Tag: read poetry

Read Poetry: Midnight poetry, Chisala Kataya

Tonight, I write about poetry.

Poetry that we made together at night.

That night you undressed, your pleasures now naked and I did stare, not at the geometry that is your curves. That math that fucks up my mind.
Before I left fucks inside.
Before I gave enough fucks to know you, and not in the sexual kind. Though that is to be expected of course, but I mean the rest.
And by the rest I mean her,
like that goldfish swimming in her bowl, freely not caring about whose eyes were watching.
But mine, right then, taking in her definition that is woman.
She’s well defined.
Like those panty lines I contemplated which side to push, before she pushed me away, before she let some body else in.
But me.
My other head was throbbing to the idea of being inside.
The words eating at my flesh like mosquitos in the night, in  spite of this I told no lies.
But only that I would leave her essence satisfied.

I came on her thighs.
My seed on her thighs.
Again not sexual.
Because those seeds were my cries, tears shed because she’d told me about her broken life. And of course she’d have tried to fix it with sex and kisses.
But that tingle I felt that night was about that first time I met her, in that corner of that bar. Self concious about her weight.
She’s a medium now.
But she told me about her friends, that said she’d never out weigh her grades, because she already out weighed the crowds.

Out weighed the crowds.

Out weighed their crowns.

Her highness seated on her thrown.
That is I faced her head on, like a kid she loved her shapes said she wanted another round so she could chase away those ghosts. Ghosts that made her taste sounds,

“You’re ugly,”

“You’re fat.”

Shes asleep right now,
her breathing poetic, it’s like the crickets hear her sing.

She’s free.

19/09/17✅
http://chisalamypoems.blogspot.com/2017/09/midnight-poetry.html

 

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Read Poetry: IN A ROOM (no love, only lust), by Prince Kutch

In the night I see no light,

When it starts I never stop.

Like a fight of no turning back

When you were mine I’ll lose your mind.

 

Take me to a heavenly desire

Bring me to an addictive drive.

An imagery of flesh and lust

Sinking in an spiritless love

 

My eyes were veiled by beautification

My ears were covered by pleasing sounds

My body is paralyzed like a “Man I Kin”.

My heart is confused between love and lust.

 

Dear Eve why you took the fruit of ecstasy

Dear Adam why you ate the fruit of temptation

Dear satan what had you done

Dear Me what you’ll gonna do.

 

In the world where lying is normal

In the age where Pornography is a ritual

In a life where heart is just a pumping machine

In a room where there’s no Love only Lust.

 

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Read Poetry: FEAR OF THE UNKNOWNS, by Gibson Kuria Chege

Uncertainty is crowding my mind,
Like clouds heavy with rain
With conflicting thoughts crushing my brain,
Leaving waves of doubts behind,
Am afraid am losing the war to the fear
The fear of the unknowns

My mind is under siege
With winds of doubts cruising to and fro
Causing blurred visions and swiping out
dreams
I have no peace of mind the nightmares have
taken root
Too many decisions to make
Very little time, they are argent
My mind has become a double agent
Torn between the Do’s and the Don’t s
Doubts casting brain incisions
Haunted by a lonely feeble but persistent
voice
A voice that has only one question… “What
if?”
I’m Running out of time , yet am lacking
precision
An Old friend is back in town
He wants us to meet and catch up
I know we need to catch up for old time’s
sake
But, What if…?
What if this ain’t a coincidence?
What if he is changed to wrong?
There is a new girl next door
She is beautiful
i know i like her
And i think she likes me too
I can tell from the way she looks at me
Especially when am working out
I should ask her out instead of staying
indoors time in time out
But…What if?
What if my feelings for her are not
profound?
What if its just another infatuation??
What if it will end up as another fring??
Am tired after work
The sun is setting on the horizon
It’s a nice sight by the shore
I should take a walk by the sea as i enjoy the
the breeze to help me unwind
But …What if?
What if the wind blows too strong
Too strong for the  banks to hold and water
comes running ashore and carries me whole???
What if…?What if…?What if…Am just
swimming in
fears of the unknown???
What If????!!!

 

 

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Read Poetry: When You was in the World, by Linda Hay-Gibbs

When you was in the world My heart beat a little faster My song was more in tune

When you left it there was disaster

And I know I will leave it soon But Will I find You again I want to make amends You were my adventure My greatest love

My Fire  My Pure from above I knew You were meant for me But Frankly You scared me silly and I did have pause If not the Greatest cause To run and I did! I ran far and wide I tried to forget! I lied but In my mind and heart you steadfastly remained Like a blood stain you can’t bleach away that pain A crater on Mars that will last till end of days It’s remarkable to me that so much pain and misery also draws such excitement and longing Such wishes and even if wrong it was good There was something given from above A rich long lasting thundering love but It was for naught because the pain was so intense no matter what was meant what was earth shattering was horror gathering caught between heaven and hell a clear hesitant bell to say run Run RUN and I did being the coward I am I couldn’t wouldn’t stand my ground because you swept it out from under me and I drowned in your excellency but burned in the pain of our destiny I called I asked forgiveness Told you I always did and always would have This heaviness My heart rolls around and from time to time remembers the white hot excellent love but quickly dims like a shooting star shot above It’s pain that replaces the exquisite It’s the pain I can’t resist The fear and betrayal of all My world turned upside down My scratching and clinging to sanity when all was calamity intermixed with you so I the fool just loved you for fifty years and remember thru all my misery and tears and try to think on the good like all proper people should and unglued the bad that we had but now You are gone And I know For the emptiness is low and so remember When you was in the world and my heart curdled and curled around your being and I hope one day to seeing you One more time Then I remember You were mine before anyone else but now theres nothing and the world is never kind even if I was blind Take that part of me with you I miss it but I’ve grown used to a partial heart it’s never mended just kept on beating without it being whole it’s all I know.

 

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Read Poetry: The Lady in Purple, by Kat Fankhauser

 

People watch other people.
They look to see if they have any defects,
if they do,
the watching person,
judges them without saying ‘Hello’
They go home and make up stories about,
“The lady wearing purple today.
Was drunk and drugged
she couldn’t walk straight,
kept falling over,
just like a drunken, druggie
homeless guy.”
Misinformation posted to Facebook,
or Twitter and  so many other social media sites.
Spreads this story, sharing to their friends,
who share it with their friends, who
share it with their friends.
Strangers believing the story,
about the lady in purple.
Judging her,
without knowing the truth,
without knowing her or even her name.
There is nothing wrong with sharing posts,
but it’s wrong to pass on gossip.
Because that’s all it is
Gossip.
This lady in purple,
may not be a drunk or druggie,
she may just have a balancing problem.
Or an illness that makes her wonky,
forgetful, strange or different.
I’m not saying don’t share stories,
I am saying don’t pass along
Misinformation.
Judging a person just from a glance
then making up a story
Is not right.
We want to stop youth and others
from committing suicide or
harming themselves.
We need to stop judging
We need to stop posting lies.
We need to stop staring.
We need to stop misinformation!
Kat Fankhauser-Taylor © 2017

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Read Poetry: Spread Your Wings, by Lana Rafaela Cindric

Genre: LIFE

Let me tell you something:
No one is going to look at you, broken and shattered ​
and think -​
Damn, you are beautiful.
No one is going to come pick up your broken pieces ​
off the floor ​
and assemble them into a beautiful whole.
Hell,​
even you won’t look at yourself and think – ​
I made broken look beautiful.
You know why?
Because all those writers lied to you.
Yes,​
all those with their poems of scraped knuckles and ​
blood dripping down chins,​
pomegranate songs and loves that ripped through you ​
like hurricanes.
Liars.
So you and I,​
we are going to make a plan.
You are not going to romanticize days when your ​
brain tells you to smash that mirror,​
you are not going to romanticize the lover who ​
doesn’t understand you ​
but still writes about you.
Here is what you are going to romanticize instead:
You are going to romanticize the first day of spring,​
its gentle hands all over your body,​
lifting you up until you are as light as a feather.
You are going to romanticize the tea and honey kind of love,​
no hurricanes,​
but sunshine that builds you up from within, ​
that helps you make it through the worst days.
You are going to romanticize the gentle hands of a friend​
in yours,​
telling you that it is going to be okay.​
because it is.
And don’t trust poets,​
we’re no good,​
we love pretending that our jagged edges tantamount ​
to a beautiful disaster, ​

but in reality – there ain’t nothing beautiful ​
about shaky hands holding a cigarette and​
empty eyes staring at the cracks in the walls.
You know what is beautiful, instead?
The days when you can look at yourself in the mirror and smile,​
scars and all.
Music that makes your soul flow like a river,​
books that offer comfort,​
families flocking together like overgrown birds to keep you safe and warm,​
friends that give you strength when you can find none,​
lovers who make you laugh through tears.
Baby, ​
from now on​
you are going to romanticize healing;
honey dripping down your fingertips,​
August nights that stick to your skin,​
the day you find your purpose,​
long car rides and singing so loud that no one can shut you up now.
Bad news:​
no one is coming to save you.
Good news:​
you can save yourself.

 

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Read Poetry: Escape, by Farzleen F. Khan

She escaped
The dreadful dread
Broke free from
The clutches
Waiting to hold her
Captive deep
Behind locked gates
Wrathed by a fury
She escaped
She escaped
The feeling of
Having walked
A familiar street
Hassled by hustles
Bogged down
By the boredom
Of having flashing
Camera strobes
Delude her mind
She escaped
She escaped
The crazy act
Of sensationalizing
Everything from
Her morning jogs
To her dragging her
Feet after sips
On the rocks
She escaped
She escaped
The tabloid scenes
The torrid trash talk
The humiliating torment
The badmouthing imprints
The reality that sets her apart
The glam, glit and glory
She escaped
The foundation of her sanity

 

 

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Read Poetry: Fake News, by Vikky Lonie

I’ve decided to stop reading the news
It’s full of contradiction and misinterpreted views,
Bending of truths like a novelists muse
Inciting inspiration, stimulation, radicalisation but never the truth of the situation
Just a public announcement of the wrong account, a miscommunication or fake revelation
Is it an attempt at entertainment?
Lacking empathy, a cold report with no sympathy
Of death, disaster and misery
Attacking humanity
As they relish at the world flying in to abyss
I can’t be alone, wishing we would all hug and kiss
So, instead I’ve turned to poetry, where theres no need to encourage, provoke or lie
For words of poem can reach the sky, you cant deny
My interpretation is all I need to see
Where thoughts can wander, minds can ponder
I never need to wonder, if what’s written is fact or fiction
As a poet spilling his heart on paper, writing fast, creating friction
He goes to war with every etching
Of love and emotion of pain of gain
It’s truer than the mirror in which you see your face
It reads like silk and flows like lace
Spilling over with generosity, leaving a genuine taste
Whether of love or hate, faith or sin
It’s come from within where only truth can win

 

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Read Poetry: BIRDS FROM THE EAST BY SHARON MO SH

GENRE – ANIMAL LIFE

Birds from the east
Each one a hankery miniature beast
Friends I made by the fields
Everyday I toil until I sweat
But not the feathered chaps of the sky
They are birds from the east
All they do is fly
If not lie in their nests
Waiting patiently by the east coast
Praying for my head to turn west
Look at those black eyes
Getting darker with hanker
Birds from the east
Preying on my crops
All chattering in cabal
They eat their hearts out
Will I turn?
Will I alter my bearing?
What good will it bring
Leaving my paragon for the beast?
I will just wait until the sun set
They are birds from the east
They sleep by the night

 

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