THE SPACE, by SYANDENE

It is
the space you fill
when the dawn
freshly breaks
the space you fill
with a anticipatory
brew of certainty
come what may

The space that says
there is no routine
only the linking
of mapped souls
through
inner conversations
and
earnest supplication
for how we
get through
in seeing another day

And as I start my day
I am reminded
of the happiness that
cycling into
the path of the sun brings
sensing the changing seasons
of being

Seeing workmen
backs – breaking
in the heat
of the mid-day sun
but happy – eyes decorating
constructional achievements
with pleasure

A mature couple
studying the geography
of a new locality
A new home sought – maybe
A new life researched – possibly
their day out
placed against
dancing sun’s rays

hands held
A ritualistic spell
connected in harmony
for the new day

Snapshots of women
pushing
new age designed prams
cradling innocent cargo
sleeping – oblivious
prepped for the
various struggles
they will encounter
bringing joy and pain
in this life’s relentless
refrain

A runner
fighting off exhaustion
for that final push, up
‘I can do this’ Hill

And the urban but
incessant babble
of school children
absorbed by the
ineffectiveness of what it means
to have the latest
technological gadget
in their possessions

I cycle
freewheel through
the cascade of monotone images
imbued to be outspoken
about the healing powers of
love and unity
for a world
rent in two
by the
fashionable commodity of
hatred and greed

reminded of my
grandmother’s timely words
” Chicken memba Gaad wen im drink”
meaning
thankfulness and reverence
must be the order of
the day

Knowing we aspire to
an idealized concept of we
knowing we lack nothing
want everything
and maybe
only visible things in between

Knowing that the
landscaping – reshaping
inward making and outward making
of the mapped soul
seeks no type of
hidden mystery
hurts

But now older
and much wiser
I am no longer
a subject to the
ligature marks of
life’s discordant cry

Free to journey into
onto and through
the iconoclastic footprints
left by the eclectics

For mine is a measured walk
inspecting the houses
inhabited by
wizened women
speaking truth in
its unaltered state

Sipping on
sacred science
the 7 tones of purity
the effusion of Ancient Mysteries
and the oneness of the
harmonized self

As they note
The New Ascension
unfurl its well preserved wings

That I too may climb higher
go within
and fly

(c) Syandene Jahia

Read Poetry: Confessions, by Lizardin Bain

You say I’m pretty. You say I’m kind,

But does it ever cross your mind,

That you’re being awfully abusive.

 

Of course, it doesn’t. Why it should?

The nicest words they never could,

Hurt anyone or be intrusive.

 

And people think so, and my brain,

It tries to cope, but all in vain.

My heart prefers to be preclusive.

 

You sing those tunes without a care,

You fail to see that I can’t bear,

The notes that sound to me illusive.

 

I understand that I am flawed,

But all I see is brutish fraud,

Who is as rude as he’s delusive.

 

I do not trust when someone says:

“I fell in love in three short days.”

It’s highly doubtful and allusive.

 

Your words are brining only pain,

They are constricting, like a chain,

And I can hardly take your glee.

 

But you’re urging me to stay,

And not allowing me to say,

My desperate, urgent plea.

The anger hops up to the front,

You end up sliced. You end up burnt,

You cuss, you spit, you flee.

 

I ‘m left alone. I’m left unbound.

Denied a voice, denied a sound,

Like cursed, unwanted sea.

 

I curl inside. I close the door,

Refuse to roar and feeling sore,

I throw away the key.

 

And I am failing to confess,

And I am failing to express –

How love confessions hurt me.

Genre: love, relationship, hurt, another point of view, confession, sad

Poetry: Brewstorm by Anmol Chitransh

Genre – heart break, heart ache, relationship, hurt.

Everyday there is a desire
When will my heart conspire
Against my belief
That love is not a relief

My medulla swore
To fill me with hate
To the core
Just for my sake

Heart is shattered enough
Cannot break me more
I will break down myself
Just embrace my core

Dont come so close
This soul is rusty and old
Not shallow and bold
Still naive and amateur

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Read Poetry: SOUL, by World Imagined

Genre: Relationship, Love

 
You don’t even know
the power
you don’t realise
the flower
that grows inside
illusioned with pride
guarded by mind
is your might
is your right
to fight
versus premise of life
to know the truth
to be full, not half.

Whilst keeping it a prisoner
in a dark corner of your heart
you can not fathom
you can not know
you can not see
you can not be
who you are.
 

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Poem: Loving with an Arrhythmia, by J. NACALABAN

Genre: Love, Romance, Relationship

 I have mastered the act of looking calm,
When my brain floods with dopamine,
And the sensors in my head transmit messages
To the other parts of my body, particularly my heart
To beat wildly and fast like an out of control drum
That it hurts so badly, but it will never show in my face.
I am the master of disguise,
That every time you’d look into my eyes, or touch my hand,
Or say my name – I’d look as neutral as I could.
Even though my chest screams in pain
Because, hey, this little acts of affection can make my heart beat faster,
So fast it forgets the rhythm that it should be beating in.
And somewhere inside my head, a loud sigh and an audible
“Here we go again,”
I can’t afford to be overjoyed and so I try not to think too much
On how beautiful you look when you laugh at that not-so-funny joke that I’ve
made,
Or how you tease me when I become childishly stubborn;
I can’t feel too excited, looking at you walk towards me
Because believe it or not, this dysfunctional heart can kill me.
But no matter how I try to suppress,
Fighting back with thoughts of dying,
That every time you lean your head on my shoulder,
Or look into my eyes, or touch my hand,
Or say my name – I’d risk skipping a beat,
If that’s what it takes for me to show how you make me happy.
If that’s what it takes for me to show how I love you.

 

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I did it all for you, Poetry by James Stordy

 Genre: Romance, Relationship

 I wrote a song for you, High above the clouds
that only angels can sing.
and you can hear.

Let us wander in my dreams, and join you in yours.
Beyond the mundane of life, where we live for each other
and that is all.

I wrote these lines for you , high above the clouds.
that only you can read and I recite .

I speak these lines for you, high above the clouds
that i whisper and you feel

I did this all for you, high above the clouds
so we can do it all together
from now until the end of time.

 

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Imperatives, Poetry by Divina Sobrepeña

 Genre: Romance, Relationship, Love

You will love me and I will not​
understand how you can see worth​
in eighty pounds of cuts and scars​
engraved like small, secret tattoos.​
wrong art hidden even from you,​
like that picture you took of me,​
my polystyrene face and hair,​
a plastic gaze and rubber smile:​
the painting of an amateur,​
a sad, empty imitation.

So, forget about morning texts.​
Do not flinch if I break away.​
Never you mind to wait for me.​
Forget and go about your day.

 

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 Mr. Façade, Poetry by Esther Oyebode

Genre: Relationship

eyes wide; tears streaming,
the slap across my face,
awake me from dreams and fantasy,
to hear the reject clearly.

the fist in my stomach
remind me of former regrets.
the leg against my neck
shouts game over,
tearing my pride apart,
killing me till I really died.

how did I fall for the hug
that seemed to scream
of how I can be cherished;
or the smile that held my gaze.

Heaven’s apple got me enticed,
even Eve in the garden had no choice.
I was mesmerized by his beauty.
my body fitting every inch
got me believing I was right
with choices made.

only five nights before
his eyes spoke the words aloud
I want you
the handshake screamed
can I know you more?
his approach spat
let me take you to a place
his voice whispered
I want you forever.

 

    * * * * *

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Satan and his forbidden island, Poetry by Aziz Alkaabi

 Genre: Rhyme, Relationship

 It will shiver soon,
Their own holy dawn
and the golden moon
will shy and yawn,

Blinking her last
hazel lights on a vast
silky ocean.

Soon,
The flaming sun
will beam his discipline,
And
I am awake I am alone.

It will shiver soon
their own holy dawn,
And the sea
will tender her waves,
For them to depart.

Gods of winds will rise
to rub their eyes,
Eager to lead them away.

Nightingales,
Avid to pray,
Across this magical bay
and guiding stars assiduous,

Glazing their shining armor.

When I am listless,
Atop my dormant mountain,
I am awake always alone.

Reflecting,
Over this cold flint
and sharp stone.

Waiting to espy them again,
Joyous Poets,
They will be sailing
to “New Babylon”

That disguised heaven,
Amidst her emerald sea,
I am told.

The immortal island,
I am forbidden to go see.

The land of enchanting potions,
They attain bliss.

That mysterious land
of eternal milk and sacred honey.

Towering castles,
Beneath which flow,
Rivers of godly wines.

They will be sailing
to New Babylon,

Where they will be taught
the speech of birds
by Solomon’s children.

Where they will be schooled
to tame his winds.

When I am listless,
Atop my dormant mountain,
I am awake always alone.

How arduous
can this be?

Will it ever break
this nasty old spell?

The curse which
kept me yearning
for a million years,

Knowing not
what I make or do here.

Except!
Every blazing month of June,
I find me waiting,

Over this silent mountain,
By the sea.

Tending seaside birds,
Waiting
and my hurtful sorrows,
And soon
I’ll watch them wild sparrows.

Some,
Their thighs are pale,
Some,
Their streaks yellow,
And some,
Just like me!

They bear

Dark spots
around their hearts.

 

    * * * * *

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The Journey Home, Poetry by Tyson Cantrell

 Genre: Rhyme, Relationship

Have thy lips forgotten their journey home?
Their expedition makes the arbor blush;
A tread uncertain, for the lone to roam,
And one too heady for the learn’d to rush.

They do stray from reason, with passion straight;
Though ne’er removed from the artisan’s fear;
But mark their path with Aphrodite’s gait;
A perilous voyage for lovers’ near.

Must they insist traversing the unknown?
Might they pause, and harbor heaven divine?

I shall stop thy pilgrimage with mine own;
Two weary travelers that long for rest,
Open thy crimson gates, and welcome them;
No sweeter neighbor has e’re been thy guest.

 

    * * * * *

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