Tag: read poetry

Read Poetry: New Old Friends, by Deborah J. Johnson

Genre: Friendship

“New Old Friends”

5 years ago last night my best friend had an aneurysm in her lung and passed away at 61. You just can’t go out and meet OLD Friends.This is the one sentence I keep telling people that don’t understand why it is still so hard…You can’t meet someone and have them know all your secrets, or have laughed til you can’t hold it anymore… or be there at each others weddings. The kind of friend in serious situations you cannot look at or you’ll both burst out laughing because you know what they are thinking…You are blessed if you have an OLD FRIEND still in your life. Let them know you love them before it’s too late.

OLD FRIENDS

Going to high school and meeting there,

The first of many memories that we would share.

Going to different colleges we drifted apart

Our jobs brought us home our adult lives to start.

We both became teachers for the love of a child,

God touched both our hearts and smiled.

We talked of our classes,the hurts and joys they brought

Learning together to balance discipline and love as we ought.

We shared in the joys and frustrations of life.

With husbands and children, loves and strife.

Our hearts so close like the pages of a book,

We knew what the other thought with just a look.

In serious situations we didn’t dare take a peak

Or we’d bust out laughing without having to speak.

Going on vacations many memories were made

Laughing so hard, those memories would never fade.

Sitting with you all day, the day you were ill

Sharing memories and laughing until we were filled

With a lifetime of love between two OLD FRIENDS.

How were we to know it was the end.?

Hold those you love close to your heart until the end

For it’s certain in life you cannot make New Old Friends.

—
Deborah J. Johnson
author of:
Sunrise, Sunset-Recipes Through Four Generations”

“For Just five Minutes-Heaven, YES-Hell.NO”

Read Poetry: They Were Told, by Colin Ward

They were told they’d troop with honour
to defend our nation’s grace;
how fortitude would be enough
to save the human race.

They were trained to fight with courage
being free would fuel their fire,
justify the loss of souls
with peace upon the pyre.

They were led to death with orders,
belief in righteous cries
to qualify the stolen truths
which bleed through tearful eyes.

 

 

Colin Ward

from “Ripples”

©2018

 

 

Read Poetry: (I have searched…), by Mariam Tsiklauri

Translated from Georgian into English by Manana Matiashvili 

 

I have searched everything everywhere:

The sun is here, the earth is here, the winds are blowing…

All the words,

All the ideas are present,

All images, masks and toys we used,

All bits of bread that were eaten

Or thrown to birds;

All the trees under the shadows of which

Our rocking cradles stood;

All the voices we heard in songs

And in frightening spells at night…

Here are all the saints in the names of which

For safety we were wrapped.

But so many things are still missing –

Including original copies of our selves,

And grass of immortality,

And bread of life,

And fear of God,

And laws of heart,

And the ways to unseen houses too, –

Seems intercellular space has expired

From the entire body of universe…

Everything exists for its own sake,

Not for others, 

Not for one beloved…

Even time has expired …

Maybe somebody has taken it?

Somebody has stolen?

Maybe I am mistaken, 

Not remember correctly if we had it at all…

Seems I have dreamt,

Seems I wished so much

That it was fixed in my mind

As if I had…

Maybe I have kept the white flowers of great moments

Somewhere in an old book 

In order to remember later about eternity…

Oh, my God, 

Haven’t you kept our original copies?

Wish you had saved and kept us all…

 

 

Genres: life, sad, personality

 

 

 

 

Read Poetry: The Forty Second parallel, by Robert Meskhi

I’ll go into exile
And I’ll say,
That my homeland
Looks like a rubber fish –
looks like a toy –
from where air has been pumped out With pistons,
Then fins cut around
With a blunt knife,
Tearing up gills,
And again they
Threw it back into the beach
It’s mouth toward the north wind.

 

A circle, sir!
the Forty Second parallel too, is
A noose, sir!
You put your heart into it and …
It strangles you.

 

 

 

Robert Meskhi

Tbilisi, Georgia

Read Poetry: Thank God for Pearl!, by Dennis De Rose

I went to church when I was five,

Sunday school, never missed it.

I looked over; who did I see?

Well, of course, I saw Pearl, teaching.

Time went by and I got older,

I graduated to the “big church”.

I looked over, I sat on the left.

Who was on the right, Pearl.

Once a month, every month,

Usually the first Sunday… Food`s aplenty.

Go downstairs to eat, who`s there?

Pearl, with bowl in hand, always smiling.

Time goes by, I’m married now.

It’s Sunday. Church again.

I look to the right, across the aisle,

and who`s there? Right again. Pearl…

1999, it’s a very sad Sunday in church.

My Gramzer, up front lying in a casket.

I stood up, turned around, I said a few words.

Who do I see? Pearl, handkerchief in hand.

It`s Sunday, Church, Choir time.

I walk up front and once again,

Looking behind me, I see…

Pearl, ready to sing for Jesus.

Time goes by; my whole family is with me.

We’re on the left, as usual.

It’s been 55 years since that first Sunday.

I look over. Who do I see? Pearl.

Pearl, I thank God for you…

Read Poetry: Super Geezers, by Bob Grant

Super Geezers – Just some Teasers
Civilities rambunctious Sneezers.
Belch at any Time of Day,
no Concerns of What they Say

Have no Time for Politics,
Pick their Noses just for Kicks.
Speak their Minds without a Care,
take a Nap most Anywhere.

Cranky if They want to Be,
Dirty Jokes and Laugh with Glee.
Dot to Dot on their Age Spots,
Hide their Trash in Flower Pots.

Reminisce ‘bout Fond years Past,
answer Questions never Asked.
Complain about the Younger Age,
Read a Book to Feel the Page.

Thumb through Photos in their Hand,
Skip their Meals if they’re Bland.
Talk about their Aches and Pains,
to Heck with Staying in their Lanes.

Super Geezers have the Power,
Certainly their Place and Hour.
what Remains is Up to You,
Do just what You want to Do.

Genre: Aging, Senior Citizens, Seniors, Geezers, Life, Death, Relationships, Society, Senior Centers, Retirement, Independent Living, Assisted Living, Medicare, Old, 65 and Older, Social Security.

Read Poetry: PARENTAL LAMENT, by Mike Reed

My boy is sleeping safe in bed
Without a tumour in his head.

No hepatitis, septicaemia,
No lymphoma, no leukaemia.

His heart is strong, his breathing sure.
The marrow in his bones is pure.

No ADD, MS, ME,
CF, MD or HIV.

We drove him safely to his school,
And back again. He swam the pool

Untroubled, laughing, loving it.
No seizure, stroke or fatal fit.

No aircraft engine yet has failed.
No train come lethally derailed.

He moves from trampoline to tree
To bicycle, to skate and ski,

Unharmed, unruffled, innocent.
No injury. No accident.

He sleeps. We sleep. Another day
Is passed in ease. We made more hay.

No horror here, no sudden shark.
No plunge into the depthless dark.

No slip from sunshine into sorrow.
But there’s always tomorrow. Always tomorrow.

Read Poetry: the Tunnel Performance Society!, by Bob Eager

Old Vision : “This is What It Is”
Just a space for bikes to pass through ;
Next to the Underpass cars passing by it seemingly bland and irrelevent,
Practical place but inconscpicous.
Darkly lit at night families ride bikes through it in the day and others pass through it at night.

New Vision : “This is What It Could Be”
Seen through a new lens this place becomes a Unique experience;
Darkly lit ambience becomes something else entirely,
Not an afterthought in a coffee shop or poorly planned night with chairs turned
in the wrong direction. Creation of an open “UN” Mic!
Party for Creative’s….
Express ourselves however we choose poem, dance or song.

In the tunnel, we own the event. It is all about the art not a forethought or afterthought but the only complete thought needed.

Join Our Movement

——–

The Ringmaster Bob Eager invites you to join a new innovative performance idea. As artists shouldn’t we challenge the conventional thought of where a performance should. Join us in challenging the boundaries of what we call an artistic space.
Bob’s work appears also in Stray Branch, The New Beatnik, Oddball Magazine, Indiana Voice Journal and Tuck Magazine.

Read Poetry: Still, She Rises, by Deepika Janiyani

She often has a fear, hidden in her heart,
But still, she rises and tries to conquer the world…

She might show like, everything is under her control,
But deep inside she strives for love…

She smiles like a lamp, but there is darkness insider her heart,
But still, she rises and smiles for her world…

She might be broken inside,
But she will show everyone, she is absolutely fine…

She has a lot of unfulfilled dreams inside her heart,
But still, she rises to fulfil the dreams of others, in her world…

She often gets hurt, by her near and dear ones,
But still, she rises and fixes, their broken hearts…

Read Poetry: LEAVE ME WHOLE MOTHER, by Pat Ashinze

leave me whole, mother.
let my body sing pristine symphonies,
like seraphs praising the Holiest High.
let my shell be coloured in glazing spectra,
like the eonian beauties of space
let my thighs bleed for the will of nature 
and not for the sick myths of men.

 

leave me whole, dear mother!
for i remember the yells and screams. 
i remember the gagged pains of my sisters.
i remember how they succumbed in naivety.  
i remember the blood: fresh and fleshy.
i remember how they described the knife
that the elders used in ‘purifying’ them.
i remember how you marred portals
with diseases and superstitions. 

 

leave me whole, i plead and pray.
let my spirit pray for you in mirth.
let me enjoy the loving presence of man.
let me feel him flaming as he fills me.
let my passion flow in his motion.
do not let them make me one-eyed –
a girl with a mutilated honeycomb;
a woman with half-demised tentacles;
a fire with no heat and no smoke;
…a Saturn without rings!

 

 

Written by: 

Pat Ashinze.