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Haircut 1972 – A Poem by G. S. Katz

I was a long haired hippie freak back in the day
But the parental units were hassling me all summer
So to please them I went to the barber and chopped it all off
A moment of pleasing and 12 months of regret

Hair to a guy back then was his freak flag
Defiance on top, long and flowing, rich and bountiful
Decades later in lieu of hair we have our shadow beards
In place of what was on our head is now on our face

The freak flag is still in my heart
The glory and wonder and the idyllic hope
Like that day in my convertible racing against the wind
Hair blowing back, speed, radio loud, was all I needed

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My Dear Purple Flower Tree – A Poem by Naduni

I didn’t know your name
But I knew you were always there
Shedding continuous purple
Onto the green velvet carpet
That kissed the lovers’ feet
Being no lover myself
I’ve never trodden any of your purple
Sinews
So, I believe I have never caused you any
Pain
I observed them, watched them morning and evening
Digging, drilling, spitting, sweating
Exhausting you
Then manifesting their deepest cruelties
Filled with soil the little slope of your abode
Half covering your graceful curves
And distorting your grandeur
Now they have stopped
But left the spot in such a shabby, muddy
And chaotic condition
That no lovers come any more under you
You are no more romantic for them
Don’t worry dear,
Lovers do change
They are the most susceptible for change
Being no lover myself
I know I have not changed
You are still romantic for me
So I still do not tread your purple sinews
And I believe I don’t cause you any
Pain

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

Man is Beast – A Poem by G. S. Katz

6am
Spooning
Stimulated against morning light
Don’t push me away
You know I’m not leaving
I take your hand
And make you feel the throb
The heartbeat of my lower brain
Strategic morning passion
Where man is beast
and you are prey

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Issues with People – A Poem by G. S. Katz

I am a person
But I don’t like people
I pay my bills on time
Hold doors for women
I have good manners
But people get on my nerves
Maybe it’s the aging process
Or something worse
Stay out of my way
Unless you bring good cheer
I wish it were different
Dogs YES, People No
The lone wolf has spoken
Have a nice day

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A Journey – A Poem by P.K. Deb

A journey
down to the earth–
the most common and compulsory
for a life to enjoy or suffer,
yet, only one wheeler is provisioned to travel
in quest of more and more wheels to add
on the signal of the rise and set of the sun
with many beckoning hands and eyes.

In the vast course of journey,
plains, hills and mountains are trampled,
rivers, seas and oceans are steered,
elephants and whales are made upside down,
ants and insects experience a combing-search,
the Hell and the Heaven are used in weight-lifting,
and more and more wheels are added
one by one to the vehicle for its smooth acceleration.

Maybe, nearby or far away,
the destination waits eagerly for the vehicles
Some are well skilled and lucky–
able to reach the destination–
chatting simultaneously with the wind,
make the journey a grand success.

May God help the ill-skilled and the sick-fated
who get lost somewhere else
far away from the determined destination.
Alas! The blissfulness of
the destined is temporary too,
as time passes- moment by moment
so rust of the End invades the wheels- particle by particle,
spares, at last, one single wheel to go back there
where from it came in at the very outset.

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Alternative Healing Of Heart – A Poem by P.K. Deb

The long-term illness of my wife
pours instantly a course of cursed ink
on my painting–
painted efficiently and magnificently
with colourful paints
imported from my dreamland,
compels my three entities–
body, mind and soul to sink down to
the depth of bottomless ocean of fire
and snatches the fire extinguisher too,
used in extinguishing my burning heart–
set ablaze by the evil attitudes of
society, profession, politics and religion.
Alas! The burning heart is helpless
and driven blindly towards the heaps of ashes
with no escaping reverse gear.
Nevertheless, my strong will-power is bestowed
with a green signal
and I find myself submerged in the heap of
pen and papers
and blissful somehow in writing something new
about my old misfortune,
and my injured heart gets healed alternatively
by white papers with colourful pens.

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This Is Not Easy – A Poem by Rosie

Life is never simply black and white
Never that easy
See the horses, almost white
Running in sea foam
See her eyes
The overcast nights
It is almost raining
Pregnant skies hollow with indecisiveness
Debating whether to split themselves open
Or miscarry
It is pouring now
Flooding the streets
Life is not a ladder
It is more like the cliffs
It is coloured like the limbo
Between love and leaving
When you left too soon to love me
The haze when I’m off it
When you’re not around
Inside my head the waves are churning
The horses are running
This is a hurricane
You are not quite a disaster
But darling I wish you were.

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