Read Poetry: Writer’s Life, by Eirini Antoniou

 
 
It was a sad and cloudless morning 
I took my pen out of my kit  
And put a feather in my head 
Did I really think it would help me to write best? 
 
I ate an apple and drunk some tea 
but the ideas were still not pouring out of me. 
I started crying from despair  
then I went to the fridge to eat a pear. 
 
“Let’s see a movie” I told myself 
“Or read a book that would be the best!” 
I run with joy up and down  
even my spider thought: 
we have a crazy one around 
 
The evening found me in the bathtub 
thinking “that’s it, my fate as a writer it’s done”. 
I threw away my pens and pencils 
even my favorite notebook full of sketches.  
 
Two months passed and I still cry. 
I always thought I would be a writer for life. 
I walk pass the places I loved to write 
and I don’t speak with people I used to inspire. 
 
Friends have left me all alone 
and I have no one to turn to when I feel alone. 
They say “you act like your best friend died” 
which is true my writing has gone out of sight! 
 
Searching and searching I sat by the sea 
I closed my eyes and my mind was full of dreams. 
An empty page came my way  
and I started writing about my long day.  
  
 

 

 

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Read Poetry: I AM, by Eftichia Kapardeli

 

 
I’m the sun that heats up 
your frozen lips 
I am the night rain 
who hid the flowers 
Browses 
In the windswept hole 
And your wounded breasts 
I am the peace 
  
 
I’m your new one 
wings and freedom 
I’m your smile 
open intoxicating rose 
of foliage  
of your heart 
I am the rustling 
 
ΕΙΜΑΙ  
Είμαι ο Ήλιος που ζεσταίνει  
τα παγωμένα χείλη σου  
είμαι η νυχτερινή βροχή  
που κρυφά τα λουλούδια  
ξεφυλλίζει  
στο ανεμοδαρμένο ακρογιάλι  
και στα πληγωμένα σου στήθη  
είμαι η γαλήνη  
*** 
Είμαι τα καινούργια σου  
φτερά και η ελευθερία  
είμαι το χαμογελό σου  
ανοικτό μεθυστικό ρόδο  

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Read Poetry: Precious Little Girl, by Murna Safford

 “KNOW WHO YOU ARE”
PRECIOUS LITTLE GIRL

Thick, intertwined tresses flow down her narrow back side.
She entered this world with her eyes open wide.
Beauty paled only by a graceful allure.
A precious, little girl of the world yet unsure.
Eyes of ebony, skin dewy smooth like honey.
People look at her as though she were the one funny.
Although she tried hard to keep a stiff upper lip.
The cruelty she endured oftentimes made her tongue slip.
At times they would quiver, and her eyes would swell with tears.
Overcome with pain, and hurt had crippled her with fear.
She learned quickly but harshly to look the other way.
Bearing the pain of denial day after day.
Frumpy in appearance but undaunted away she goes.
Strength coming from places she doth not know.
Taking it, grasping it, at times she felt she had died.
“You can do this child!” A voice came from somewhere deep, down inside.
Although the voice that had spoken had “seemingly” since come, and gone.
She rested assured from that day that she was indeed not alone.
Then one day the voice spoken again saying “go on child you can do it.”
“I will always be with you and you will get through it.”
“Walk on my child down paths riddled with pain.”
“Hold your head high, and tolerance you will gain!”
She did, yes she did as she was told.
Something spoke to her spiritually from deep within her soul.
She found the courage to go on that day.
She shouted with God’s help “I will not be swayed!”

“I am unmovable, I am unshakeable, and I am a blessed child of God.”
“I don’t have to walk around with a pretentious façade!”
“I know I am precious, oh yes I can see!”
“That there is so much more to poor, little me!”
Sadly there were times when her faith was put relentlessly to the test.
She tried hard, damned hard to give it her best!
She was hurt inconsolably, and the pain made her sad.
For she could not grasp why people treated her so bad.
Looking past their ignorance well, was no easy task.
Her hatred for the injustices endured she tried hard to mask.
She wandered aimlessly around oftentimes with nowhere to go.
Confused, and bewildered with her head hung low.
Yet she cloaked her pain in a beautiful, but yet wary smile.
Although she was hurting, and crying inside all the while.
‘Tis not easy a burden for a child to alone bear.
Sadly when she sought solace absolutely no one was there.
Even those she held close to her still forming heart.
Pushed her away, and defiantly kept her apart.
From the very little goodness God knows she had ever known.
She remained stifled but vigilant, till the day she was grown.
She had to fend for herself despite her obvious youth.
But as fate would have it she would soon know the truth.
That there was no denying that she would never be accepted.
But worse of all those closest to her, even they too rejected.
So she held her little head high, and “said I will not let you beat me!”
“Despite all of the things that you have tried hard to cheat me!”
“I will go on unmovable, unshakable, and I will not relent!”
“Though on my destruction everyone seems hell-bent!”

One day she stood firm, and shook her little fist at the walls!
Screaming “I am unmovable, I am unshakeable” then she curled up in a ball.
She rocked back, and forth pulling her knees all the way to her chest.
Drawing her wee body close, nestling like a baby bird in a nest.
Unsure of her fledgling footing, with no wings quite yet to fly.
To soar to the heavens she would but give it a try.
Fall though she may, she would get up, and just do it again.
Even if on her very life, her escape from them should depend.
Fighting back the tears she tried hard not to cry.
Alas, when she got home that day, all she wanted was to die.
She told not a soul, not even her father, or her mother.
For she thought to herself surely there was no other.
She was too overcome, and way too embarrassed.
To share her pain, and tell of the constant harassments.
“Maybe people will accept me for me, for that is what my heart longs.”
That is the day when she realized, that she could not be more wrong!
She was pushed away again, and flagrantly disregarded.
Those who opposed her remained steadfast, and willfully hard-hearted.
So the little girl ran to her room, and dropped sobbing to her knees.
She lamented, and moaned “will someone help me please!”
I fight, and fight, and it seems to never end!
For there is absolutely no one on whom I can depend!
Her family was too preoccupied oftentimes with problems of their own.
It would have helped her in coping if more consideration was shown.
So she suppressed her feelings, keeping her them entirely to herself.
She entertained thoughts of running away, and worst of all death!
She was tired of being demeaned, forlorn, and neglected.
Always feeling sorry for herself, and completely dejected.

She knew that very day that she could take it no more!
She screamed to the heavens, and fell to the floor!
Emotions overcame her as she recollected her pain.
A torrential downpour of memories engulfed her like rain.
In prayer her hands were tightly, and firmly clasped.
Reaching into the heavens, her fingers at nothingness grasped.
The little girl, frail although quite nimble.
Body convulsed, uttering words indecipherably with a tremble.
Her tiny body bruised, her spirit fragmented, and broken.
Alone in the darkness her heart’s secrets were spoken.
To her maker in despair that night she cried out alone!
“Please dear father, please come take me home!”
She expected God’s entrance to be grandiose, and outstanding.
But how he would come really, there was no understanding.
Behold! The clouds rolled past the moon, and a little star did shine!
She mistook the light thinking that “maybe it’s her time.”
“Wow, this is not quite what I expected.”
“Why am I nervous when I should be calm, and collected?”
So she took a deep a breath; heavily sighing, and held out her hands.
“Finally dear God, someone has come who truly understands.”
She took yet, another deep breath, and waited up all night.
For she had now lost her will to live, and had given up the fight.
So she waited, and waited but for her death never did come.
She thought to herself “then where did that light come from?”
She screamed once again “I want to go home, and be with my maker!”
But the God from above chose not to come and take her.
“I hear you my child!” A voice proclaimed from above!
“I open my arms, and embrace you with love!”

Much to overcome, she broke down, and started to whine.
The voice said “hush now child, don’t you know that you are mines?”
Her eyes lit with joy, and in the moonlight softly they did glisten.
The little girl knew that she had better stop crying, and to listen.
She looked up to the voice with a melancholy sigh.
The voice said “stop sobbing my child, and wipe those tears from your eyes!”
She said “father, dear father is it the time, the time of my death?”
“Have you come for me dear father, to take me for yourself?”
She looked down at herself at her tattered, and torn clothes.
Not dressed for her heavenly sojourn she innocently supposed.
“Well, sorry that I am not much to look at as you can plainly see.”
“But please do not let it affect your decision to come, and take me.”
The Father look down, and lovingly shook his head.
“My precious, little child it is only your will that is dead.”
“I look deep, deep at a heart that is pure, loving, and true.”
“Therefore your appearance has no bearing on how I perceive you.”
“Your heart is just bursting, and full to capacity with love.”
“And someday you’ll make a perfect fit here with us up above.”
“Someday!” She screamed “this cannot be!”
“I thought you were here father to come, and take me!”
As you can imagine, this kind of confused the precious little girl.
For the Lord told her to stay, and contribute her gifts to the world!
Anger, and sadness was written undeniably all over her face!
For she no longer wanted to stay, and live in disgrace!
The little girl’s heart broke, and again she was overcome with grief.
Then she looked up at the Lord with utter disbelief!
“What gifts Lord? Of what is it do you speak?”
“Gifts are not what I need at this moment; it is comfort that I seek!”

“I am poor dear Lord, and I ask you who in this world will listen to me?”
“I have no riches father, well none that I can see.”
“Riches do not define you child nor anything you can ever own.”
“It is your prayer for imminent death, which I choose to postpone.”
“Postpone my death? I have nothing father, and my life is torn apart.”
“Maybe dear child but you still have a heart.”
“Maybe” she replied sarcastically, “but I want something real.”
“Something I can touch, and things I can feel.”
“Well now child, does not your heart feel pain as you have often said?”
“Your heart must feel something, for you certainly are not dead.”
She answered “why? I cannot tell the difference, not even if I tried.”
“My heart is shattered to pieces, and tonight my spirit died.”
“Start believing in yourself child, and stop asking why!”
“Stand up on your feet, and you hold your head high!”
“You are a joint heir of Christ, and thus entitled to all things thereof.
“All you are lacking really is just a little bit of love.”
“Often offering your love to others, and wanting just a little of it back.”
“Thus I the Lord have come to give you the things that you lack.”
“There is a reason my child why you were put on this earth.”
“Though you lost the vision from doubting your self-worth.”
“I am not a respecter of person, or position, nor to injustice am I blind.”
“And in my image little one, I created all of mankind.”
“But man deviated from my guidance and took it upon themselves.”
“Seeking power, and position in their pursuits of immense wealth.”
“In your mother’s womb I watched as you were beautifully formed.”
“In a cushion of comfort where you felt safe, and warm.”
“Know that I am the God who created the heavens and the earth.”
“Yet I was there in the room when your mother gave birth.

“Now don’t go worrying child all is not lost.”
“I emerged triumphant when I hung on the cross.”
“Though the form of the cross has changed in the eyes of man.”
“I conquered death, and now sit at my Father’s right hand.”
“You my dear I will never forsake.”
“I am here to prevent you from making a dreadful mistake.”
“You reasoned to yourself, you thought that no one cared.”
“I heard your cry, and I have answered your prayer.”
“How father? How have your answered me?”
“I want to go home with you father, why can’t you see?”
“Everyone is too busy, and they will not even notice that I am gone.”
“I spend most of my time sulking, and always alone.”
“Alone? The Lord said. No child I have always been there.”
“Your family will truly miss you, and they really do care.”
“Well, it does not really matter anymore father, I just want to go.”
The Lord looked down at her, and shook his head “NO!”
“Now this thing that you are asking, well it is quite a sorrowful task.”
“I will deny this request, and I will not do as you have asked.”
“No my child, I have not come to take you away.”
“You have work to do in the future, thus you must stay.”
“Sometimes your pain I assure you will be more than enough.”
“I promise that I will be there for you when the going gets tough.”
“No matter what it looks like, do not ever despair.”
“For I will never, ever put more on you than you are equipped to bear.”
“When all else fails child, you better believe that I never will.”
“All I ask is that you trust me, and just be still.”
“From certain pain unfortunately well, you will not be excluded.”
“So you can be a witness to others is why I will put you through it.”

“Yes, you have endured much child, at such a tender young age.”
“But the pain that you have bared has not tarnished your face.”
She said to the father “surely there has got to be better than this.”
The Lord answered “yes, and here is a glimpse of what you’ll miss.”
In the blink of an eye he gave her a view of the life she’d come to know.
Then he asked her once again “now are you sure you want to go?”
Across plains of time she saw people who’d draw strength from her pain.
It happened so quickly that she thought she was going insane.
There were children like her who lives she would profoundly touch.
Then suddenly her pain compared to theirs did not hurt nearly as much.
She saw people, and places spanning across the expanse of the sky.
Then the Lord said “come now child do you really want to die?”
She lowered her head, and she thought a moment, just a moment to herself.
Then she responded “wow, it seems that I will after all be something else.”
“I guess, well I suppose my life is not a waste.”
“I had given up hope, anguishing foolishly in haste.”
As it is written, the angels in heaven all began to clap, and rejoice!
“Praise the Lord for the child has made the right choice!”
“Halleluiah! This child will go on, and do great things in you!”
The child answered quickly “yes father, now I know what I must do!”
The little girl jumped up, and danced in place.
A jubilant smile came over her pretty, little face.
“Oh father, I am so thankful that to my pain you have put an end.”
“Oh thank you father, people will never hurt me again.”
The Lord warned “hark; now there will sometimes still be pain, and woe!”
“I have shown you things to encourage you, things that only I know!”
“Watch, and pray and keep a close eye!”
“Some of things you will go through, well now you know why.”

“Yes, the trials will come that you alone must often endure.”
“But there is one thing that you can most certainly be sure.”
“That I will never leave you nor will I ever forsake you.”
“And when your deed is done here, it is only then will I take you!”
“But for now go on, go on my precious, little child”
“Go on in my glory, and wait just a little while.”
“For in the eyesight of the Lord a thousand years is like a day”
“There is no rush as I have chosen for you to stay.”
“I will direct you my child to the things that you must do.”
“For the harvest is great, but the workers are few.”
The little girl answered “thank you father, I think I now understand!”
“I will stay as you have said, and do the best that I can.”
“There is a God who truly loves me for me.”
“Who looks far beyond what the natural eye can see.”
“How you define happiness my child, I will leave that up to you.”
“But my word is my bond, and will always be true.”
“This day I will never forget, and to other I will attest.”
“So that by sharing my story, they too may be blessed.”
A single tear rolled down her flushed, rosy cheek.
Much too overcome with joy she could no longer speak!
The Lord said “every tear you have cried, I have stored away in a jar.
“Sight unseen it may seem, I will never be far.”
The little girl both happy, and wearied, lay her head down.
The heavens closed before her without as much as a sound.
She smiled a bright smile, much brighter than the moon!
The last soft beam of light drifted quietly from her room.
Although the little girl had her eyes closed rather tight.
She managed to sneak a peek as it faded gradually from sight.

She was stunned when she heard the mantle clock chime.
For barely a minute has passed as it is with time!
The Lord was right a day like a thousand, a minute to a day.
It seemed like hours, perhaps he intended it that way.
She laid her head back down, and off to sleep she went.
For she knew that the message received was no doubt heaven sent.
She learned that her pain would be a ministering to those in need.
She learned this after the Lord planted, and watered the seed.
A seedling that was longing to be nurtured, and destined to grow.
The Lord often looks in on her, saying “would you look at my child go!”
From that day forth the little girl learned to tune her ear.
To the voice of the Lord so that she could most definitely hear.
The people that had shunned her now seek her advice.
Rather than turn them away, she instead treated them nice.
In her progressive walk of life, she learned that there are no lessons in death.
She learned this from the Lord in spite of her “woe-is-me self.”
The Lord was right about all the things she would have most certainly missed!
She looks to the heavens daily, and always blows him a kiss!
Oh Precious Little Girl, you now know who you are!
With a little urging from God, well you have made it quite far!
Though you be just a fledgling, just about ready to go it alone.
Just look to the Lord, and your path will be shown.
As for your footsteps, they will be directed over time as to the way you should go!
How will the journey end? Well that is something only God knows!

WRITTEN BY: MURNA L. SAFFORD

Read Poetry: THE OUTSIDE, by Prateek Nair

Genre: Dark, Angry, and Life

Standing in the outside looking in,
The look of innocence resonates the outer skin,
But the true being within doesn’t represent where all
the outside has been
Fond, sweet, and soft to the touch,
Seeming heavenly until the devil’s strut spawns the
truth that makes you cringe and your jaw clutch

Causing pains in the head that reaches the tip of the
hair,
Belief is absent for you do not dare believe anything
that this outer shell said
Never judge a book by its cover, that’s truth be told,
For once you assume you are opening yourself to be
stricken low with a truth that will sicken those like the
common cold
Behold!

Lies and thoughts of the mind intertwine ruining
expectations and complicating lives,
While the truth may lie inside,
Falsity of the imaginative kind,
Flutter your mind and give yo

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Read Poetry: In the Clearing, by Roxanne Rhoads

Category- Sexy/Love

Chasing butterflies I found you in the clearing
bathed in sunlight soft and sweet
Willow wisp and grass lithe
your body was the rock that grounded me
Butterflies fluttered by
as I tasted your desire
wild on the air, thick as honey
I kissed your lips to ease your need
Nature stood sentinel around us
testament to beauty, love, creation
Keeper of primordial secrets
Guard of our private playground
Butterfly kisses and tongue tickling caresses
love made blissful in sunlight glow
More than just a roll in the hay
a union of souls in dewy morning grass
You touched my soul as I held your heart
Butterfly whimsy and childish delight,
laughter and love sounds broke the silence of the wood
Bare sweat and dew drenched limbs lay tangled in sun glow
Breathless bodies eventually parted
Full of joy and love soaked energy
Drunk off passion play
Not quite ready to face a busy day
Never wanting to leave
but there was work to do
I followed the butterflies
but they always led me back to you

 

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Read Poetry: On Reflection, by Nupen Oldhand

I was raised in narrow alleys between tower-blocks of convention.

Not even the streets and avenues were for my attention.

Just those alleys, New York-like, rubbish strewn, cabbage-aired, concrete and cobbles uneven.

The whirr of air-conditioning, smell of fast-food, and the certainties of both God-fearer and heathen.

Just once in a while, bursting forth into the sunlight, wide streets and avenues intersected.

Bright lights, success, and the beautiful people attracted.

Not for me, though. I didn’t even try to stray.

Preferring my defined certainty to the risks of a better way.

I have no-one to blame for where I am. Or perhaps I do.

Does blame transcend the generations for me and for you?

How much of what we are is really what we are? Truly our own clay?

Or are we just versions constrained by circumstance and inherited DNA?

But those tower-blocks, surely they were not of my doing.

The ‘put your cutlery down between mouthfuls’ and fifteen times chewing.

The constraints of proscribed thought and the wilderness of rebellion.

Stern judgement of those who spurned convention.

A quiff, modest to the point of invisible.

Condemned by words harsh and a tone risible.

Errors examined and exposed for the world to see,

A need for blame accountable, set on the balance sheet of me.

Religion supported this threat of retribution,

Guilt and fear with an all-knowing God of attrition.

Waiting to add the columns of good and bad.

Punishing the crimes and the pleasures I never had.

So, we conform, or at least I conformed, until I could conform no longer,

Struck out at a time when weak despair made me briefly the stronger.

I enjoyed the pleasure of overcoming shame,

Of love, and joy, and disregarding blame.

But soon those cavernous alleys returned and comfort from a new ordinary prevailed,

For that was my lot before my aging body ailed.

Two cracks at the whip and a wealth of experience,

Living in the past a new deliverance.

Breaking away from parental strictures to my own choice of constraint,

I am where I am, no cause for complaint.

 

My life draws on, the days counted off

from a secret calendar that I have no sight of,

And when it is done, no more bed-making and showering,

an end to the false dawn of passed sell-by-date flowering.

Will they say, ‘he sought vainly for recognition and fame’,

Or will they look in disbelief, barely recalling my name?

Gone in a generation, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Achievements, precious few, rarely praised, often cussed.

So I reflect positively, because that’s my prerogative,

But the memory of others is more likely pejorative.

If your rightful desire is a modicum of immortality,

start now. Don’t leave it like me to imminent finality.

 

 

 

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Read Poetry: PATHS TO RESERVATIONS, by Sandra J. Hookham

Genre: Native American (historical)

 

PATHS TO RESERVATIONS

 

Many, many decades now reversed,

“We the people…” feebly put ashore

Trembling ships from seas accursed,

With tattered sails and rats galore.

 

Each drew an icy, mournful breath

For rations gone and malady to show,

Appearing doomed to certain death

In winter’s barren bungalow.

 

But then a man so strong and kind

—Standing proudly—called us brother;

And by his fire we warmly dined,

Accepting largess from another.

 

We ate his food to give us strength,

Even quaffed strong medicine for ills,

Wholly dependent through winter’s length,

And viewed the rewards that help instills.

 

But we learned no lessons I’m afraid

—From those compassionate and selfless ways—

For we did scoff and laughingly upbraid,

While plundering their sunlit turquoise days.

 

We robbed this land and pushed them out,

Stripping its resources and killing the game;

Then from booms of ridicule—a victory shout,

To hide the squander and the shame.

 

Gone by our rash and thoughtless vows

Are those massive forests of pine,

That once combed the air with richly scented boughs,

Leaving it clearly pure, vital and benign.

 

In their stead rise fallow stones

And scattered prickly ash,

Where tempest-charged winds dry out the bones

That roaring floods did smash.

 

A promise was granted to the Ojibway—

That if their tribesmen now behaved,

Upon this land they might stay

And not to reservations be enslaved.

 

Naïve and sad they trudged along:

Believing the pledges that were given;

In search of kinsmen who did us wrong,

Since once again they were being driven.

 

They have their reservations now,

Where the land is harsh and rough;

And we have ours, while heads we bow,

Listening to voices that cry, “Enough.”

 

But down through history one thing is for sure,

And like it or not we all know it is true,

That things never stay quite the same as they were—

That the earth and her children must begin life anew.

 

The pendulum of time takes a mighty swing

To right the wrongs that have been done

—To change the course of freedom’s ring—

And the backward thrust has just begun.

 

So please be patient my sovereign friends,

For there is good in every race;

You know the strongest tree is the one that bends,

And things will change by God’s good grace.

 

The white man’s greed took this land

By deceit and brutal attack;

Yet “Indian Gaming” extends a welcome hand—

And the white man’s greed will give it back.

 

Sandra J. Hookham

 

 

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Read Poetry: Phantom Limbs, by Cheryl Glickauf-Hughes

Passion recalled like 
phantom limbs 
Like heroin, 
the first one is free. 
 
 
Do you Loki 
promise 
mere illusion? 
Don Quixote didn’t care 

 

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Read Poetry: SOUL MATE, by Chuck Loch

We were standing in your kitchen

A long, long time ago.

I looked in your eyes and you into mine

And we felt the same fire glow, again,

We both felt the same fire glow.

 

You leaned against the counter.

I sat in a straight-back chair.

We talked of kings and rings and things.

I reached out and touched your hair, so soft,

I reached out and touched your hair.

 

You mentioned the smell of breakfast

And told me you lived before.

I said I know I was with you.

Now, it’s time to live some more, right here,

It’s time to live some more.

 

I remembered we were lovers.

More facts I did not know.

Together then, now together again,

You whispered it’s time to go, once more,

You whispered it’s time to go.

 

Some say that life has a meaning:

To find your own true love,

To travel with her together, forever,

All over the earth and above.

All over the earth and above.

 

 

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Read Poetry: Peering into Hell, by Karl Larew

Peering into Hell, my friend and I,

We made a pact one day, before a

Fire of Blood,

Before the red abyss of time,

That we would make our time obey–

And the gods laughed at that.

They laughed our hopes away.

But we couldn’t hear–luckily we didn’t

Know–

When we made our pact that day,

Peering into Hell one day,

Peering into Hell

 

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