Re-post - Hello Poetry

Apr 2018

Pradip Chattopadhyay

You're daring enough to have ventured into the night,
he sounded delirious in the wispy light.

Half a mile across the lagoon
moondrunk Ridleys in ghostly shadows
would be digging holes in the sands
to lay their lives for posterity
away from the phosphoric melody
leaving the orphaned to find their way
once the shells cracked under silica.

They look like a procession of mourners,
the man whispered between strokes of oars
sloshing the rising tides of the channel
his deft hands rowing the fastest
cutting across the half mile to Cuthbert Bay.

The night ripened enough by that time
unfolded the crawling shadows from the sea
slowing time in frameshot motions
of rows of celebrating marchers.

Dead of night the stars were burning out
and I called out to the boatman.

To this day I don't believe what I heard.

None was ever ferried back by the boatman.

Apr 2018

Pradip Chattopadhyay

The Backyard with a Blackberry Tree

Remember brother we didn't play with toys
we were two little toy soldiers
on two sides of the cold war
crawling on elbows and knees
in the backyard with a blackberry tree
firing at each other with invisible guns
our mouths echoing the rat-tat of bullets
and it was not blood that soaked us
but drops of heavily falling rains
upon soil long parched by the heat
exuding smell of love all over the wind
when the two would roll over each other
escaping from a war with no real enemies
pleading i'm wounded, don't shoot me.

We don't play wars any more brother
the cold war is long over
and we stopped being not enemies.

Apr 2018

Polar

In the still of the night

In the stillness of the dark
I sit,
And outside my window
The night holds many possibilities.
People move within the shadows
Barely visible to the naked eye
Living shadow lives alongside my own.

Do we dream together?
And will love survive death?

I see you
In different times
Living different lives
And myself as a shadow
Living my own shadow life.

Apr 2018

SelinaSharday

@Poetry's Personal AD!

Is it one size fits all
Does it fit you, is it irrevelant.
Can you smoke it
Can you wear it.. can you take it or leave it.
Is it fitting like underwear..
A just for me pair.
Poetry.. intimacy.
intellectual
deep down to the soul.
Like a pair of comforting shoes.
Like your muse..
Does it heal or bruse.
Can you wear it.. if so where like on your head.
Or can it take you to bed.
Poetry does it tickle your funny bone.
Is it comical, does it delight your witty.
Does it ignite your silly..
Does it sooth the aches when you feel alone.
Poetry needs.. To absorb as it feeds. Oh it has its tone.
It has needs..It is being exposed.
Even to the unrecognizable.
Poetry is revealing..Needs reading..The poetic anatomy.
Consume It.. drink it greedily.
If you reply back It responds so happily.
Where ever you can apply it, you can have it.
Its down to the soul.. Poetry is personal.
s.a.m selinasharday 2018

All.about that poetic vibe

#poetrypoems #poetic

Apr 2018

Thomas P Owens Sr

i'm sorry

i'm sorry for the things i've said
i'm sorry for the words that bled
unrelenting
from your severed heart
it is a curse that i must bear
i speak without a whim or care
i think not of my love's despair
only that it will survive
for it is love

like claws they work to rip and tear
until your love
succumbs
and there
you awaken
and I can only say...
I'm sorry

oldie

#blind #sorrow #forgive #uncaring