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Constant Weather Speak – A Poem by G. S. Katz

Will bore you to death with my flavors and toppings
Stripped down Edge nursing a broken wing
Dissecting sections of the vixen former persona
Constant weather speak till you scream

That’s what it’s gonna look like
Not Lol
Anger martini on the rocks with a twist
Waiting in the isolation tank for release

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Untitled – A Poem by C.J. Hemsley

Scars of knowledge furrow her skin
like scales on a dragon’s wing,
toughened by centuries of living.
When she speaks,
years of lessons,
no louder than a whisper,
traverse from mind to tongue.
Words, drowned
in the fragrance of wisdom,
saunter through the air
with humility like
some sort of timeless spirit
conjured up from
unblemished optimism.

She’d scroll through her
mental book of morals,
regurgitating virtuous stories
as if she were a professor of life.
And, in a sense, she was.
But, like a young bird
understanding flight,
a young mind can’t
conceptually grasp wisdom
until its been thrown from
the safe haven of its’ nest
and is falling at cataclysmic speeds.
There’s a point,
during the dissension,
that instincts kick in.

Now,
as I’ve come to age,
they’ve taken on new meanings,
perfectly coinciding with now.
She just wanted
these lessons to seep
through the thick skull God’s cursed
her grandson’s everyday with.
And, hoped that the cracks
that painted her guise
could strengthen his character.

More at http://www.about.me/C.Hemsley.

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My Mother Never Hugs Me – A Poem by Sanisha Wynter

My mother never hugs me,
but I know she loves me.
From the young age of seventeen,
she found herself with a belly full of arms and legs.
The best thing that happened to her she says,
‘I saved her life.’
When it comes to my early arrival,
there is no doubt she was blessed.
But in my earliest memories,
I don’t remember her hugging me.
She invested in my future,
teaching me the value of education.
I was her ticket out of poverty.
And my only wish was to hold her.
But by then she had my little sister,
physical attention was too much to give.
Apparently.
Books and my imagination were my friends,
the words on the page comforted me.
I grew smarter,
it’s a shame they couldn’t hold me.
Protect me and treat me like the child she never allowed me to be.
Maybe I grew up to fast,
or was it her fault?
Attempting to replace the blessings she found in me,
with yet another child.
I was pushed to the side.
Maybe that’s why my mother never hugged me.
In my teenage years,
the physical affection was still null and void.
I found solace in my pursuit of love from teenage boys.
Teenage boys,
who find it funny to fart in public.
Discovering their pleasure organ and the hearts it could break,
including mine.
Foolish to think boys could fill both my absent parents shoes.
Degrading myself because my self worth evaporated,
in my mothers beautiful brown arms.
She probably saw the dark inside of me,
a demon brewing from an early babe.
She described me as a cold child,
always something wrong with me.
Too quiet, too opinionated, too independent, too needy.
Too everything but not ordinary.
Maybe that’s why my mother never hugged me.
I sometimes wonder what it would be like,
to take a step and embrace her now as a young woman.
Just to feel what it felt like.
To know my mother’s scent,
and feel warmth.
Instead of talking to her and feeling nothing.
Feeling empty and broken but mainly confused.
I watch her hold the latest addition to our already completed
household.
She looks like a mother now.
Old and fatter, cuddly and safe.
She embraces my little brother,
with such deep affection the room begins to glow.
That fuzzy feeling, the good hot cooked food feeling.
She looks up and meets my envious eyes.
Cold again.
I feel nothing.
But I think I understand why,
the idea of my mother holding me is nauseating.
Awkward, strange and almost wrong.
Because she had me as no more than a child, she stole my innocence as
I stole hers.
A fair trade.
I believe in karma you get what you give.
Her gift to me was life, forever I shall be in debt.
So that’s why it’s okay,
that my mother never hugs me.
Because she gave her life to love me.

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Murk – A Poem by Billy JnoHope

I saw my phantom
murked in a hindsight
Smelled the ghost red
rich and empty
Failed in Brooklyn
hell of a nightmare
Woke up guilty
gunning for my conscience
Skin it before it snitches
murked it for the world to breathe
Whittle my blessings
I deserve the lesser god
Rusted dagger sawed off baptismal
separate the sun
Liberate libra apologist
Saw that bleeding when it flirted red
I could have milked it yellow
but I lusted red

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Resurrection – A Poem by Christine Emmert

The elephant ears are ready to listen,
unrolling more each day to bird’s insistent call.
The grapes promise they will come
once the rain is dried off in summer’s slow warmth.
Again my garden grows.
Poppies give way to day lilies and then
a profusion of blossoms less exclusive.
Busy insects mark off the seconds of their short life
in singing.
I have lasted through many resurrections
and many dyings of the seasons.
At night when the garden closes down
stars prevail on high, reminding me that light displaced
will find us out even in the quiet of our slumber.

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To Whom It May Concern – A Poem by Jasmina Tacheva

I thought I knew the (b)order(s)
the same routine each day
& then you came
a metal rod
in the heart of
this illusion
you brought the
deadly mechanism
to a stop
your atonality
is so seductive-
like schoenberg
or matisse
you despise the fake
harmony of life- you-
the disruptor of (b)order(s)
I hope you’re
more sane than hoelderlin
friendlier than sartre
but I guess it doesn’t matter
there are no borders
left to fight
you’re already in my heart.

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Motels with No Bibles – A Poem by G. S. Katz

the little motel with 10 rooms
no ice machines
no bibles in the room
clean sheets is all you can ask for

lunch time love
between consenting adults
45 minutes of lust
then a quick sandwich

back to the workplace
happier than before
mind wandering off
to the lunch time love affair…

Best Poetry Online-Dive into the Depths of Contemporary Voices

Spring – A Poem by Luther Seahand

The finest day of spring
Petals dance on sudden gales
Counting everyone
Before the sinking sun
Fly, fly little wings
Like love that never fails

Shadows begin to wake
To a chorus that is the night
Crickets fiddle, slow
Warblers whistle, low
Shine, shine velvet moon
Till last you fade from sight

Hear the sea in song
Where the swallows play and die
Starlight in the haze
Flicker fireflies, ablaze
Stay, stay gentle dream
Beneath the candles in the sky

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Poem – A Poem by Emma Vasquez

No questions asked, no what no why,
Rushing by no time to cry,
No care to share, or why or where,
Too complicated, to be there,
A hurried yes to keep the peace,
Longing to be the one deceased,
Not knowing how to spend the time,
Is this real? Am I fine?!
Even so, nowhere to go,
You may not see them, they’re alone,
And even if the time did come,
You sit alone just feeling numb,
Shaking hands, a quick heartbeat,
Buzzing mind, hot, feeling weak,
Impulsive thoughts not carried through,
Don’t understand, can’t think of you,
Hysterical minds pushed away,
Will deal with it another day,
It doesn’t leave it stays right there,
Hidden in darkness it’s own lair,
Forced smiles and laughs so weak,
Can’t see forward all is bleak,
Pretending all is good and well,
That you’re fine l, it’s locked in hell,
Daily business, auto mode,
Getting by, all talk in code,
A living demon locked within,
Glazed over by the thoughts of sin,
A happy soul, once again?
No quick heartbeat, no impulse pain,
All laughter, hugs and smiles so sweet,
No more tears or curled up feet,
Day to day work is done,
Telling everyone that you have won,
But secretary you die inside,
Tears fall down it’s all a lie.

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