social interaction poems

Darkly, the Heart | James Diaz

That I might stay kind
even when I want to bite,
put my sword down
and not worry how unprotected
I’ve become to the wounds
others would lay on me,
lay them on me
if that’s what it takes to live on top,
in the right,
lay them deep because I will dig deep,
when I pull your broken blade,
in pieces, out of myself,
I bring love up with it,
however frail and temporary.
That I might be all that I cannot possibly be.
That I at least try.
That you at least know.
It can be done.

Pleaser | JD DeHart

Melt the chain, let it
wholly unravel, snip
the cord, bite off
the comment.
Pleaser no more.
Standing in the face
of condescending
email, withering
expression of distaste,
no longer struggling
with worry about
the letter grades other
mortal beings form.
No longer straining
to reach A plus.

How the Day Went… | Dan Tindall

(How the day went from the blissful early morning to sweeping sunset, without pause or patter, without sugar or smoke, without the benefit of a sudden departure from the script.)
We boarded the caravan some little time ago
One door each way
Frosted glass panels
Dim light from outside
Illuminating the drab nylon covers
On the grey chairs
– These magazines are about 100 years old
– The pages are stuck together on this one
– That must be for gentlemen only
She stares at the clock
She looks beautiful in this pale light
Cheekbones lifting her face
From the doldrums of approaching middle age
– What are you looking at?
– You
– Well stop it, it’s annoying
Once upon a time
She wanted nothing more than my adoration
But now she has grown bored of me
Up she gets
Swift
Fluid
Animal
To the door
Raps her fist on the surface
Hard
Twice
And again
It sounds curiously flat
There’s no sound from without
Again
Again
On the table there’s a magazine
‘Bliss’
I pick it up
Pleased to find it’s not sticky
It has stories of human tragedy
Heart-warming reunions
Cute photos of people’s kids
Doing cute kid stuff
She is called
And then gone
And beyond the limit of this horizon
I am surprisingly early
For an appointment
Of my own

More at http://www.dantindall.com.

Muddled Up | Chris Byrne

Mixed feelings
Misconceptions
Text messages
Hiding
Wanting to say
Being honest
Hurting as speaking
Unknowing
Should I say?
Will I regret?
If I don’t
I will.

Popularity Contest | Kara D. Spain

If you’re not willing to gloat,
take a plunge in the sewage moat,
of social media and its sarcastic jabs,
then you’d best believe, you’ll never nab
a top spot among the forum hounds –
you’ll become nothing more, than a background.

Lovers | Ananya S. Guha

In between
there is nowhere
only masks swirl around
this nothingness
gazes fall as shadows
only nothing remains
biting teeth, gnarled hands
and the music lover
who sings to desperation.
Cafe movements
lights blue, red, yellow
someone drinks the red wine,
one more.
The music drools
so do lovers.

Truths and Lies | Pragati Gupta

Shirtless truths can be as convincing
As draped lies
Here where electricity
In cities is drained
For romance and a tête-à-tête
On a cosy couch with danish cookies
At a well-walled tea party.
The lies here uttered
Are tobacco to your lungs,
In vogue and considered classy
Among them
Cancering the kernel,
The kernel of exaction
In a dissertation of life.
—–
Pragati Gupta is a masters student in English in the University of
Calcutta after her bachelors from Loreto College, Kolkata. An avid
reader and poet, she desires to pursue her career in academics.

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