Tag: read poetry

Read Poem: She is there, by Laraine Batis-Gelpi

Arms stretched high, sun-tanned & freckled skin, a crown of coils – all warmth & life..
Arms stretched high, face to the sky
bright shining eyes – deep inside
She is there.

Stay there, I am busy with these waves, this wind, this storm ..

Crown of coils blown round my face
Weary rowing,
my back to the bow- lurched & pitched as I struggle to row..
Seeing only the trail where I’ve been

The outposts of each challenge stretched behind me like a worn and tattered hair ribbon kept from childhood that I beseech myself to find a use for… lest I let it go

Turn to the bow now, turn to the bow!!
Change your direction, just for today give leave for me to row for you ..watch where we are going.

I am here
Arms stretched high, sun-tanned & freckled skin, a crown of coils – all warmth & life..
Arms stretched high, face to the sky
bright shining eyes – deep inside
I am here.”

@soulpoetree

Read Poem: # A season of You, by _Inkling Ink

Like a summer blaze,
You have inflamed,
The humming heart,
Like a soothing rain,
You have soaked into,
The thunderous soul,
Like a freezing winter,
You have shaken,
A burning fire,
In January sigh,
And when I have shed,
Tears of gold,
In an autumn sage,
Amid the new dawn of hope,
In the colour of spring,
I have already lived a season of you.

Read Poem: Drama, by Coco Kiju

Feelings, desires, emotions
We say it’s what drives us.
But we’re only looking for reasons
to justify the obvious.

We have long since been stone cold
feeding only our selfishness.
We play with whatever cards we hold.
Hit on target. Yet pretend to miss.

Working only for your own needs.
Kindness you show is a facade.
Writing only what they want to read.
Even god himself is a fraud.

But your truth is only your opinion.
We put our faith in karma.
No matter what, the show goes on.
So we carry on the drama.

Read Poem: Rattles and the Rust, by Kartik Prajapat

I endlessly search my flesh and bone
what undernourishment has it gone?

How come they speak of me being shy?
when my days actually passes high and dry.

Some ask me to hope while some to have desire,
struggling is my heart, it is set on fire.

The hands that nurtured me promptly degrades
and her blessings are left as the only trace.

Might be the rust she was bestowed
here I corrode against all her hopes.

This goes till then I was five
Alike the present full of strife.

She kept screaming ‘Help O’ help!’
I was alerted & going to yelp.

He throttled me in a fit of rage
”Damn it you bastard! You shall also die in a cage”

I moved forth and tried to stop,
but my hands were barred by him, from the top.

“Stop here for my pity sake”
he added – Let her char O’ bloody snake!

You are vigilant and letting her die
Applauds to you, bidding her goodbyes.

You went up in the flames, burning so high
O’ count me the reasons, Mumma! what & why?

“Keep blazing O’, dear son
You are my residue, the charcoal unburned.”

Arid feels my heart, the dry leaves crinkle
blow me up with you, I’m ready to mingle.

I switch off the lights, what is sleep?
where’s gone that lap, I used to weep?

Nights are drearier than ever before
I often search for me in my core.

Your wailing reverberates up to now
I turned 23, I still wonder when and how?

Every time I breathe in my soggy lungs
a rattle of your presence fills me with the spunk.

Here I stand as your only fraction,
inbuilt into dynamite give me some friction.

You made me invincible, the heat is on
If only you were here, what wasn’t that I own?

―Kartik Prajapat

Read Poem: Of times, Melisa Keelanna Griffith

Times and times again
Bypasses the distance of my mise
Kaleidscopes of precious moments
Brings to life the real In meh total scope
Forever inundated be meh fe totalic replace
Reminiscing on the remembrance meh faded face
Phased an thinking of the measure within these times
Calling to know whom I was before
Transitting on this mindscape
I redundant the child
Was ever me was ever free
Too, much is due to the pleasant lessons in my negated rear view
Passing times measured by distance as I count the miles on the mileage speed; upon meh back as I walk entrance into the future
I sound the full hands width purposed within the stockhold; the baggage of memories
Cremiced I place it upon the table of trust to know in this essence of lust what befolds the resistance to know
To gauge its measure and point it to the zenith my realizing that time and times again exist
For to peel away at this old age sin forever would my hope foretold the wisdom untold
And if ever it be to my reality I must know the measure of my sins
To brigade within the lush waters of force to carry on trodding this course
To my eye view pinpoint the realness in me is to know
So I talk within the vocal stories, the forlore within
In pleasant reminiscing ii foretold the vessel that
would carry me on to times and times again.

Read Poetry: Desert Lamentations II, by David Oscarson

I would rather spend time on this desert landscape watching the clouds roll by overhead than try to understand the roots of society spread out all over the earth.
With all the distractions of modern society we are losing sight of meaningful lifelong satisfactions and good conversation.
There seems to be a select few who are attempting to influence our lives with the assistance of technology while leading us down pathways with unknown or unfavorable consequences.
They are not keepers of the flock, but merely interlopers who are gaining unwanted influences over our lives through their covert actions.
Will these select few lead us into dark places from which there is no return, and is it too late to turn back from the courses many of us have taken?
It is up to us to determine where this digital future is heading, and take appropriate action.

Website: http://www.djoart.com

POETRY READING: Passing, by Paul O’Donnell

Performed by Allison Kampf

Passing, by Paul O’Donnell

So much is broken
I despair
he says passing out from lack of air
It was no more than a passing dream to think
the passing of a law could mean passing through the past
The inciting incident, the protagonist’s resolve to repair
ignorance fear and anger living side by side in liminal space stretched.
Searching for the prophylactic fountain to wash away despair
Farfetched
But passing laws passed through the fragile membrane made of the
dreams of gilded fossils giving
no more than a passing glance
with few words passing between them.
How could it not be broken?
Only the words Black Lives Matter, matter
No forgiveness can be asked. Forgiving is an act of power bestowed
granted by the weak with feelings of remorse
Atone is at and one
there the difference lies.

POETRY READING: Gritty, dangerous doll, by Kirsten Warner

Performed by Allison Kampf

Gritty, dangerous doll, by Kirsten Warner

I forage for her, the doll of my disappointment

a spray of brittle twigs
a faggot of fallen fronds
crusty sticks with lesions of lichen

crouched over, calling up my ancient sister.

Then it is only a matter of seeing and she takes shape.

A forked branch and spindly legs start running,
over-wide arm-span
shock of invisible fingers
guts hanging out
circulation unspooled
half a skirt of flax flowers,
all bundled together
leaving a strong stick where her head will go.

Overnight she stands sentinel,
my doll of disappointment,
through my sleepless 4 AM and discarded novels.
My insides agitate like giant kelp in a blowhole.
Somewhere a strange crying
but each time I get up the whimpering stops.

In the morning the pillow is wet.
I’m flimsy yet my ache weighs heavy on the bathroom scales.
I count my losses in the vanity’s distorting mirror.
It feels like something died. Like I never had a chance.

I craft her head from crumpled cellophane
and glinting, spooky transparency,
attach a savage halo
consider lengths of yarn the violent red of secobarbital
but she’s done. I nurse the day

while she fossicks in the underneaths
grubbing out contagion,
cursing humbug and sideshow
drowning out the comfort of friends
muttering spells to turn my gaze away
daubing herself with horse manure
full of grass seed that will eventually sprout green.

POETRY READING: Black Night Sky, by Paula Shaffer

Performed by Allison Kampf

black night sky {genre: fear}
paula shaffer

there is a fear my son will die today
because his skin is black as night

black night sky

that darker fear that whites so dread;
how dare my son dare to breathe,
dare to live

reach for the sky

play by the rules so self-confined;
the “talk” is clear as constant rain,
that reminder of fear each time you leave
your brown skin marked as sin

auto-rejected from the day of birth
your dark skin the color of Earth

i grieve for you with constant fear,
i cry for you when you leave,
i apologize for those ugly clouds
that rue your day, existence’s theme

racism so deep, it never bends
its darkness cast because of skin

i grieve for sons who won’t come home,
laid to rest in a pit of degrade

civil unrest because of skin
unleashes fear you won’t obey

and one more black boy dies today

his last words: i can’t breathe