Em 1d

Your eyes can say one thousand words.
A picture
of the galaxies,
framed by your long lashes
which have the strength to latch onto me

Your eyes can say one thousand words
But you have not yet given me
the map
the legend
the dictionary
or the puzzle's key.

Plant
a seed
In the soil,
the seed
will grow
to have a
thousand
leaves,
once
you give a
little gift,
you never
know how
your gift
can plant
a tree
within
someone's
heart

Bryce Jan 4

Let’s discuss the things that do not change
Assign an essay to compare/contrast
Take a look at what you know:
The world does not live in iconoclasts

The endless rivers run with dead blood
The timeless mountains reek of blistered soles
To you,
There is no time or place worth holding.

Please tell me how steel will last longer than stone
That man’s words will disappear
Evaporative steam on a bathroom mirror
When it hits your hot-head with the morning glow

One hundred and sixty million years ago
A rock was nudged off its course
Plummeted assiduously through the outer Sol
And struck home with astronomic force.

The firestorm slaughtered the dinosaurs
And let tiny little pitiful things
Pick up the carcasses and make human beings
Out of the ash and amino acid.

I tried to throw a pebble into a pond
Aiming for a single Oxygen atom
And imagined that I killed those fallen beasts
when the ripples broke that watery peace

Flames are eternal,
They hide in our stars and shine bright in our eyes
The heat of life is louder than the pound of the hammer
And burns away the chaff quicker than the sickle

Someone drew a Swastika below the overpass,
Crossed it out in a sanguine circle
I thought to myself,
“It is no more!”
Then realized it was already home

draw light, speak in darkness
seek peace, make war.
seek to starve that which you fear,
And only feed it more

Come now, let’s take our thoughts to the battleground
Trample god’s land under our earthen boots
Kill each other with chemical bombs
To prove we they are the chosen group

Expedite that famous entropy
Nudging souls out of bodies
Subvert the Earth’s hegemony
So that man may taste that godly fruit

Vedanti Jan 3

Dear Papa,
Yesterday I saw something that I didn’t understand.
They were walking a little ahead of me.
But walking isn't the right word,
because there were two people
and only two feet.
It sounds like a math problem,
But nothing added up in my head.
It sounds like Vikram Vetal, papa,
But unlike the story you told me the other day,
there was no strong king or sly demon.
I saw, however, one dirty underfed boy of eight
dragging his crippled mother across the street.
Adhunik Shravan bal.
A Lilliputian on a Herculean task.
I couldn't decipher her age.
When you're that poor, does age matter?
Do they keep count of the days that pass by
when their aim is to survive just one?
Do they have a mirror to look into
and count the wrinkles on their face?
What does age matter to an eight year old boy
who, instead of attending school,
is hauling his handicapped mother across the road
on a seating board with wheels?
When I was that age, papa,
you bought me a skateboard
that was the exact leaf green
from my 50 colours oil pastels set.
I couldn't see the colour of their clothes.
There was the dark of the night,
yellow of the street lights
and everything was in sepia
like the picture you showed me
of your childhood.
You once told me you were raised in poverty too, papa.
Are there different kinds of poverty?
Did you get toys to play with
or were your clothes in sepia too?
I told you this sounds like a math problem, papa,
And here’s what doesn't add up.
Isn't a parent supposed to hold their child's hand
and show them how to cross the road?
I remember holding your hand,
looking left-right-left
and matching my steps
with your strides.
Fast, but never run.
Who taught him, papa?
Did he have his own papa to teach him?
How did he learn to walk fast enough
and pull hard enough
so that he and his mom made it across the road in time?
How did he find the strength if he was underfed?
He truly reminds me of Shravan bal,
because who else would carry his mother
across such distances.
I told you it sounds like Vikram Vetal, papa,
and now that I think about it, it really does.
Maybe this little boy is a young king.
Maybe he brings his vetal back home every day.
Maybe he hears her talk about her day.
And maybe, papa,
when he succeeds every night,
she saves him from an evil tantric.
An evil tantric called hunger.

Zero Nine Oct 2017

There was a time you'd find
its untidy nest at the top of the lot
in the front room of apartment zero nine

Then, miles down time's treadmill
the creature first took notice, took a look
at its surroundings said,

"My world's color could be described as, and called, shame."

It split itself in half
The legs grew a head
The torso grew wings

While the grounded body kept vigil,
kept the common company
of rapists, liars, and thieves,
the winged being pushed off the Earth,
never to return to shame
as an ape with one short face,
but as a thing with a thousand names.

wat
Sandoval Jun 2017

He gave me in one look,


what a thousand sunsets


never could.


Sandoval

Debbie Brindley May 2017

For 15yrs we had a love pure and true
Love so perfect I feel bound to you
Like intertwining vines
of a wisteria
My heart shatters a million times over knowing you can never
be my forever
The time will come to leave this place of chaos and confusion
Not knowing what is real or what is delusion
We may meet again
In another time and place
Forever in my heart
You have a special space
With all that is happening
I'd  live this life a thousand times over again and again
So I could have you once more
Not only as my lover
but also as my friend

Pete King May 2017

I'm ten-thousand things,
And I'm ten-thousand people.
Ten-thousand things that make up a me.

Sometimes I'm happy,
Sometimes not so much,
Sometimes I'm somewhere in-between.

We - as people - are all made up,
Of an uncountable amount of elements.
Always twisting and changing
Recreating, rearranging,
It's no surprise that sometimes,
We change like the weather.

Sometimes I'm sad,
Sometimes I'm neurotic,
Borderline psychotic, on the cusp of insane.

You're ten-thousand things,
You're ten-thousand people,
And I love every one just the same.

Bittersweet Apr 2017

I’ve read a thousand books
And walked a thousand halls
I’ve gazed into a thousand mirrors
And I have scorned them all
I’ve smiled a thousand times
In a thousand different ways
I’ve learned a thousand things
On a thousand different days
A thousand different rivers
A thousand different rests
A thousand different lives i've lived
And a thousand different deaths

Throughout my thousand journeys
And my thousand lonely tears
Nothing can compete
With my single, solitary fear

This was my entry poem
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