Confessional Poetry - Hello Poetry

Apr 2018

Brent Kincaid

No god ever spoke to me.
Not because I never tried!
There were times I cried
And begged to hear a word.
Nothing seemed to be heard.
There was no imperious voice
With avoiding not being a choice.
There was no burning bush;
Nor gentle or heavy push
One direction or the other.

It remained for me to get together
With some paid hack with a book
Who preferred not to look at me
Because he wanted to deal with
Easier sins than I could offer
Then, I was to add to his coffer
For rebuilding his den of thieves
But that couldn't relieve my worry
Or my problems. Maybe the Muslims
Could chant from their book of mysteries.

But no, I had already read their history
And large hunks of their sacred poems.
I recognize double-talk when I see them.
I got plenty of that in my upbringing.
I can still hear the songs they were singing
About eyes on sparrows and loving
But the poor are still naked and dying.
The poor are all nationalities and colors
And they lay in the gutters together
As the godly brothers pass; spit at them
And demand they get up and move away
And take their misery to another doorway.

I, the unhearing, could find no endearing
Reason to put on costumes and dance
To some four thousand year old romance
About gypsies and witches promising
To keep on doing what I was doing
And I would see the kingdom of heaven
Or maybe even six or seven, to suit belief.
Meanwhile here I am on this reef, at sea
With no deity to talk to me and explain
Why none of the miracles remain today
But have been washed away by time.
Or did they ever really exist at all?
Me? I’m still awaiting that divine call;
For my schefflera to catch on fire, or
To receive from god a Western Union wire.

#god #religion #miracles #belief #faith #communication #poetry #kincaid

Apr 2018

Graff1980

Untitled

The smoky spasms
of specters passing
fill my teary blurred
vision;

Forced phantasms
of former friends
and family
which I remember
quite fondly,

The young girl
across the street
who was missing
a few teeth,

The old lady
and old man
who brought me up,
helping when they could,

The elderly grocer
of Kregor’s store
where I purchased
penny tootsie rolls,
and three cent
laughy taffy

The long dead dogs,
the trees,
the memories
of a younger me
living dangerously
hanging upside down
thick branches,

these spirits haunt me
partially paining
but mostly reminding me
of the good times.

#past #memories

Apr 2018

Isabelle

“Gone”

now that you were gone
you were the only ghost
that i want to haunt me
forever and ever

for Lola, now my angel
.
So far, it was the longest days I’ve stayed (home) since you were gone. I guess I have to get used to you being ‘gone’. And when I say “gone” it’s not just being physically absent. It’s not just some word for the emptiness. It’s not just the vacuum.
.
‘Gone’ is the untouched lipstick, not knowing it can’t never be used again. ‘Gone’ is the pair of slippers under your bed, I wonder when was the last time you wore them. ‘Gone’ is realising your armchair is vacant. ‘Gone’ is the unfinished skirt you were trying to sew. ‘Gone’ is the deck of cards left on your cupboard, nobody won’t ever play them again. ‘Gone’ are the half empty medicine containers. ‘Gone’ is the space beside my bed.
.
When we lose someone we scan our mind and heart. We search for memories, those striking and meaningful. We ache for that sentimental and big memories that we often overlooked the simple moments in between. As I stay here in “our” bed, I wish so much that I could just watch you as you play solitaire or as you take your medicines- such ordinary things that I took for granted but would **** to experience one more time when it’s all over.
.
Look at it, there should be no understated days. Seize each moment with your love ones, those tiny little moments are what stitches together our very existence. Appreciate each moment before it becomes a memory. Embrace them, squeeze them tight in your heart because one day, unknown to you, it will be the last time you’ll ever experience them.
.
Oh, how I would defy everything just to hug you one more time. Until we meet again **
.
words on write up inspired by some fb post which i read long ago, can’t remember where i saw it.

#gone

Apr 2018

Pax

dimlit star

You were the dimlit star
I am trying to reach.

You've lost much
of your glow
how I wish
my light would reach you, and
teach you
that in life
you're ever so beautiful.

How the harsh words of the world
barricades you soft spoken heart
into stones.

thank you all in reading my lightly lit star in my so dim world.

ive secluded much of my world into the four corners of my home, hated to see how harsh can the world judge me. also hated this part of me, a coward. I needed to remind myself of this feeling to move forward even a little step will do.

#dimlit #star #pax #heart #spoken #stones #light #glow

Mar 2018

South-by-Southwest

Not

I was not the original son
A first page
A number one
I was always the period
At the end
The quotation marks
That were left undone

I was the pause
That separates
That feeling you get
That you came too late
The one who stood
outside the door
When inside were passed
Out the fates

So I've come
To walk around
Those now living in the ground
Where in the dark there is no light
None to much to talk about
Just my breath the only sound

I have come here
To settle down
Upon this space
My hallowed ground
My favorite stone
upon which I sit
Beside the ties they left unbound

With the Dead
I hold my court
There are no groans
They don't exhort
The chase is done
The horns have sounded
Hark the chords of a la mort

Until dawn
A captive audience
I hold down
My midnight's deviance
Until first light
Threatens with
Complete radiance

Mar 2018

Graff1980

Untitled

It grieves my heart,
that ink ambrosia loss
of forsaken affection,
that weary winter soul
woven in a spider web
that the leaver’s spin.

Chest tied
in flagpole knots
false flapping fabric
that symbolizes
a love that turns out
to no one surprise
to be a self-deluded lie.

So, I should just swallow
that chalky pill,
that bad medicine made
to make me not feel
anything but numbly ill.

I am neither
brave nor coward enough
to dim my muscle of love.
Instead, I face a war
of attrition,
a strange painful mission
of moving towards
a hopeful future
despite my persisting losses.

Mar 2018

SassyJ

Myriad of Erudition

Writing is a gesture that ties my pleasure
As people walk in and out after a search
For the luminescent touch of knowledge
And the manipulation they wear dares
To become the only monster they treasure
Myriads of erudition and contemplations
Of the human mind, of the human kind
Is it not the wisdom bestowed by academia?
The biased subjective assessments
The reduced objective indoctrination
The social constructions of the reality itself
Is it not the wisdom bestowed by academia?
Such a relative weighted in apollonian seams
That makes doctors to treat ailments
That makes a judge to rule a deluded justice
That makes a teacher drill a curriculum
Is it not the wisdom bestowed by academia?
Which make us question creation
Which reduces the metaphysics to nothing
Which validates the seen and not unseen
They offered us schools, those glass rules
That brings scholars to warm the benches
Such cruel rues, after years of toil
And there is neither guarantee for jobs
Such a robbery, a dare of mere mockery
So watch those children, as they wear bags
And trek to school everyday, another dystopia
So watch those children, paraded and uniformed
And as their eyes are matted with a bright future
The reality of the future they hold is contrary
For loans will bear the apex of their ribcage
For jobs will become a rare commodity
Artificial robots and self-driven cars
Automated rackets and self-serving checkouts
The obsolete conquest of human labor
Shall time be the only resource we bear?
It’s eventual but ever so inevitable

Mar 2018

Graff1980

Untitled

Life shifts
from daylight shades
of cloudy grey
and turquoise
to dark blue.

I train my eyes
heaven ward
to watch
for a sparkle
of you.

Looking for the twinkle
of my grandfather’s
ancient eyes,
looking for
the perfect star cluster
to help me realize
that his memory
still lies
behind my eyes.

I look for a trigger
that I figure
will spark
the memory
of his bearded voice,

but this night
is not good enough
to remind me of
the lost one I love.

So, I slip and surrender to
the sadness of
missing the missing pieces.
Cause my memory
of deceased family
has been fragmented
and distorted by time.

#memory

Mar 2018

South-by-Southwest

Tears of Fire

I'm
mixing alcohol
with . . .
my silver tears of fear

While . . .
I am
looking back on the agony
of my life
Whose demise
is drawing near

I dream of being Phoenix
with
red plumage and desire
to be
consumed
by the tears
I will have set
on fire

So . . .
let me pour another drink
and
rake the coals of strife

So I'll be
setting my tears on fire
while
waiting on new life

Mar 2018

Amanda Kay Burke

Backspace

If I could turn back time
I would hit Backspace all day,
Id put on Caps Lock
and SHOUT what I say.

I'd use the whole Alphabet
To tell you hello,
Press seven Numbers
Til you picked up the phone.

I'd Tab through the comments
I didn't want to hear,
And use the Arrow Keys
To drag your body near.

I would Delete the harsh words
I didn't mean to speak,
And Insert the "I love yous"
I before couldn't leak.

I would use Ctrl to
Keep reigns over my heart,
And I would Escape lies
That tore us apart.

I'd Print out your photo
And kiss it goodnight,
Use the Calculator
To check that we were right.

I'd Paint you a picture
of us, you and me,
Then I'd hit Enter
Just so you would see.

Those are the things
I would do in my strife,
If only Backspace
worked in real life.

This is the first poem (that I have a copy of) i wrote that I actually thought was good. I was in seventh grade, twelve years old, and I wrote it for a newspaper competition. I knew it was really great but I didn't think I would beat all other applicants in the state in my age group. So you can imagine my surprise I'm sure when I DID win! That is the first time I was proud of my writing. So this one has a lot of special sentimental value. Thanks for reading.

#backspace #love #life #sad #time #us #right #heart #nostalgia

Mar 2018

Ahmad Cox

Fireflies

In my dreams I see millions of fireflies flying in the dark and illuminating the night with their heavenly light.
As I am watching this scene unfold I see hundreds of frogs on the horizon as they march slowly towards the fireflies I witness a grisly scene. I start to see right before my eyes that the fireflies are being eaten by the frogs. At first one by one but soon hundreds of fireflies have fallen to the skillful tongues of frogs until only a handful of fireflies remain and then there is only one firefly left. Even as the frogs are trying to get that one last firefly it is brighter and lighter than the rest and it is able to easily avoid the tongues of the frogs until it begins to rise above the frogs and into the sky free from the frogs at last. I feel like sometimes we can be like fireflies sharing our light but when troubles come we can easily be swallowed by the frogs of life that try to bring us down but as long as we keep our inner light strong in ourselves we can be like the last firefly left easily avoiding the frogs of life that try to bog and you will rise any trials that life has to offer.

A poem about fireflies.

Mar 2018

Parker

Count the Stars

1 second, 2 seconds
3 seconds, 4
i can't breathe... I'm
clutching my chest trying to
stay off the floor
5 ticks, 6 ticks
7 ticks, 8
how could he...why couldn't
he just learn to appreciate..
what he had.
what he had.
me. me.
i can't breathe.
BUSY. stay busy.
count again. again.
1 click, 2 clicks
3 clicks, 4
my heart is beating
my chest is sore
count. count.
please keep counting.
stay busy.
5 Mississippi, 6 Mississippi
7 Mississippi, 8
my knees are weakened
and my vision's filled with hate
9 taps, 10 taps
11 taps and 12
12...12.... what comes after 12?
13. right. 13.
13....14....15...16...
do you think he'll even miss me?

#cheat #liar #brokenheart #broken #alone #hurt #relationship

Mar 2018

Graff1980

Untitled

It is those depths
that people share,
painful truths and all
that make people human
and tragically
beautiful.

It is the pain
that connects us,
when we realize
we suffer similar
sorrows,
these experiences
open us up
to empathy,
making it
harder to be
cruel.

#humanity