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Featured Poetry: Week Ending Sunday, October 05, 2014
Below are this week's featured poems. Congratulations to our featured poets. Poems are rotated each day in groups of 14-18 to give each poem an equal opportunity to be displayed. Those who post a lot of poetry and actively comment on the poetry of others are more likely to have their poetry featured. The only guaranteed way to be featured is to become a Premium
Click on the numbered navigation below to navigate though all of the featured poems.
All the types
from Folk to Polka,
Tango, Rumba, Samba,
Waltz to Square,
Cha Cha, Mambo, Twist ,
Tap, Jazz, Rock.
Ballroom Proms to Backyard Parties,
Late Night Dives and Quite Evenings.
Steps that Jump, Slide Skip and Hop,
And then some motion stops.
Then we go INTERPRETIVE
Can I hold your hand?
Just until your smile returns?
Promise not to hold too tight
In case you feel smothered
A hint of the tears you shed
Still visible – a testimony of your pain
Your wall went up again
I can feel it; you pushing at it
Pushing every one away
I will not feel wounded
I will not force you to talk
I know you need your space
Can I hold your hand?
Until your smile returns
A son desires – requires a little of the fires –
that some fathers places upon funeral pyres.
Lost to ghostly shadows prowling the hallways of ones mind.
Catching glimpses of, drifting past the corners of, one will find
little in them, of substance to tell one just what kind
of man – this man called dad – was / is and no sign
that a day will come, when his light, his essence will define
for ones aging soul, the empty places left in the passing of time.
I wonder about my Daughters, will they dig deep into the past ?,
for the gold, find fools gold ?, find stories untold, having passed
into history and into their presence, as part of the whole ?
Will I become fodder for a funeral pyre ?, or buried in a hole ?
B. J. “A” 2
April 1st 2004
I remember 20:
Aflame with ideas and visions,
A mind unfettered by necessity's constraints,
Spirit open to everything -
Tomorrow held no fears,
Yesterday no regrets;
There was only day following day,
Each new and with something to give,
And each corner I turned
Led down a new road
Where the joy was ever in the going,
With a horizon impossibly far and bright.
Do you still see that youth somewhere inside
When I gaze on you, Love,
As I still see that girl with the laughing eyes
Who ran down those roads with me?
That was our dreaming-time,
The cloudcastle years
When we could scarcely bear
The brightness of our own being.
The wonder of the world embraces the young,
And they return the embrace,
But like the children they so recently were,
They are distracted, and break away
Enticed by the next marvel
Peaking 'round the corner.
A part of us yet runs there, Love;
Running and running
Through the endless light.
I remember 30:
Young parenthood, responsibilities.
We showed them all the light we could,
Let them run into it and find their ways.
Small voices grew to sound like our own;
Busy days and nights fly past
Like leaves blown out of the grasp of their trees,
Tumbling, mixing, moving on
Until at last the bigger voices went off on their own,
Running down new roads
Chasing their own marvels.
Now and again they return,
And we share our found treasures
And fondly laugh together
At Youth's follies and discoveries
And sigh within
At the beautiful light.
This was the time when we were Fortune's Fools,
And proud and happy to be.
I remember 40:
The time of Action
The time of Challenge.
This is the time we found our strength,
Though it was sometimes purchased with pain.
This was the time of lessons,
Some of them hard.
This was also the age of flowing friendships -
Some growing, some degenerating, most holding stable,
Especially, of course, the good old ones,
The ones that stretch to childhood, and go on stretching still.
And finally, also our era of finding out:
Our spouses really are our best friends
How relative time truly is
Why learning to Just Accept pays off
Where the foci of our lives need to be
When to roll over and when to dig in
Who's a Friend and who's a Face.
The forties were something special.
So now we stand in the middle 50s.
Less ahead than behind, for sure.
Youth is still not quite out of reach,
But age is on the horizon and beckoning.
Has Age brought wisdom along?
I think yes, but she's holding back,
Not saying much just yet.
Now the light has begun to slant;
There are decades to go,
But the afternoon has come on,
The hot day is cooling ...
Sunset is gathering into its birth,
I know where we are now.
I know who we are now.
We walk the shore and look ahead,
Knowing that after sunset comes the dawn again,
After a little rest in the starland between
As go the hours, the days, the years,
Pulled out, away into the great Unknown.
Now we walk together towards that sunset
And all the mysteries waiting there.
Together we shall find them all,
And when we reach the last, the Greatest,
I expect to turn and find again
That girl with the laughing eyes beside me,
Ready to run, and run, and run.
Life in an instant, a blip
A rockets fuel cylinders spent
Through the vastness of time, a footprint
In the grand scheme of things, just a dent
Still unique to this planet, perhaps universe
So self aware, blessing or curse
To know you're so small, yet potential so great
Live life with love, throw away hate
Care for the poor, hungry mouths fill
Don't live with regret, that most bitter pill
Reach out, feel, care and give
Fulfill this limited time we live
Greed and envy will not satisfy
Or fill the void you're hiding inside
The truest reward, goes beyond earthly realm
Travel to Heaven with God at the helm
I can’t wait to see what you want
What do you want God?
What do you want for me?
I don’t know what you want
I don’t know what you want of me
But I know I can do it
Because you gave me everything I need
I miss you more than sky is blue
Piercing sunlight from beyond;
Days made old and mind anew
My weariness like a song:
When up is down too many few
Tightropes when you’re gone.
Needing you more than oceans deep
Currents in the flow;
Wide awake or drifting sleep
Lying in pure snow:
If I should die my soul to keep
Wherever you may go.
Remember me when I have sailed
To that far away world of dreams;
Think well of me though I have failed
From time to time it seems:
While upon my ship I’ll man the rails
In search of your endless lighthouse beam.
a cycle in eight parts
with a slightly criminal coda
copyright T.H.A. Hassan,
the ZKH Foundation for Holistic Human Development
18 Mohammad Saleh Street, Dokki, Cairo, EGYPT
tel/fax 20 2 37491481
I - the thing
the thing the thing the thing!
oh the thing
the thing is IT
the thing and nothing but the thing
long live the thing
hurrah for the thing
what is the thing?
the books say
the thing is ......THE THING
and the wisdom of the ages
worn out pages cages museum pieces masterpieces THE THING
the thing IS
the thing is our SALVATION permutation castration
the thing is the isness that is not before the essence of
the meaningfulness of reason before
existence existing apple cart before the apple
donkey before the horse cart
after the equi-histamopholous oblong
wheel was invented
THE THING IS MYSTERIOUS
the thing the thing the thing
oh the thing what is the thing?
LET US SPEAK ABOUT THE THING
let us read
let us write
LET US FIGHT
about the thing
for a month
or ninety eight
or eighty four
the thing the thing the thing
oh the thing
sh sh sh sh sh sh sh sh sh sh sh
Kara wesha wesha wesha
wesha wesha wesha wesha
wesha wesha wesha wesha
LET US SPEAK
what is the fashion today
the thing the thing the thing
oh the thing
what is the fashion with IT
The stars quickly dim,
taking their place behind stretching clouds,
as the allure of night fades
and the lamp of the world switches on.
Morning's scent steals grace from sleeps convalescent ether,
rousing hearts and minds from delusional dreams,
to don their disguise of a million lies,
reassembling, to suffer again daily.
And each tick of the clock, mimics the hum of my pulse,
as I sit with head in hands, holding on to my shattering sanity.
For in the light of day, truth is easily seen
in this house, that is not a home;
where the silence unfolds to surround me,
like solitary prison walls.
So aimlessly, I walk throughout the day,
heart wrapped in strands of tender; frayed,
always one beat away from surrender;
anxiously timid, awaiting yet another shoe to fall,
keeping to this intimate isolation,
for this world has proved incapable of trust.
But oh when the night comes, and the blind moon rises,
taking its rightful place in the sky,
I lovingly stand within her sliver rain, and the
subliminal foreplay emanating from stars.
Inside the darkness, shadows span to fill the emptiness
and my consciousness gives way to blurry visions,
staining these eyes with the presence of you.
And its moments like this, I have come to cherish;
when this sensory state of existence,
exonerates me from misery’s melody,
deafening its sound in the hours of midnight suede.
You who sexless heard the pounding of the sex
nerves conditioned to the tune
through all the slushy push of distending flesh
in the ooze slime of semen ******l fluid
Your eyes turned inward
heart brimming to the flush
fed by your central runaway generator
your frail limbs were hardly sketched
in the clasp of a Reichian curve
through all the terrifying pounding
More terrifying still
Now YOU see the crook of the aborting metal
the surgeon's staff
dig into your behind
the gossamer sack of your promised dream world
avoiding at every thrust
the inevitable dismemberment
charred chicken wings coming apart in cinders
JOLT of the bend in the crook
your eyes to the back of you
a ninja without arms or legs
flying in the face of crookish metal
by the grit of your teeth
FIRST your spine goes
shrivelled skin over mashed bone and marrow
the nerves a calligrapher's skein
vaguely stretched over your incumbent's drawn face
TILL your seminal fluid
stains the blood
splashing through every thrust
of the abortionist's clinical will
YET you resist
STILL clinging to your umblical chord
the silent screams of your unformed mouth
reaching no where
the mother sprawled on the trolley etherised
In the distance a faraway distance
a vague throbbing
away from prying eyes
a ringing call unanswered
and you let go...
see your will turned to mash
Only your long sleep nurtured your dream
a singular dream of a snuffed world
YOU HADN'T EVEN BREATHED
© T.Wignesan 1992 (March 10, 1992)
[from the collection: back to background material, 1993]
On seeing an ecography of an abortion on the FR3 French TV programme: "La Marche du siècle: Contraception et avortement", March 4, 1992 at 20.40 hours. Professor Etienne Baulieu, the inventor of the oral abortive pill, was the guest of honour.
Oh, how it is so much fun
All having been given a choice
You can hear it in their voice
As we all dance and play in the sun
The there are many who shall turn and run
Living a continuous life of evil
End the end it will only bring upheaval
In truth their virtue, they have none
With the sun in the forceps
Of an ageless night,
The bells at the lighthouse toll
Until they are merely sterile
Occasionally, a ghostly whisper
Validates and dissects
Each tear, each truth.
I can't imagine their loneliness-
watching light burn
Until it is as small as a flea,
While we endure engulfed
Principals of refuge
One last song for the wicked
One last song and a cigarette
I see you standing in the back
Forming a silhouette
One last song for the really weird
One last song and a big cigar
I see you dancing by yourself
Wondering who you are
One last song for the wild at heart
One last song for you my dear
I see you crying in the dark
Clinging to a beer
Wish you would dance like gods
Like the devil's at your heels
Show your partner all the moves
And tell the devil how it feels
I’ve misplaced my phone,
no I haven’t, I’ve lost it.
It’s nowhere in my home
and no matter where I look, I can’t come across it.
You’ve probably done similar things like that before
like leaving your car keys inside your car,
and then locking yourself outside your car door.
I lost my phone, wallet and cash within the course of a week
and then suddenly it hit me like an unexpected rain.
This is my unprofessional conclusion to all of my confusion,
Schizophrenia Sympathy Pain.
Much like the loved ones who witness the terms of pregnancy of their beloved,
they often experience sympathy pregnancy pains as if it were real.
When it comes to Sympathy Pain, Schizophrenia also has it covered.
IT got a huge helping of the Sympathy Pain deal.
I used to watch my poor son, stricken with this horrible thing,
pacing and laughing and talking without a care.
He seemed so happy and this picture would be perfect, if not for one thing.
He was carrying on with someone who just wasn’t there.
One day I happened to accidentally videotape myself.
I forgot that my camera was still recording me, but all just the same,
I once again caught a glimpse of my ailing mental health.
More Schizophrenia Sympathy Pain.
There I was just like he, rambling on endlessly,
talking out loud to no one. I was home all alone
and as if in a competitive race, just like he I would pace
with vocalized imagined conversations of my own.
Even though I realize that I was just talking aloud to myself,
and that unlike he, I was always aware, no one else was there.
Still, Schizophrenia Sympathy Pain creeps up on me with the greatest of stealth.
Schizophrenia Sympathy Pain will always be my cross to bear.
Schizophrenia Sympathy Pain will always haunt me and continue to remain
While My Son suffers with REAL Schizophrenia Pain.
on the belly
in the lungs
of the foolish
because nobody else
and their situation
on the back
or clever failure
than “My Desktop”
but not as much
as a child
or like a garden
in latter years
with sports injuries
my only hope
I’ve enough sense
to use it
I have made some revisions as of the 24th Jan. Again thanks to you all for reading and now for tweeting this piece.
Maple and Cherry Oak
a new wardrobe.
Lavender & Lilacs.
what we despise
as dreams drown.
Twenty branches above
percussion solos begin
between wings while
lead singers gather on
of music notation.
as the ocean above
What is Poetry
Poetry is a careful, inventive, or creative consideration of words written in order to convey some thought as a literary composition. Usually, but not always, the words written are designed to evoke emotion. Poetry can manifest itself as a two-word phrase or a one thousand-page book. Related terms: abecedarius, Alcaic, Alcaic
verse, ballad, ballade, blank
verse, canto, elegy, epic, epic
poem, epos, free
verse, haiku, lament, lay, line
of poetry, line
of verse, literary
work, lyric, lyric
rhythm, prosody, rhyme, rhythmic
pattern, rime, rondeau, rondel, sonnet, stanza, tanka, terza
libre, verse, verse
line, versicle. Submit Poems.