Holiday Music – A Poem by G. S. Katz
The best thing about the holidays
Is January 2nd, when the annoying holiday music in the supermarket
ends and we go back to sincere elevator music…
modern poetry online
Manege | Sanjeev Sethi
Altering metaphors
of existence are
the wanderer’s primer
for survival.
Joy of journeying
doesn’t lie in witnessing
what’s lighted upon,
which larder is laid bare
but where it’s taken to.
Some distances
are worth stalking,
as they oust us
from ourselves.
Just Haiku | Nancy May
on the sea shore
home for the hermit crab
in my trainer
a sea of red
beneath my toes
lines of the dead
a leafless tree
dreams of spring
scents of blossom
a leafless branch
stood on the doorstep
a policeman
April morning
in the coolness of a breeze
scents of blossom
sunset-
don’t give up little bird
follow the trail of light
cobweb-
be brave now fly
here comes the spider
Mount Everest
how tall! climb safely
little ladybird
autumn morning
on a bed of brown
I watch leaves settle
taking care
a ladybird climbs
Mount Everest
in the cold here I am
waiting for someone
to take me home
a leafless tree
with no leaves to blow
sways in the breeze
More at https://twitter.com/Haikuintraining.
Love Is… | Ajise Vincent
a wooden flute
whose note mud
coils of war.
a wheelchair
to cripple emotions
that can’t tread to affection’s market.
an antidote
to dreams that
have been kissed by the cobra.
a kola nut
that dies so as to pass peace
to the conscience of warring-kings.
a town crier
that adumbrate riddles of truth
to the ears of mortals.
a balm of the present
to massage
pangs of yore.
Love is simply life.
The Speed of a Polar Bear | Ricky Garni
A polar bear can run up to speeds of 24.8 miles an hour.
That is what my friend Alexa told me. Who would think
a polar bear could run that fast? You can ride your auto beside
its running form, just make sure that your speed never drifts
below 24.8 miles an hour. 25, just to be on the safe side.
By the way, Alexa is not really my friend. She is more like
a computer that looks like a can of soup at a funeral.
Age – A Poem by Josh Heaton
An elderly gentlemen sits in front of me on the train
In fine, red braces and a tweed hat the colour of marshland after rain.
He is concerned.
He left his coat at Derby station and is going to collect it.
A normal man of average age is more self-assured than this OAP.
A normal man with a boring job and nothing to see
Not even red braces
It’s like when people get old,
Right before they’re about to die,
They realise they don’t know anything. They have nothing to be confident of.
They have lived fascinating, breath-taking, heart-stopping, totally forgettable lives.
We’ve reached Derby now and red looks back at me,
Mouth slightly open and with a long strand of loose hair poking from under his hat.
I smile.
I’m young. I’m only just beginning to know everything.
He is anxious and I am stupid and ignorant.
I hope he finds his coat.
Full Height – A Poem by JD DeHart
She used to sit in the corner
rocking in her old-style chair,
an antique they brought in so
she could play her domestic role,
pretending to know how to knit
the results were knotted
chunks of twigs and twine
they, in turn, pretended they might
one day attempt to wear
while she cradled herself
back and forth, the family thought,
My, how tiny
but then she began to flail
her arms one day and burst
the chair into splinters
and revealed her true height.
Oleander Dreams | Judy Moskowitz
Last night I dreamed a story from the edge
a cluster headache of events that would not end
I sketched the outline tipping a memory jar
forgive and forget
the holy thing to do but I’m not holy
I’m flawed like you
seeking revenge through the depths of deep dreams
surrounded by a garden of Oleanders just for you
Secular Heart – A Poem by G. S. Katz
Somewhere between the last of the quality bourbon
Then praying with the Irish single malt of character
Lies my jaded heart awash in the glory of self
No religion ever gave me that
Cheers
Amen