation, and its agony

Haunting like an unfinished symphony

In the depths of despair, it dawned on me-

Whether we meet again or not

A part of you will always be with me,

Despite the seal of destiny –

A mystical, paradox,

Love!!

 

© Somali K Chakrabarti

 

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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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What My Parent’s Gave Me, Poetry by Ada Castle

My mother was born a cherry blossom.
full of little budding flowers with the scent of heaven swirling around her space.
The same way a tea light flickers in a power starved bedroom.
Her glow enchanting, inviting, promising warmth but watch out or she will burn you,
striking you with her heat so quickly you will not be able to get away before she consumes you body and soul.

Genre: Family, Love, Relationship

What My Parent’s Gave Me 
by Ada Castle 

My mother was born a cherry blossom.
full of little budding flowers with the scent of heaven swirling around her space.
The same way a tea light flickers in a power starved bedroom.
Her glow enchanting, inviting, promising warmth but watch out or she will burn you,
striking you with her heat so quickly you will not be able to get away before she consumes you body and soul.

My mother charmed the branches of many plants not just trees,
her magic crossed borders,
she loved and loves freely,
not in a closet or a box with a lid.
she taught me to love the same way.

No tree caught my mother’s eye more than my father’s rough bark and smooth cracks upon the strength of his oakness.
The glow of her seduction made his thick sprigs sway towards her and he drank her heavenly scent in,
the same way you may enjoy a drink of wine,
a fruity intoxication of natural liquid made by the hands of those created to press out golden juices of something already,
miraculous, grandiose, tart but slightly addictive the more you brush your lips against it.

When you see me in my large frame that my father passed on to me,
know that underneath my mother’s little budding flowers are planted inside the place most people are hollow.
I enjoy the surprise in your eyes when you thought you had destroyed me by peeling away my tough layers,
while I just swirled the scent of heaven all around you.

 

 

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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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Man of the Marshes, Poetry by Kim M. Russell

Squelching through the muddy marshes,

Entanglements of grass and reeds,

He swipes at bolshy bulrushes,

Crumbles the heads into white seeds.

Genre: Rhyme, Ballad, Society

 

Man of the Marshes by Kim M. Russell

 

Squelching through the muddy marshes,

Entanglements of grass and reeds,

He swipes at bolshy bulrushes,

Crumbles the heads into white seeds.

 

Entanglements of grass and reeds

Bending, breaking as he strides by,

Crumbles the heads into white seeds,

Tossing them upwards to the sky.

 

Bending, breaking as he strides by,

Pondering the riddle of his pain,

Tossing them upwards to the sky,

The seeds tumble to earth again.

 

Pondering the riddle of his pain,

Feet planted in muddy marshes,

Soaked to the skin in pouring rain,

His heart is full of bulrushes.

 

Feet planted in muddy marshes,

Entangled in the grass and reeds,

His heart is full of bulrushes,

His head crumbling into white seeds.

 

© Kim M. Russell, 2016

 

 

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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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I Am Me, Poetry by Upender Reddy.

I’m a sky
Full of stars

I’m a body
Full of hidden scars

I’m a see-saw
Your happiness I draw

Genre: Personality

I Am Me by Upender Reddy. 
I’m a sky
Full of stars
I’m a body
Full of hidden scars
I’m a see-saw
Your happiness I draw
I’m a drink
Makes you think
I’m an absorber
Absorbing your emotions
I’m a illusion
Making you cross the ocean
I’m a mirage
U don’t see
I’m magic
You know me
I’m me

 

 

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GOD’S Pursuit, Poetry by BW 4 Christ

My prayers need answers

Answers that I seek

For a strong soul that is often meek

That pursuit doesn’t always take me to YOUR book

Genre: Rhyme, Spiritual

GOD’S Pursuit by BW 4 Christ

 

My prayers need answers

Answers that I seek

For a strong soul that is often meek

That pursuit doesn’t always take me to YOUR book

For I never know where to look

Sometimes it’s in the course of a day

That the answers come across my way

Other times it’s in YOUR pursuit of me

That you use the things I see

For YOU created me visually

It’s in the trees so strong and tall

It’s written on walls

Maybe a program on TV

Music that strikes the very heart of me

YOUR pursuit, YOUR woo, YOUR courtship, OUR relationship

All depends on the answers that I seek

For that soul that’s strong but often meek

That sometimes needs a wake up call

The cause for that fall

Just so I have no choice but to look up before the ground swallows me whole

And I lose that strong soul

That YOU created from the beginning

Set in a fallen world of free will

That keeps on sinning

Answers that it continuously seeks

A soul forced to be made weak

YOUR pursuit to capture just so YOU can make it free

Looks into the very heart of me

Patiently silently knocks at the door

With hope once more

Expecting just once chance

To break down the walls with no romance

Strongholds that were built in more than one night

Gave the devil his delight

Holding on to the lock and key

Swallowed up everything

No peace, self-control, hope or joy

Permanently scarred grown humans that used to be girls and boys

But that pursuit that YOU do

If we allow ourselves to be captured

We’ll be stuck to YOU

Living life more abundantly

Made whole and free

Strongholds washed away

Peace, joy, hope and all the other good fruit here to stay

No matter if it rains wet

But YOU dry with just YOUR breathe

Cause YOUR pursuit means we have met

That pursuit means the thrill is never gone

Away goes those sad songs

Cause YOU have reached and mended the very heart of me

YOUR pursuit, woo, courtship, relationship says

 

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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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WHIMSICAL PIMP, Poetry by Maria Lopez

When i see him in the morning
Reminds me of an old song,
Sinatra and gipsy kings
And motown
And rock n’ roll.

Genre: Life

WHIMSICAL PIMP by Maria Lopez

When i see him in the morning

Reminds me of an old song,
Sinatra and gipsy kings
And motown
And rock n’ roll.

Strange mixture of a man
I could call him retro freak,
With his broad wing hat
And red shoes,
Off he goes with his rythm stick.

You should see him
Through my eyes…

My neighbourhood is soo boring,
So bloody traditional,
so mass sunday mornings,
So gossip and hypocritical,
So old ladies with their trolleys
And their god blessed doggies.

That im so grateful for his colours,
His raven black hair,
At 70 something
His tight jeans, his big head.

Every morning
As I pass by,
He will sing me a tune
Mixture of flamenco and jazz.
… and he doesnt know it
But he paints me a smile.
For when i am old
As old as this woman will be,
I want to be outrageous

Just like the whimsical pimp.

 

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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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