Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Dec 2015 Simpleton
Denel Kessler
He only lost her when
the music stopped

inner light faded from her face
her narrow arms, restless eels
winding through her shirt
snapping at the rising buzz
of voices, increasingly unbearable.

The teacher swooped in, miming
arms held close, contained; too late
for the pianist, armed with her name
and a captive audience, he accented
her frailty with two sharp syllables

and she was gone from there
to some mysterious world  
away from the crowd frozen
in the silent beat after
the reprimand.

It was only a moment
before the music resumed
opening notes vibrated up
through her toes, lovely arms
unraveled and rose overhead

her radiant smile
unfurled like forgiveness.
I wrote this after watching young children at a musical performance.  An autistic girl stole the show by completely inhabiting the music with her joyful body.  It was a lovely thing to witness.  But in a brief lull between numbers, she grew restless.  The pianist yelled the word NO and her name and it was like she instantly disappeared from her own body. Only the music brought her back. A regret I still carry is not speaking out against the pianist's very public shaming.  I ask that child and her parents for forgiveness.
Leave your slippers at the counter
said the watchman at the gate
an empty sack I put them in
entered temple on bare feet.

The walls were carved in fine granite
idols beamed in marbled shine
incense filled the ethereal light
breathing the air was purely divine.

After about a charmingly spelled hour
in lithe spirit I came out of temple door
presented the token at the shoes counter
poured the sack's content on the floor.

A strange pair mockingly looked back
not mine I shouted at the top of my voice
rows of sacks stared back from the rack
home barefoot wasn't a prospect to rejoice.

Obviously a wrong token was issued to me
the slippers therein belonged to someone else
and there I was arguing awkwardly
cursing high pitch over temple bells.

It took five minute's terror to find them out
so my feet could kiss the familiar smell
though not much something to write home about
those were the moments paradise felt hell.
Our poems are fabrics

knit with the dreams inside
laid out in the open
so may a passing eye
grant a glance

a pausing mind
decides for a fleeting moment
to wear

thinking them their own.
 Dec 2015 Simpleton
Samuel Hesed
Who am I?
A man made from the earth, with a fate already set?
A list of doubts, ready for me to devour?
Am I to take the pain that my father has left me?
Am I to change the course of the story to make ends meet?
Am I to lift my burden, or be dropped to my knees.
Am I different from all the rest, or just a face in a crowed of familiar faces?

I feel thoughts of pain, thoughts of suffering,
Am I to live in this despair, in this living hell.
I drop to the floor, to call out your name, I hear no answer.
I raise it to another volume,
I scream to the top of my lungs!
"If you are my King, save me from this death I live."
I still hear no answer.
When I felt there was no use, you got down, to look me in the eye, whispered into my ear, "Rise."

Without a thought, I rose to my feet,
wiped away the tears, stood up straight and forced a smile from my weakened lips.

You told me,
"My child, my sweet child. I made you for a purpose, I never set you in hell. But gave you life, so you may live it for me!
What you saw down the road, you will not be alone.
I will be by your side, I do not lie."

I looked upon my feet to see a path to follow.
I looked to the west and then to the east, saw angels praising and
Singing "Oh be thee Lord of the most high, who will live for ever and ever." 
I joined in with the choirs,
As I walked on my way, towards the sunset sky,
disappearing into the light.
Copyright © 2015 Paul Forbes All Rights Reserved
 Dec 2015 Simpleton
Nigel Finn
Don’t get arrested if you’re poor!
There’s no way they’ll let you go!
Privilege just means private law
To those who’re in the know

And if you ever wondered why it seems
The system disregards your self
It’s because you are on separate teams
"The law"’s an anagram of "wealth"

But do not worry, not all’s lost,
You poor demented yob
You can have freedom at a cost
-The freedom of the mob

Oh sure, The mob won’t listen
And doubtless will not care,
But it’s guaranteed admission
To most likely anywhere

But where will the people rally to?
Well, you may think this is funny –
It’s the same place that they always do-
The mob follows the money.

And the people rule the country
The same way as did the few,
But now you cannot blame them
Because "the people" includes you.
 Dec 2015 Simpleton
Suhani Arora
This is a farewell song,

The last words that I’ll ever exchange with you.

It’s a goodbye.

The end of everything.


Treat me as a stranger now and I’ll return the favour.

If some day, you run into me,

Do not take pains to smile or say hello, because I won’t return it.

Because a part of me won’t let me smile even if I want to.

Because my veins will tie my hands and stop me to reach for you,

to wave at you,  to embrace you, like I once did.

Because this is the end

It’s a goodbye.


You murdered my existence

There’s a part of me that’s always going to hate you,

A part of me that’s always going to remember you,

And remind me why storms are named after people.
 Dec 2015 Simpleton
Mike Hauser
Let's keep Christ in Christmas
Say the stickers and the signs
When was the day we lost our way
And can we find it back in time

Perhaps if we focused less on us
And more on the risen King
He'd not only be in Christmas
But also everything

I'm not saying that old St. Nicholas
Does not serve out a purpose
But when it comes to saving souls
I'm pretty sure he's worthless

So let's keep Christ throughout the year
Not only in this season
Making it to those around us clear
He truly is the reason
Next page