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Shadow Play – A Poem by Shelley Nutting

We have gathered
on the hillside
this Autumn eve,
enjoying the brisk
air that lifts
our spirits,
like kites
soaring and spiralling
in the dying light.

The waning Sun
has carved our
silhouettes
into stick men.
Shadow puppets
performing
an impromptu drama
and
even as we turn
to leave…
we remain

captured

in the artist’s eye
by lens
and whirring shutter.

Immortal image
of shadow
and golden light

Best Poetry Online-A Poetry Website Featuring Poems by 21st Century Poets

Sentimental Criminal – A Poem by Jaylee Davis

Her guilty fingers
Alcohol that lingers
With a touch as soft as daisies
Her mental strength weak and hazy
A psychotic vixen
Ears that just don’t listen
Now as she sits here and stares in the mirror
The image of her disoriented mind is clearer
She glances down at the knife
Saturated with his blood, they are sure to give her life
But she has no regrets
She takes out her lighter and cigarettes
Inhale the gray clouds
And blow them right through her nose and think about her vows
Till death do us part
They were both dead but one had no heart

Best Poetry Online-A Poetry Website Featuring Poems by 21st Century Poets

Watching You – A Poem by G. S. Katz

Like to watch you
In the morning
Getting out of bed
Stretching
Nude
Your graceful form
Years of dance classes
The slope of your breasts
Your beautiful neck
The arch of your back
Legs contoured and shaped
It is a thing of beauty
Your grace
And Spirit
Then clothes and coffee
Your special brew
We sip and talk
Then out the door
A quick peck on the lips
You heading North
While I go West
Smiling…

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El Torero Cabaret – A Poem by Richard William Kirkpatrick-Thorne

Heavy UpOn The Shoulders,
A Mountain Giant,
And From WithIn The Dominion Of Its Skull,
All Wet And Bundled Into A Carriage Of Blankets,
The Grit And Dew…


Up Above The Slope And Grade,
To The One-Eyed In Recluse And Wool,
Picking At The Meat Left In Fugal Wicker,
When At Leisure Not By The Heated Of Discussion,
Resting Its Head By A Grinding Brook…

When Alerted By Snouted Draft,
It Learns To Lean Back UpOn The Nearly Deaf,
A Minute For Depressions Left To ReMind,
For It To Organize InTo Romantics…

Chocolately Enticeing To The Immigrant,
Whose Lines Lead Out From Places Of Plantains To Tambourines,
Surrounding All States To Surrender,
Mothers Hurriedly Takeing Those Whites Off …


These Days Be As Enveloped As Be Stamped,
Cleaner Than The Ways Of Older Pushes,
Loyal To The Swerve…

A Riposte Over The Bulge,
Answering To The Trickle-Down,
InTo The Coded Cork…


For Twins… InTwine… In Trust To Be Not With Sleep’s Brother,
As Those Of Lacking Be Respected In Age…

Though It Be Only Performed In Etiquette,
Never True To The Cutlery… And Seldom Seen Parrying With The Cloth.

More at http://rwkt.blogspot.ca.

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Lust – A Poem by G. S. Katz

I love to lust
It defines me
Without lust
There is no me
Vacated
Lost
Barren
Desire is always
On my radar
Come to me
Take my hand
Follow me to bliss
With moonlight
To illuminate our path

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Earthly Spirits and Fear – A Poem by P.K. Deb

Quite a wrangling time it was,
“Hunt or be hunted” was popular,
while two man-made spirits fell in love
and took an oath to live together for ever
in the witness of the rising sun.
A cool breeze of emotion and instinct flew in,
made the people pregnant instantly
and a chilled “Fear” was born in hot mind,
ensnared them to be upside down
to shed down the black belongings.
The protruded eyes conducted a quick survey
of the border-line of dignity to look within,
the flying legs returned to their base
and started marching on the given track,
the long and sharp nailed fingers hid
in the safe- shelter of grip in hurry,
the night-wings rooted out the blood-sucking teeth
and the ghosts joined in the hustle at the doors
of the saloons and beauty-parlours
to change themselves into angels and fairies.

Thus, “Fear”- the blessing of the earthly spirits
solicited a cyclone and the evil–dirt was washed off,
along with the next rising sun–
the ground-floor was uplifted to the top-floor.

Of late, just a story it is to a grandson
who experiences a win in shooting competition
against an un-updated pair of spirits
maybe, over-burdened with the stacks of ages.
May God rejuvenate and empower the spirits
with the same winning weapons
as they could use before against the rivals.

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Free Matadors – A Poem by P.K. Deb

Be careful, the silent matadors are approaching again
Succeeding a suffocating life of long captivity.
They are ruinous and free of moral chain,
Hence, invincible to invade our sensibility.

Responsible they are, for wars and blood-shedding,
Capable of mincing integrity in a moment,
Compelling us to bow down to their heartless lading
And their freedom can make us morally indigent.

Either we are foolish or over-optimist in thinking,
Lunatic to discover a reciprocal state of freedom
And block head as intellectual feelings are shrinking
To realise the consequences of over- optimism.

All the noses, the suspicious critics may sneer,
The babbling tongues may become more sensible,
In shame the faces may catch with fire
But the shameless eyes glitter and remain accessible.

A rudimentary society of the previous earth
May uncover the freedom of Homo sapiens,
They were set free because of the dearth
Of sunlight, reformative knowledge and emotions.

Slowly light started flourishing with civilizations
To measure everything by their importance
And captivity was started by the rules and regulations
To resist the matadors and their bitter sequence.

Alas, again they are made absolutely chainless,
We, the hilarious, break all the fences of dignity
And the overconfident bring only the darkness
Of hurry-scurry decision to enjoy care-free liberty.

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