Last – A Poem by J. Ash Gamble
This is the last poem
I will ever write.
Too tired of the verses.
Maybe I said something
worthy over the last two
years, or not.
Maybe someone else will
sling some ink in my place
as I go to rest.
modern poetry examples
Begins with a Letter – A Poem by Angelica Fuse
We could
have loved
kissed
it would have
been forbidden
judged
I could have
known your warmth
hidden cold
bad decisions
life dreams
leach places
all over now
to tell the truth
I’m glad I didn’t.
Clench – A Poem by Tempest Brew
Twist fist
power
sudden tighten
nothing
passes thru
strain feign
a grain
of sand
stuck in the sieve
leaves
a vacuum.
At a Graduation Ceremony – A Poem by Ian Fletcher
They inhabit a different reality
safe in the cocoon of their youthful world
like expectant passengers on a quay
about to embark on an endless cruise
their adult life a great ship that will sail
across oceans of possibility.
Alas, my ship has passed over those seas
and nears its final destination
that dark port at the end of the voyage
a place of twilight then eternal night.
Though these callow souls seem quite unaware
of the current’s pull that carries all there
I’ll not waste my breath to enlighten them
for of my thoughts they neither know nor care.
The Reason – A Poem by Roy Pullam
Some say fate
Some say destiny
Others say genetics
Or environment
But the final word
Comes from the judge
When he says jail
Melissa – A Poem by Roy Pullam
We danced around
The AIDS
That was killing her
She so thin
Her skin transparent
A cough
That rocked her body
A boyfriend
She loved
His indiscretion
Writing a death sentence
For her
She did not cast blame
Accepting her lot
Living with the shame
A family
Unable to accept
Unable to forgive
Citing the Bible
For the scarlet death
She would surely face
God’s punishment
For women
Who lay
Out of marriage
I hugged her gently
Knowing the frailness
The reed
That was her body
The last time
I would see her
Death at 24
Joining the other four
He so callously infected
You Are out of There Now… and the Monsters Are Far behind You – A Poem by Paul Tristram
As far away as early childhood.
The stream by that old oak tree,
a mile or two from the ‘In Between Place’
… you remember but do not miss
and will never live at again.
Like Valentine’s Day flowers
at the very bottom of last week’s bin.
Not ‘Today’s’ hangover… a different one,
already ploughed through and fixed.
The relativity lies in ‘Focus’
… and ‘That’ you can shift and change.
The past is a paddleless canoe of thought
going absolutely nowhere…
all depth and meaning,
lost to fleeting nostalgia…
you will not be circling that pattern again.
There is no retracing living footsteps,
the road ahead is forked and crooked
but, it never, ever takes you back.
You’ve trapped their memories
within the ‘Nightmares’ behind you…
whilst nailing your ‘True Colours’
to the upcoming ‘Sunshine’s Mast’.
More at http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.
Tap – A Poem by Cattail Jester
Tap you are it
Tag begin
Tap let’s play this game
I’ll begin a word
you finish the sentence
I’ll begin a plan
you smash it to bits
We will go until tired
then tap someone else.
Researched Poem | J.K. Durick
I began by brainstorming a bit
came up with a keyword and
a few modifiers, Googled them
even Yahooed ’em, before trying
them on more serious databases
Academic Search Searcher and
SelexisNexis, no end of sources
from too little to too much, so
I began interviewing the folks I
could con or corner long enough
to question, to sample, then formed
a test group to test, set up a few
experiments, watched them closely,
gathered the statistics, measured,
compared, counted, and calculated
came up with results, a thesis of sorts
an assertion to test, to write up, like this,
like now and leave here, like this, to see
if anyone reads it and then responds.
Music on the Pianoforte – A Poem by Ananya S. Guha
Origination in water
smouldering in fog
dry ashes, barren
Ogilvy’s note is on the
piano, antediluvian ways
the notes crisp, emanate
from the house
which the British made
for culture import,
my cousins played
pianoforte adroitly
only Ogilvy is not there
culture successfully
imported.
In the sitting room
the cuckoo made noises
near the wall clock
hanging. The serene Buddha, sat statuesque.
Music flows through my veins.
The house is now a boarding school, bought
by a family of musicians.
Ogilvy’s note plays on.