Praying | Ananya S. Guha
ask if heavens can come tumbling, cock crow
dawn at its height
night low, turn around in bed
planning the day
take a shot gun
down a bird
gulp a beer and then pray
plan the next day
dawn. pray.
contemporary poetry
blood fellows behind me from my knees | L Lawliet
i one time ponder why i cant stand on my own two legs all the time i often contemplate why my knee’s are so weak that i speak these words for all to be heard.
i look down at my weak knee’s , i say why are you so weak when i have all this power , strength to keep from falling on you my knee’s.
i hear them say its cause you drag us , pull us thru your life walking on us unaware of the blood you trail , leave behind you we are blood soaked knee’s.
i ask them why do you not stand , drip less blood they reply because we cant stand if you don’t walk i reply but walking thru life is the hardest part.
they tell me we are blood soaked knee’s to stop the blood you must stand tall , carry yourself better , be strong for everyone not just you.
i then reply why must i stand if i cant even walk or even find the courage to speak , talk my words of my own mind .
they reply if you don’t stand you cant turn around , see everyone the blood trails of us blood soaked knee’s we cover them in our blood you must turn around , see the blood so you can stand tall , stop the blood.
i reply i don’t know how to stand they then proceed to tell me grab the hands of those we blood soaked knee’s have behind you soaked in our blood , they well help you stand .
i reply but what if my mind body , heart are weaker then me , wanna drop to tho blood soaked knee’s they reply those people behind , in front of you well strengthen those parts of yourself so you can see them , hear them , have the strength to grab there hands , stand tall.
they then reply that’s how you stand tall just don’t try to do it alone i smile some one what , slowly see my friends lovers , family behind me , reach out my long reaching arms to grasp there’s , pull me up , then i know i’m not walking on bloody knee’s but healing knee’s
More at http://lrueryuzaki.deviantart.com/journal/blood-fellows-behind-me-from-my-knees-L-459678072.
Love Is Everything | Raquel Averill
Love is everything
Love is all
Love is the thing that gets you up in the morning
Sustains you through the night
Provides sustenance to your soul
Fill your life with it
Enjoy its wonderful bounty
Relish it
Without love there is nothing
And it starts with you
Discovery (A Found Poem- Based on a Newspaper Report) | Ananya S. Guha
An artist was murdered together with her lawyer
bargaining for more to sell property. The haves and the have nots, who wanted to be haves, met the bodies were found
when the garbage man spotted a leg. A mere leg jutting across flesh
and bones, life and death. Three are being questioned, or four
including the one who discovered the jutting leg sticking gelatinously out of a bag or box.
This is what he gets for his discovery?
Prod. Tox | Raven Van Blizz
A place filled with toxicity.
Influence speaks with fluency.
Flaws are under scrutiny.
Opinions are mutiny.
Gossiping is trendy
and always up to date.
Colleagues are user-friendly,
greedy and full of hate.
If only I could stay at home
with no worries or headache, I would.
But it would be best to stay calm
while in this place, for family’s sake.
More at https://allpoetry.com/poem/14700698-Prod.-Tox-by-Raven-Van-Blizz.
Bad Neighbors | Olga Lundquist
if there is something
they can do to bother
everyone around
they’ll do it
not caring about anyone
else than themselves
unable to see that they
aren’t the only ones
living in this place
it never ends
consistently and
constantly rude and
obnoxious
it would be great if
they would move somewhere
far away where they
could make all their
noise and be awful
to their heart’s content
bad neighbors
Time's Burden | Satish Verma
I am not too well, he felt.
The flames chased him in charred landscape.
Fighting over, he pondered about the
crime within, the surge to find a nest hole.
A wounded pride where the salmonella hits.
You enter a slot for more enticements.
Any patch of vague tragedy among the barren
desirability, shares the accident with sacrifice.
Unhappy, you reverse the mode of retrieving
against the terms of swimming alone.
Where was the death’s arc to capture
the mistakes of life? Was an archaism
sufficient to kill the untruth? No implant
will enhance the height of achievement.
More at http://www.anmolbol.com/poems.