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A T Bockholdt Dec 2017
On the weathered pier of Huntington
laid upon the salt licked beach,
the old, hull of a forgotten
ship. Split, for its wooden fruit. The juice
of our sweat becoming mist
while we walked the plank,
in suspense, between clouds and sea.
The knotted surface sore
from sun. Burnt backs float
on the waters of their green veins,
like Guamamela1 on the ***** river
banks. “NO ACCESS,” signs in red
and white lights, harshly beating
against the dark skin of the wood,
the memory of another life.
I remember, my Lolo and Lola
bending to the waves of people
pressed still in one space.
The one time, they could hold onto
my hands, I felt them shaking.
In tongues they resurrected
the island, said there none
of this exists.
Why did I laugh?

1. Filipino hibiscus
This is part of collection for a senior portfolio project at CU Denver
Project is intended to represent the stylistic distinctions of great American poets through the imitation of their poetics and/or their subject matter

James Wright wrote on the "outcasts," of society in an attempt to capture the sentimental loneliness that the disenfranchised members of society felt. This poem works to capture the feelings that my Lolo and Lola have felt their entire lives as Filipino Immigrants into America. Using free verse, I have created a narrative story that marries the surreal aspects of memory and reality. Wright also used very purposeful punctuation to enhance the simple rhetoric he uses in his poems which I also attempt to exemplify in this poem.
RiBa Nov 2017
In this city of dreams
Of Bright lights and pulsating sidewalks,
Splendid wheels and shining glass,
He walks by, oblivious to it all.

His eyes lost in the ground
Ever searching......
For that crumpled bottle to fill his bag
His hungry and poor gunny bag.

His shirt, a patchwork of squalor, filth and lost dreams
Callused hands and wind swept hair
Feet bare, cracked and withered
Hollow eyes shining with ravenous hunger

No dreams for him though
Perhaps a cup of tea and a stale bun for the day.
No hopes for tomorrow
For he is Atlas, born to carry the weight of the privileged

In this city of dreams
Of love, enlightenment and empowerment.
He is,
The Voiceless
Death by Decoy Jul 2017
So I;

I move in the same pace as the river.
I flow along with it as I keep a shiver;
Ignoring all the rocks that come my way,
so never will I be in one place to stay.

Yet you;

You struggle against the fast moving water.
You flow against it with a sturdy little quiver;
Using the rocks as so to keep you at bay,
then breathe a sigh of contentment and stay.
She says I'm funny,
She says I remind her of money,
Because I smell like I could buy her diamonds,
She's hooked by the way I'm nutty like almonds,
But we have problems, like dogs have flea's,
With every romantic notion, she splits and flees.

I don't know what it is about her,
I just know I can't live without her,
So I'm the druggie and she's the crack,
I'm hoping one day she'll take me back,
To a time that's close to a brighter tomorrow,
Yet the present without her feels like sorrow.

Oh, if I could have her for just one day,
Maybe the rain and clouds would go away,
To reveal a magnificent, shining sun,
So I can be Superman again and save everyone,
But I'm not lucky, I guess I'm not,
Because all she does is make me rot.

Like someone's favorite sandwhich left out in the cold,
I'll remember every moment with her until I'm old,
Because even without her, she's still my valentine,
The feeling of being inside her gets me every time,
Just make it happen God, stop keeping us apart,
I know she's the moon, I'm the earth, but love is art.

You have to draw the line between the dots,
You have to carve a groove in all the slots,
To get to the heart of the woman in charge,
Of your soul the one that's very large,
I hate this feeling, like, what am I missing?
A boat, the open sea, us... Kissing?

That's right, that would be the perfect moment,
I hurt her once, but that wasn't what I meant,
To do, that's why I'm telling you this,
Moments of happiness may feel like bliss,
However, when you meet the perfect one,
If she says something like, we're done,

Just take off and run,
As fast as you can,
Don't worry about the tears,
It's a part of being a man.
I wrote this back in March of 2013.

I'm certainly the most unlucky guy when it comes to relationships... like breaking an arm, a leg or a rib every time you go to the gym.
Does luck change?
Here's to hoping it does, "Cheers!"

Enjoy!
Micah Rion Jul 2015
She says the ghost of you is insanity,
that your soul is welcome breath
upon my loneliness,
a manifestation derived from
a mysterious noise
or a distant calling of my name.

The breeze makes me cold
sitting here on the porch where we last met.
I feel like my soul is lost,
whispering words into the darkness,
thinking you can hear me.

There's a streetlight on the corner
that shines dimly upon falling snow,
disguising it like piles of diamonds,
or fragile tears made of glass;
shed only upon release of knowledge
too full of truth to be denied.

Passing cars are seldom,
people clutch their coats around them
tighter,
walking through the alleyways.
Reminds me of the way we hide
ourselves within ourselves
clutching, grasping
holding on,
folding our feelings around us like coats.

And my only consolation
is the sharp intake of oxygen and nicotine
merged into one
to live and to die all in a single breath.

This lingering ritual of watching
nights pass,
like a shuffling of cards front to back,
blows away the memories
in dusty swirls of smoke,
leaving the entirety of your essence
instilled in one moment.

She says the ghost of you is insanity,
that your soul is welcome breath
upon my loneliness,
a manifestation derived from
a mysterious noise,
or a distant calling of my name.
Lynn Greyling Nov 2014
How  slow  my  awakening  is
in  the  small  sleepless  hours,
as  I  look  into  a  cloudless  night
and  find  no  stars  a-shining.

My  hand  is  an  upturned  palm  
Gazing  at  a  relentless  sky,
A  statue  of  frozen  remembrance
Of  a  gift  that  has  long  gone  by.
Jamie King Apr 2014
The beauty of the beast is
the beast within the beauty.
To this I was blind, until my eyes were open by rib-breaking-swords aiming straight
for my only weakness.

The mirror of your image is a broken glass.
Reflecting the scars you embedded in this heart.

Do I drown myself in a river of poison or do I close my eyes and hope that tommorow will shed sorrows and mend my heart.
When your heart is so broken that every heart beat feels like needles inside your heart
Amitav Radiance Jul 2014
The fundamentals of simplicity is not fathomed
Entangled in the barbed wires of complexities
Simple words sing no more to the yearning ears
Heavy laden words and tedious conversations
Gnawing away at the precious moments of life
Disparity is making the divide in humanity
Thoughts no more in one’s control, all indoctrinated
Confusion and rage seems to be the new found ‘normal’
Wonder why simplicity is consigned to such a fate
Let there be a new dawn of realization, to simply live
Breathe in the fresh era of clarity, with no malice
Simplicity, I pray to thee, turn your gaze towards humanity

— The End —