A Poet's Voice - Hello Poetry

Sep 2016

NV

i know only how to wear this body like an apology.
like i'm sorry i take up too much space.
like i'm sorry,
i don't feel small enough to fit into your hands.
i wear it like a sin.
like a prayer that never feels answered.
like confessions i keep trying to change.
i wear it like a broken commandment,
because i love thy neighbour,
but i hate myself.

Sep 2016

Jeff Stier

Yachats

Sour smell of wood smoke
seaweed flayed and dried
upon the rocks
those huddled stones
prone and obeisant to the grey sea

And there
a star that is settling
into the indifferent waves
leaving us cold and bereft
soon to be entwined
with the night

But do not despair
We will wake with the dawn
bring the candle of hope
in our hands
and much peace

A solemn and ocean-deep peace
shared
with every sentient being
in time
and every being departed
from time

The moon has its quarters
the sun its seasons
I have only this tenuous grasp
on life
a primal sense of loss and love
and the dull roar of the Pacific
in my ear

Yachats is my favorite little town on the Oregon coast. A good place for existential meditations.

Sep 2016

John Patrick Robbins Aka Gonzo

Rye Whiskey

Maybe it's that marvelous view as they walk away that never seems to compel me to call them back.

Maybe its the happiness of being alone the wind in your hair or the the highways empty embrace that just seems to keep me ruining far longer than the rest.

The bottle the music a simple soundtrack to the existance we only care to forget.

Passion doesn't exit online as machines can't breath life into your lungs but I can't certainly darken your door if only you'd allow me to tonight.

The party we will have only to forget.
You me and the page it's all in secret and all for them to never truly understand .

Summer may you die.
As all the bad girls sing cheap motels were we gather the ice machine I vist to often underneath the stairs .

I sleep drink repeat .
Trying to find the lines I searched for all the these years past.

From the dust bit in Austin to the Kentucky bourbon embrace I will romanticize the decay only to show you the reality I to often ignore myself .

Another drink shared and hopefully another night with you.

The page can't capture passion .
But I believe I touched upon it more than once with her tonight .

#poetry #addiction #life #passion #past #the #existance #road #starngers #plessure

Sep 2016

david mungoshi

any piece of the earth

give me, o do give me
any piece of the earth
let me show you
there's no dearth
of wisps of smoke
and peals of laughter
they quote with gleaming eyes
and are courted everywhere
there's no scarcity of shared experiences
in any measure or hue
and that's always true
i should be garlanded
i should be serenaded
wherever my fancy takes me
for in very truth is say to you
any which way in the world
is a corner of my room
thus see me weep in travail
but always to no avail
for the elite of the world
who would speak for us
though we have mouths to speak and things to say
are forever seeking ways to tell us we're different
but give me, o give me, any piece of this earth
and i shall be home in harmony with the breath of life
never again to be alienated by false councils
my heart will sprout into luxuriant shrubs
that dance each break of day
to songs of the universe

i yearn to be a citizen of the world, roaming free

Sep 2016

J Robert Fallon III

Prepare the Perfect Storm

Never stay bitter, always maintain your positive mental attitude.

Never proclaim yourself as rude or crude, even when rarely understood.

Evil lurks and stalks at every corner, seeping into every facet of life preparing the perfect storm for a shocked mourner.

Societies new idiocracies somehow grew, and grew, while peace bent and waned beyond its known limit, as the first crunch echoed from the u-shaped bamboo, all greedy intent was now all spent.

Rise above the masses, and lead your own personal thought.

All these years kept in the dark, tons and tons of distraught,
when this pain is the only sensation necessary to uncover the hidden truths, and the malicious blind-spots.

#love #poem #poetry #truth #poet #peace #pain #politics #president #democracy

Sep 2016

Joel M Frye

Where Have You Gone, Joe DiMaggio?

a crooked ugly man walked up
and said "all hope is spent
i'll build a wall and save you all
and be your president

believe me, i can cure all ills
and make all merkins proud
if you'll just take this oil of snake
i sell to every crowd

for any lie becomes the truth
if you but scream it thrice
so plant the seed then others bleed
and you don't pay the price

come spend your vote to buy my line
of prejudice and hate
ignore the churl of all the world
we'll make our nation great"

a machinating woman comes
the way her husband went
"i've done no crime i'm next in line
to be your president

you see how he goes off the rails
and nothing said is true
i can't shoot straight, i fabricate
but never lie to you

lost last time when set to win
this time did what i can
and worked my scut to undercut
an inconvenient man

we're dealing from the bottom, folks
the country's gone to ***
i may not be the best there is
but i'm the best you've got"

so laugh about it, shout about it,
when you've got to choose
your **** is hoist on Hobson's choice
the poison or the noose

...going to the candidate's debate....

Will we ever have the ****** to vote for a third-party candidate?

Sep 2016

Just Melz

Growing Evil ~~~ Collaboration with DaSH ❤

Polished and refined,
With death I have found
A life below ground
A place I can call mine
Destruction and evil deeds
A breeding of pure hate
Is all that I can create
Out of all these heartless seeds

I punch them in
To the deep sullen dirt
Water them with vengeance
And a sprinkling of hurt
Tonight is the night
I find what dwells below
I don't have a key
But I can bargain with my soul
As I place it into these seeds
I am but reeds in the grass
I'm letting go
Only Heaven knows
The blackness of Hell's wrath

I plant my lifeless soul in this plot
To groom it as it grows
So slowly that nobody knows
It's the place the devil goes to rot
Watered with tears, warmed with fire
And as time stands still, never changing
This fruition of evil continues growing
Until the depths of hell can go no higher

Then it will bloom
A flowering gloom
Growing out of control
The ground will harden
In this here garden
Fertilized by my soul

#love #life #pain #dark #evil #garden #devil #soul #growing #hellopoetry107

Sep 2016

K Balachandran

In every passionate love story, there is a river of fire to cross.

He dreamed he was Sappho's one true friend,
whom she trusted to share her amorous secrets,
And soon this revelation; his point of no return !
He longed to be a woman, to let her make love to him!
Is it her body, soul or poetry,don't ask him
what made him truly crazy,triggering unnamed pleasures
The other part of him, in love with himself, relentlessly protests,
"My desire for her is that of a man to a woman"

In every passion filled story of love,there is a river of fire
to cross, a challenge to to take up with a 'do or die 'spirit
Love puts one in dilemmas without resolve, and observes,
declares one as a winner or a failure, at the long last!

A life steeped in a fantasy, even in sleep,he is entangled
in hopeless love,which makes him a martyr, victim or hero
When he wakes up, he dreams, he'll bring about lasting peace.
By reading Sappho, till the time he decides it's enough!

#peace #passion #fantasy #****** #sappho #riveroffire

Sep 2016

chimaera

voyage

J'aime les ponts.
Ils m'obsèdent.
De tout âge, toutes formes.
Des eaux troublées
à en sécher les rivières,
la dérive de la mémoire
en l'hypnose de la pendule,
les branches des saules.
Et ce n'est même pas
la traversée du départ.
C'est plutôt l'arrivée.
L'idée d'arriver quelque part,
comme si c'était chez nous,
finalement.
La ville qui se réveille
comme le dessin pointillé
d'un ciel nocturne
dans une odeur de port,
à l'aube,
le navire emballé par la mer
qui se distancie.
Le contour du pont.
Suspension d'un mirage.
Comment ne pas en rêver,
des ponts?

~~~

I love bridges.
I am obsessed by them.
From all ages, all shapes.
Waters, so troubled
that rivers dried out,
the drifting of memory
in the hypnosis of a pendulum,
the willow branches.
And it is not about
the crossing to depart.
It is about arrival.
The idea of arriving somewhere,
like if it could be home,
finally.
The town, awakening,
esquisse in pointillage
of a nocturnal sky,
the scents of the harbour,
at dawn,
the ship, cradled by the sea,
lost in distance.
The outline of a bridge.
Suspended mirage.
How not to build upon?

27.08.2016