Moment | Mónika Tóth
Love..
A short moment
In…time.
Don’t waste it…
It’s the only one you have.
Best Poetry
Censorship | Baris Semerci
surfing internet
reluctant self censorship
rewritten poems
sarcastic sense of humour
hidden in innocent words
More at https://twitter.com/hwl76/status/1170299695702454272.
Love of a Poetess | Nadia Umber Lodhi
You are love of a poetess, my beloved,
Reflects from my words ever,
Forget you never,
My passion increases ever,
My Love decreases never,
You are love of a poetess, my beloved
You are the Magic of a words magician,
You are the business of a pain earner,
I shall write departure, loneliness and tears,
I shall describe fears,
And earn income.
You are love of a poetess, my beloved
I shall sell dreams, earn profit,
How can I gain loss,
No Never, my dear
I sold my heart, my dear
One and Only wealth I have.
More at https://www.poemhunter.com/nadia-umber-lodhi/biography/.
Stop the Rain | Envein
The girl i loved left me just the other day. My visions and dreams have all been taken away. Leaving me with grief and sorrow to bear. Life ain’t easy and love isn’t fair.
My tears are falling like the rain
Clouding my visions of tomorrow
Darkened skies add to the pain
No I’ll never love again
If i could only stop the rain
No Relief in Sight | Envein
My life is like a tunnel and I’m searching for an end. Walking in the darkness alone without a friend. Looking for an answer, searching for some light. I cant escape the misery. There’s no relief in sight.
Bad Apples | Ralph Monday
Anachronisms are like bad apples
in a medieval painting of the garden.
A portable typewriter with broken keys,
a 1956 tubed radio without batteries,
a grandmother corseted, grim.
Past relics voicing thin gramophone tongues,
mechanical ghosts groaning machine tones
from a junkyard underworld with no human
to wind their guts; they, like the war-born
grandmother, cry out to the digitals for
permanence.
Instead, wither, decay, while the new human
thumbed instruments buries the old.
—
Ralph Monday has had over 200 poems published in literary journals and online literary sites. A chapbook, All American Girls and Other Poems was recently published, and a book Lost Houses and American Renditions is forthcoming from Hen House Press.
Slums; All Years | Jim Bellamy
slums, all years; and the stars which rise
console you if they would. words are said
which sully with fears their fled disguise.
and the night must blood the lunacies it lives.
to these faceless passions, i make word thief:-
even so distant, i can taste the grief,
bitter and sharp with stalks, he made you gasp.
and the mind must bury the metronomic strides
of the dark and black; and these daily tides
of the dead and dreamt must shorten faith.
the sinuous glide of this thoughtless wraith
will live, or else no ruling schemes begun?
lightning strikes too many mourning times
against this clock and its xerox chimes.
More at https://jimbellamy.simplesite.com.