Do we not wail with one voice all.
lost in the many mangled bones,
where faces no longer smile, nor
souls laugh. Hurled in one blast
of exploding energy, tossed into
death. Are we not those too?
Humanity has met the inhuman evil
in bombs, bullets sprayed, beheading,
emasculation, rape.
Tag: read poetry
Read Poem: ALMOST HOMELESS, by Perry Terrell
The government is listening to my phone calls
Well, darn
I sincerely hope so
They will hear that I am not making enough money
And I am one paycheck away from homelessness
The cost of living is just plain too high
And that I am barely living
The government is reading my e-mails
Well, darn
I sincerely hope so
They will read a message to my friend
That I couldn’t afford to buy food this pay period
Because the rent, electric, water and phone bills were due
I managed to pay all of the rent
But only half on the electric, water and phone
I am being careful
Trying to stay safe
And be a good employee
So I can earn another paycheck
That doesn’t cover all my needs
Where I can’t buy a piece of chicken
To go along with my one can of peas and one can of corn
Which has to last me for two meals
The government is listening to my phone calls and reading my e-mail
Well, darn
I sincerely hope so
But what will the government do when my phone line is cut off
Which will happen when I need to buy medicine for a cold or a headache
Or someone at the phone company realizes that half a payment is not good enough
And the water and electric company? Oh well.
What will the government know about me then
That I have become another number on their statistical data chart
If I can’t eat healthy, take a bath and see how to read a book at night
In other words,
Cease to live a normal life
Why keep a roof over my head
And have the government knocking on my door
Read Poem: HAPPY POEM, by Bluebell Rizzi
They told me to write a happy poem
Said that my writing makes me sad
And everyone who reads it will feel blue
They told me to write a happy poem
I said, “I do not wish to lie!”
Fake it till you make it, they told me
So should I live a lie?
My poetry is the only thing I have
That is for me; and only me
It wraps me up in a warm hug
Kisses my head
Shows me the light
My sad poems do not mean I am miserable
It’s just that when I’m happy
I lack the words to describe it
They told me to write a happy poem
So they could be happy
But all I could say was:
“I do not wish to lie.”
~ Bluebell Rizzi
Read Poem: An Enchanted Tale, by Crouching Dragon
The daffodils are blooming, their scent it fills the air, the bees are busy buzzing around, the sound is a fanfare.
The dragonflies are darting, dynamic blue and green, all across this part of earth it truly sets a scene.
I gaze towards the woodland, a sight that’s to behold, amazing carpets of purpley blue, cover every mound and fold.
The bluebells are amazing, imagine their delicate ring, the fairies are rejoicing, and I can hear them sing.
Somewhere in the distance, I can vaguely hear, the chuckling of children, and then….walks by a deer.
It’s time for procreation, for animals around, the birds are flirtily singing, oh what a heavenly sound.
I move on to the ocean with sun rays shining down, it looks as if a thousand stars, last night had fallen down.
The children I did mention, but a short time before, are innocently blowing bubbles, on a rock beside the shore.
I see some feisty mermaids, on the horizon in a haze, but what I witness next, puts me into a daze.
Half a dozen bubbles float across my path, and from one of these bubbles, I’m sure I heard a laugh.
And then right there before me, just like a crystal ball, a bubble popped quite suddenly, and out from it did fall.
Two rainbow fairies who then, spread their fairy wings, as they flew back quite flighty, to toadstool fairy rings.
Oh Nature’s so amazing, if you just open your eyes, from unicorns and dragons, to castles in the skies.
With open heart, you can see all this, just lighten up and look, it’s oh so real, not fairytales that you read in a book.
blog is aviewintomyuniverse.wordpress.com
Genres: fairytale, spirituality, nature, hope, happiness
Read Poem: Concho-Pharmacology, by Mara Katcher
where are my pearls
that leave a powder behind?
they come in a plastic clam
with seven opening chambers,
I wash them back with a tide of tap water,
so they settle inside my stomach and make me into
a cushiony clam myself
with tablet pearls within
until they dissolve in me
like sand in the ocean.
Read Poem: Journeys of Mortals, by Toyin Sebastien Ajimati
We are born eventually knowing that we will die,
Yet that reality brings fear, faith, infatuation and a mystic that is unmatched in our existence,
From scriptures to sacrifice we are godless to what is to some a God requirement of this universe,
Some try to reverse and stop the inevitable,
By shaping themselves with man made plastics and superficial substances or some try by nourishing
themselves with fruits and vegetables,
Each to his own on this journey of mortal life,
That has demonstrated the best and worst in humanity day and night,
Each breath we all take is our possible last,
No matter how much wealth and domination one has he or she cannot bribe or escape the mortal
hourglass,
At times it seems we take that for granted and do not reflect on others we have witnessed pass,
For they have and continue to remind us that we are not greater than this magnificent earth & universe
that surrounds us,
Because simply we are just precious pieces to something greater that we cannot conquer , outlast or
outclass.
Read Poetry: War Cry, by Megan OKeeffe
Don’t open my door if you aren’t going to close it when you leave
Are you listening to me?
I deserve respect no matter my size or shape, just like everyone else
I am not some object to conquer or kill
Are you listening to me?
The Taliban cannot just board my dusty school bus and fire three shots at me
I am not some object to conquer or kill
You, with your rough whiskers, must face the consequences of what you take
The Taliban cannot just board my dusty school bus and fire three shots at me
You are right to fear that I may know too much, that education is serving me right
You, with your rough whiskers, must face the consequences of what you take
I am learning that a woman is worth more than just how much she can please a man
You are right to fear that I may know too much, that education is serving me right
Do your worst, I will still be standing against you at the end of each day
I am learning that a woman is worth more than just how much she can please a man
My name is Malala, your bullets will not silence me
Do your worst, I will still be standing against you at the end of each day
I deserve respect no matter my size or shape, just like everyone else
My name is Malala, your bullets will not silence me
You cannot just close this door after you open it
Read Poetry: The Fall, by Lucy FitzGerald
A cloud of smoke haunted us
until an empty gale blew it away
A susurrus of dead leaves and poison dioxide
I sat silent
benchside
cess
benchside
sycophants
A ménage à trios of social decay
And while I was breathing
Death’s frozen kiss
they cradled their own disgrace
My company
a cigarette
snug between bones
I drift away
taken up by the death shroud
of mixed Autumn and cyanide
Falling
Until
something sweet
something warm
a candle in the pit
We ran to a campus cubicle
where we lined
lines on Lovecraft
Remnants blow away
with autumnal foliage
As my torments ripple
my eyes open.
Read Poetry: Found, by Iddris Nya
Good night!
I dreadfully feared this phrase.
As it reminded me dark was nigh;
All after years of hiding myself in the quicksand of sin.
Ignoring all chances of redemption and sticking to my old grave plan;
“Live, marry and die”
An experience that led me harms way.
Each night was a time to reflect,
On the pictures that came,
Along with memories that drove me insane.
I doubted every bit of myself in the dark;
Mornings were lit with pretence and all thinking;
“He’s indeed a lovely boy”
Filled with wicked pride,
Scratch opening dead scars and turning them into painful and itchy sores was my occupation;
And like the man from Uz I loved this Job.
This story seemed impossible to end;
Until a book was opened, and a pen was picked,
Writing out every piece of word is joy I can’t explain;
I was found,
By a God’s blood;
Too much of these information spoils me;
How?
These questions they ask.
Mobilising my grateful gut to speak;
There’s a certain man,
He came from heaven’s door,
His glorious apparel and being the world couldn’t take,
So they made for him a house with two crossed woods,
They said, “we’ve ended his light”
But he shone the more;
As this man was God’s own son.
Viewing from afar I was called unto an impactful association;
Under the shed of his blood,
Gradually my nightmare turned into history,
My recurring days revealed his glory,
Like the stars in the sky, he unmasked my sadly expressions,
Anointing my head with gladness,
My lips now taste sweet as wine.
I am found,
Ever dwelling in the beauty of his presence,
He changed me from being just an image,
to being his ever lasting essence,
My King, I became
My story, I rewrote.
My place, I found
And in him, my head is crowned.
By: Iddris Nyande
Read Poem: TEARS, by Pallavi Deepchand
Walking through the rain,
I try to forget the pain.
I try to ignore the sting in my eyes,
because I know a strong girl never cries.
I begin to run, run from my fears.
But I am followed by my ever-present tears.
I want to leave these familiar places,
leave behind all of these frequent faces.
But where will I go?
What will I do?
All I know am I had to get far away from you.
But something keeps me here,
crying one last tear.
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