A fleeting still small voice tries to warn me
A sudden overwhelming desire to run
The tell tale taste of metallic flakes
Means my nightmare has begun
Everything around takes on a ghostly pallor
A landscape of anguish and corrosion
A moment of silence before the violence
The flash of light, the brilliant explosion
The sound of the Sun fills my ears
Fear, my throat, though none escapes me
And paralyzed I clench my eyes
As my tormentor prepares to rape me
And it's endeavor is absolute
Consumption is its ultimate goal
It exists to chase me so it can erase me
Whilst feasting on my soul
And then that familiar salty smell
The sudden rush of warmth so stings
Engaging me relentlessly
In vile unspeakable things
Over and over and over again
My limbs stretched and wrought
As it's teeth tear my bones bare
It's mind defiles my thoughts
And still wounds beget wounds beget wounds
As in the mouth of madness I suffer
And with every injury he just seems to be
Rougher and rougher and rougher
Then just as suddenly as it began it ceases
And for a moment I am clearer
And then the true horror of it all
Is revealed in a darkly lit mirror
There in front of me stands my destroyer
Face flush with it's fill of my pain
And I find that it's eyes and mine
My God, they’re one in the same
Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2011
I do not know?
are like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps down
Their cool aftermath
cleanses me of my thoughts
of fear and uncertainty
about what tomorrows
pain may bring
They make me feel,
wet with creativity
drenched in my optimistic
raindrops, my thoughts
leave paths of pleasurable
distress, and hope of success
which road, less traveled
may be the best
Forget an umbrella
when these raindrops
arrive, I walk outside
arms open wide
Ready to Receive
the mind storm may bring
because raindrops are
as my thoughts, falling
down into my mind
sending shivers down
My brain, yearns
for the rain, to wash away
the pain, tomorrows worry
One special drop
could speed up life's clock
to the time
I can handle my own
and not dwell inside my controllers
For raindrops are,
like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps
down my spine
Copyright © Heather Hill | Year Posted 2010
Dark cumulous clouds contain
the filtered sunlight in a strange
where birds seen in silhouette
seem to think they can sing color
into this this grey day.
Mountains defined by stark dark shapes
fade into the distance as if swallowed
by fog's mysterious whiteout.
I feel encapsulated, as if inside of
a black and white photograph
that only defers to shades of grey.
© Connie Marcum Wong
March 8, 2015
Back Black and white film photography
Poetry Contest Sponsor Giorgio A. V.
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2015
If the unbearable lightness of being has pushed you to the brink of catastrophic meltdown,
walk to the edge of our flat two-dimensional existence
and take a leap of faith...
You may drift through space for quite some time
eyeing the stars, the planets, the galaxies
that make up the great and boring universe beyond.
Eventually you'll come across darker, scarier territory,
unseen with the naked eye
yet comprising 95% of all matter,
and all that matters,
otherwise known as the unconscious.
Some day you'll feel safer in the void,
With not one mirror in sight to reflect your self concept,
everything and nothing make perfect sense here,
for they are one and the same.
You are the only observer
of man's true final frontier
and his one and only mystery.
Copyright © Yoni Dvorkis | Year Posted 2009
Scurrying on my way home, a little leaf catches my eye, and I am compelled yet again to slow down.
a whirlwind of thoughts
compete with swaying of trees~
lone leaf on my shoe
I am not sure exactly when my fascination for falling leaves started, there is just something so beautiful and artistic in which they drift to the ground....I recall one particular moment in my college literature class when my professor inquired into my choice of the word "wither" in my leaf metaphor for a dying old couple.
My explanation involved telling him that for me, that particular word had a certain gracefulness to it, and that was how I saw that couple in their twilight years. But I deviate, for I merely intend to write about the interesting tree that I saw the other day. I do not know what species it is, but it bears its berry-like fruits on its branches and it has cordate leaves.
barren branches touch
newborn leaves on other side--
a paradox tree
A smile languidly forms together with my memory of seeing that same tree six days post double-faced state. It proudly donned a full crown of leaves in less than a week. With this image in mind, I can’t help but feel mystified, with the constancy and dichotomy of change….It seems like everything around me is continuously evolving, revolving. I can’t help but feel lost.
Almost in defiance to this line of thinking, I shake the leaf off my shoe, and trample on it. Instead of feeling satisfied, I feel guilt. I never did forget that Enid Blyton tale of how dried leaves were actually fairies.
littered autumn road
I stomp on the frail fallen….
my feet crushing death
Rolling my eyes with my melodramatic thoughts, I continue my walk home. It’s crazy how leaves can make me go philoloopysical. I am tempted to actually stop in the middle of the road and simply sit there—be among the trees as the wind serenades them, with the leaves swaying gently, some choosing to pirouette, some doing the salsa dip.
Being the practical person that I am, I just run my fingers along my wind-discoed hair. If it were possible, I would like to be a leaf. I find such nobility and grace to it. Imagine being able to capture light, transforming energy to create nourishment. Giving, breathing life. There is a delicate artistry with the changing of its colors—a complex, fascinating chemistry in each blade that I’m sure God is so proud of.
eyes gently follow
dying trail of withered leaf;
wind sighs its mourning
I pick up one leaf to remind me...
Copyright © binibining P.iNk | Year Posted 2015
Wheels spinning 'round
part the oil-slicked sea,
splashing damage onto new clothes.
Maniacal skeleton behind the wheel,
drives along, already dead,
killed by a futuristic ballistic check.
Sonic boom of the shot
pulls everything free,
stripping down nature to its barest form-
watching the sunrise behind his eyes,
stars fill up the lonely, hollow halls,
decked in fanciful persian rugs,
soiled by muddy shoes of movers
emptying out the boxes
before hauling them away.
Messy piles of imprints left behind,
press 'stop,' hit 'rewind' and reverse *click* *click*
esrever dna 'dniwer' tih ',pots' sserp
Wheels still spinning 'round
kick up chocking dust from
the unbeaten path of rugged minds,
blowing damage onto new clothes.
Babe of illusions behind the wheel
trying so hard to grow up really fast,
yet towering above the rest
in the form of a 2000 year-old redwood,
cut down and planked-
formed into boats
following the last and final whale song.
Empty skies are full of memories,
mind whirling faster than the shutterframe
trying to outdo a digital messiah.
MPD alchemist mixes chemicals,
transmuting greed into a beaded ring-
in an attempt to marry himself
and defy the laws of union
station is packed with people
pushing and shoving
each other onto the tracks,
staring into the headlights of destiny
roaring in from the underside-
conductor isn't stamping tickets,
but gives them away instead....
....hoping and waiting for someone
to press 'stop,' hit 'rewind' and reverse.
Time to let go and hold on at the same time,
head up high
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2010
Midfall and nearly all the trees
Stand brown as broken sticks
Against a sky of impossible blue
And I in shirtsleeves a-walking go,
With love and longings my companions
Kicking through the drifts of colored shards
Fallen with another Summer's stealthy fading
Feeling and marveling at this piece of heat
That dropped unnoticed from her pocket.
I could believe today
In an America unnamed,
A place full of wild things and untamed peoples
A place where Spirit spreads
To ride the clouds
And sing its songs unhindered.
Nature has let down her locks today;
And who will look on her
And let themselves be consumed, entranced
By the beauty that lives on in spite of our assaults -
Who will be distracted by the miracles we move through,
Feel the surge of the sea of life all around us,
Hear the whispered prayers
In the windsigh of the sleeping trees
And watch the night come on
Announced by the rose glow behind the thumbnail moon -
Who will stand amid such things,
And not put aside for the moment
Those little cares we circumscribe our lives with,
And stand amazed to be here breathing,
Alive to feel how loving-close
Infinity holds us and claims us for its own;
Surely, not I alone.
I rest a hand on my sleeping child's chest;
Feel the heart fluttering beneath the skin
And I can sense a great wheel turning.
I wander out in the still warm darkness
That follows this day,
To look up at the starstrewn sky
And see that great wheel begin its turning,
And stand amazed to be here breathing.
And stand, amazed to be.
Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2006
Oh, Poisiden, you disrupt my sea;
Alter not your color for the likes
Of miserable me;
Your mouth foams in revelry
As I gasp desperately for
One remaining breath;
My rosary floats upon your
Fickle friendship of fury,
For your whims leave me
With goose flesh as
The grapevine wraps itself
Around my throat ~
I bear witness to antiquated
Notes which deceive;
The tongue of thy counterpart
Scorches this bosom...
Nevermore do I grieve,
Yet I swim vainly;
The chastity belt on land
It does remain,
Drowned dreams of delusion ~
I lurk within the shadow of
Door number two.
Copyright © Tamiviolet Manchas | Year Posted 2006
Poetry is a highly personal endeavor for all who write
And answer the inspiration of Our Eternal Poetry Muse.
Why do we write poetry?
This a very important question for all of us who “spill ink.”
Poetry for me is a most wonderful magical medium and
An art and methodology which bespeaks the realm of the
Mysterious, Arcane, Uncanny, Mystical, Esoteric, and Divine.
Poetry is my personal endeavor to master the complexity of
Relating my deepest thoughts and connecting with the reader;
Developing a memorable and intriguing theme or subject;
Choosing the right words and composing meaningful verse;
Finding the best metaphors and the proper tone and balance;
Exploring key theme attributes (to name a few):
Feelings, passions, emotions, light, dark, happiness
Sadness, humor, good, evil, intelligence, stupidity,
Right, wrong, ethereal, ignorance, and indifference.
Our Poetry Muse touches each and every one of us at key times
When we least expect it: morning, noon, evening, after midnight.
Our Muse, for me, captivates my thoughts and illuminates my soul
While compelling me onward to communicate and share with others
What I see and perceive, sense and feel, think and understand about
A theme as it resonates in the depths of my innermost psyche.
I know that I have much to say now in my life . . .
Verse, meter, rhyme, tone, metaphors, metonymy, allegory, imagination—
All enliven my efforts and make easier my attempts to mirror my
Thoughts and views to the reading public.
I want my thoughts and doubts, as my passion abounds, to connect with
Those deepest elements of my human psyche and my emotions
In making my written message to be something that is:
Meaningful and significant, resolute and spirited;
Full of passion or compassion, humor or sadness, courage or fear,
Strength or weakness, Heaven or Hell, bliss or misery—or whatever
Motivates and inspires the Creative Process for me.
Our Muse is there with all of us, in reality, to inspire us and help us
To bring passion, meaning, certitude, and direction to our thoughts
As we attempt to infuse these very attributes into our poetic narrative.
Our Muse, in the end, leaves it up to each and every one of us
To go one further step beyond Her ethereal influence and inspiration:
To invest and infuse at the end of this process our own “Free Will”
In making the final decision pertaining to what our final verse or
Narrative product will look like To Our Reading Public.
This is my take, my view on what happens when Our Eternal Poetry Muse
Tantalizes us and awakens within each of us that undeniable Spirit of
Inspiration, and that giddy zest and irrepressible desire to “spill ink.”
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (October 3, 2014) (Narrative poetic format)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014
Euphoria this morning, it hits me
now and then. A feeling of joy and peace.
A feeling of well being, sense of we
rather than I, quickening, a release,
knowledge that there is another world
so close that I can touch it if I choose,
a sense of all the others that I hold
at bay on ordinary days, let loose
in the room, the house, in the universe,
and I know I am invited to join
them where they are, here and in the reverse,
seen and unobserved, a flip of a coin
away. I hold the door open slightly,
at times for hours, then, close it gently.
Copyright © ahellas Alixopulos | Year Posted 2008
I am Reality’s angel
resting on the broad shoulders of discovery
the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target
ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you
there is a creator of all things
He is just and patient
many still have fallen into the masses of shadow
wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy
I have seen grown men fall like rose petals
and weaklings rise into unjust leaders
forever the follower of furtive evil
dominating only to remain inferior
the most important answers lie in the unseen regions
where no sense can fully give assurance
the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn
grows weary because of the distance it must take
and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates
it is knowing we are seeking something far
that could very possibly not exist,
that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense
it is knowing all we really think we know
and yes—even a lie
all that has been written thus far rests under my wings
under the warmth in which you refuse to feel
can you believe in me—
though I am completely unseen?
how much more difficult would it be to see
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
Silence can deceive
One's quiet to understand
Another to destroy
Copyright © viviane leite | Year Posted 2011
Alphabet Constructs 3 2 1
Annotated Achilles amends fallen frame amputees
Bulimec Barbies browse media monkey banalaties
Cameo clouds cling to beaded breath curios
Dopamine dreams dilenate check cash desires
Echo endorfins eulogize bullet brain excrement
Fecal folly fantasies reveal relevant frivoloties
Gonadial grownups gulp secret scrotal generosities
Helical hemorriods hinder senior stricken hemocraps
Idiotic ideals idioiosyncrate post partem iconoclasts
Jack Jill juxtapositories seek sexestential jouveniers
Kryptic killer kisses ascot arrogant kingdumbs
Liquid lipid loiners fear frontline lucklullibies
Malovent mommies masterbate rich reflective mommocules
Nevertheless nightengales nourich ruby rich noonbeams
Ovulatory occults outsource torrent tofu outrages
Pensive picses picnics lovelorny passions
Queer quiet quintensials release rancid quotients
Rape ripe residuals nullify nimble reprocussions
Silky seafoam silohouttes fornicate frothy sandlets
Tepid torch trilogies belie beligerent tourniquets
Useless utterences utilize organize orgasmic utopias
Venimous vixens violate cruel.com visions
White willow wombs softly seed hospice hell winds
XY XX xfactors envision extracurricular xraydoms
Yearning yoyo yesterdays calculate clearcovert yeilds
Zen zealous zions mirror maginfy Zoneotones
Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013
Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)
Metaphysical Moment …
… Nature’s Mysteries
This Haiku is for:
The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))
Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009
Some lives are like a stone quickly skipping over the ponds top, forever tossed.
My life is below the surface trying to reach upward with each breathe lost.
But there is still beauty, deep down here in the great depths below…
For the solitude holds me in its grip as I dwell with what I know.
My occasional trips to the surface leave me vastly wanting more…
Still, my life below the surface doesn’t scare me as it did, once before.
And the breaths will come when given, as my life continues to flow.
True it is dark but beauty lingers, everywhere the currents move below.
At times, the surface reflections seem surreal, as if it’s a place not to go.
Comfort comes more and more to my soul, as the deeper I glide below.
Here I dwell within myself, with words, and thoughts, that carry me along.
Perhaps I have found where I truly belong, as I sing my siren songs.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
I am looking right at you and you don’t even know it.
I will deter your intent and throw you off a steep cliff.
But in the air will be my snuff and gruff you can sniff.
Eventually I will have some sort of mercy of just a bit.
Surely we are above empowering manners of tat for tit.
Maybe I’ll light a scented candle and blow you my whiff.
Or maybe I will strand you grounding your bones to stiff.
Opposed or decomposed and still composed I won’t quit.
Inside or out,
I’ll throw down.
I am the clout.
Don’t mistake my identity,
Either or, it’s your eternity.
® Registered: Ann Rich 2009
Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2009
my heart breathes its last breath
Embraces its own death
Ready to be reborn
and made anew
Can’t live a lie
Refuse to “do”
and I’ll DIE....
Focus now on why I’ll live
And never touch the sky.
I have to forget you
I have to reject you
But I will never love anyone
like I loved you.....
I heard you whisper
and you never knew it
I wiped the tears from your eyes
But you couldn’t feel it
You’re lost and you’ll never find you
And neither will I
And I’m so sorry--
but I’m NOT.
I'll attempt to reset
Try to forget
But you know, I never will.
Be my dirty little secret
My very worst-kept secret
Sweet, smooth, beautiful poison
My infernal and endless attraction
towards complete and utter self-destruction
I fell in love with the devil
And it will take one heck of an angel
To save me from the likes of you....
my dream never to come true
Oh, I’ll never forget the times
we never shared
I’ll never forget
how you were never there
Always me, the stars, and tears
And I ask you,
what kind of life is THAT?
I have to face the facts
I don’t know what happens now
but it happens without you.
The stains will always be there
the scars will never fade
But the memory of you----
it HAS to.
I could carry the torch forever
But it would only consume me
I can’t cry another tear for you
Or I’ll dry up completely
It doesn’t affect you
and you never deserved me
You’ll go on with your life, too
All, all alone
Because you’ll only ever be in love
Copyright © SLS It Is Rife With Ambiguity | Year Posted 2011
Lump of bitter dreams
In waking, tough to swallow
In sleep, liquid pools
to be tasted, drank silver,
only to metal harden.
Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2006
Smokeless inhales hurt.
I cough tar on my shirt.
As my black lungs breathe,
Shrilling exhales wheeze.
The nicotine cracks
Copyright © Hyle Chu | Year Posted 2009
I walk a mile to see the self in me that I believe to be,
I knew the road I choose to lay my head to sleep is called my home,
times in need I could barely see that in myself I will set free,
the act that held me down, something about me I could not see,
I lived a life when I decide that day I said that I don't care,
so young, so bright, I dim my light, traumatized for me to share,
love me please regardless of what you heard and what you have seen,
friends say that I'm only human, yes you're right, a human but who am I being?
My life will move in the direction I choose,
this I know I have always been taught
that I choose to be a winner or lose,
its entirely up to me its all in my thoughts.
Copyright © Ken Fepulea'i | Year Posted 2010
The steady pull
a tease on
When I can sleep,
I take what dreams
In these dreams,
my 'noxide comes
to ward me.
Her smoke is an invitation.
the con science
of my imagination.
I give in
and reality spins.
Between the sleeps,
I lie in sanity.
Did I give into
did I'd err?
smoke in the air?
Copyright © Hyle Chu | Year Posted 2009
My heart is the same full of love
My house that shelters it full of pain
But it's autumn in my life, Dove
The hair of gray and wrinkles reign
I set the table full of food
For the family to dine fun times
But it is autumn in my life
When changes prepare for winter
I'm not sure I'll know winter now
For I have not experienced it
But it's autumn in my life somehow
Where beauty glows bright from the depths
Producing leaves of many hues
Love the autumn of my life, Dove
Now all that's left winter's white snow
I think that when winter comes cold
Plants freeze if left out in weather
They will need a warmer place inside
But since it is just autumn now
There's time to prepare room somehow
I still watch the birds from window
They have not all gone away love
But it's autumn in my life now
Soon most will be gone for winter
Winter soon will approach with cold
Seemingly death of the roses
But it's autumn in my life my bold
There are few thoughts of approaching winter
But when winter comes my way
The body rest to rise another spring
Now it's autumn in my life this day
On another day I'll be called by trumpet away
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010
Chain smoke until
I'm in care of the CO.
There's one left, still.
I smoke it really slow.
"It's the end," I anticipate
As the last inch evaporates.
I can't get
It's over before
I know it.
Butt, I can't quit.
I'm possessed with this
Obsession; I'm addicted.
My lungs have oxygen,
Yet I'm suffocating inside.
I can't breathe again
Without my 'noxide.
Copyright © Hyle Chu | Year Posted 2009
"Do not feel Lonely the entire Universe is inside you." Rumi
With endless microcosom's curl
both inside and out of man's swirl
of atoms and world's spins
each as lovely as a pearl.
For God's has formed, so many worlds
each in a perfect whorl.
Attach, connect, be playful, free
open arms and hearts by His decree
bless the large and the small
with grace and camaraderie
together birthed in harmony
harken all to His call.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012
Sometimes I wonder,
What ripped us asunder
I wonder...why friends fade away,
I wonder...why death is our destiny,
And as we experience our final day,
I wonder what will become of you and me
I wonder, with eyes dilated,
Why this day was to be so fated...
When all I saw was you walking away
Or your soul released from here...
I see the suffering of Rene'
Our lives are short,
I wonder what ought
To have been,
Is there some reasoning
For the the ultimate sadness
Towards which we spin?
I wonder if we'll ever understand
What it's all about
I wonder, and wonder,
What was God's plan grand?
I could have redone this life
And accomplished so much more
But now it's too late,
For death approaches my door.
Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2008
Some divine light
Beams upon my life
Every day the same sight:
A star beyond shallow sky,
Would I see you if I die?
Copyright © Lukasz Walterowicz | Year Posted 2012
Of course, who can claim to be my lover
Eternally wedded to him I am, in the form of a prayer
That is you, only you, powerful Lord
Revered you shall be as long as I can breathe your word!
Seated on the highest altar of my heart
Forever you shall be the ladies' sweetheart
Even if the guys will want their friendship's part
My lover forever you shall be in your tender heart
Feelings are profuse,
You have been my only muse
Lighting up at all times my fuse
Tending all the times to my bruise
Blissful are those seated near the Lord
Guiding them he is, always away from discord
Pray, altruist Lord, Love me endlessly
I am yours incessantly, claims my harmony
Placed 6th in the contest Endless Love;Gail Doyle
Copyright © Anoucheka Gangabissoon | Year Posted 2012
She and the handsome gentleman finalized the contract, and he gently placed
the antique pearl necklace into the palm of her tiny hand. As he walked away,
she fantasized about making love with him, for he possessed both charm and
exceptional good looks; he certainly was enchanting...thick, black wavy hair,grey-
green eyes...tall...muscular ~ oh, those muscles...all over his tanned body...head
But she wondered about that limp as he walked away, depending on a heavy
after all, an eternity of beauty and power in exchange for
The evening of the deed was a frigid six degrees, and there was a dead smell of
the sun. She stayed late after work, waiting anxiously until everyone had gone.
Finally, he was alone in his office, so she placed the pearl necklace around her
fragile neck and unbuttoned her red, silk blouse so to reveal her sexy red
She entered the office, and gently leaned over him from behind; he was aroused
by the scent of her "Red Door" cologne...his favorite, and his senses were even
more heightened as he turned around and observed her erect breasts speaking
in a language only he understood. With his large hands, he slowly explored her
thighs, making his way up her black skirt.
"You have beautiful legs."
"You think so, huh?"
They kissed, and the necklace brushed his chest; he didn't feel well, at all. He
was hot...so hot, and his body began its metamorphosis, retaining a grayish
then, disappeared along with all omens of the deed.
She walked over to the black wrought iron mirror and smiled; her wrinkles were
gone...vanished...just as promised; she was ten years younger.
The windows began sweating, and the handsome stranger appeared.
"I have one more assignment for you."
"But we made a deal, one soul."
She began to feel peculiar, and as she viewed herself in the black mirror, she
began aging...ten years...twenty...thirty...she pulled out a large clump of thin, white
The room darkened from his moonly mind.
"My dear, the other soul...is yours."
Copyright © Tamiviolet Manchas | Year Posted 2007
Words are just a decoy
An excuse to dance around the truth
Proves language is uncouth
Your gut will always tell you
What your heart tries to ignore
Most try their best to silence it
Stirring an internal war
Why deny yourself of happiness?
Why pretend logic is correct?
Why hide behind a curtain?
Why pretend our hearts select?
Ignorance is truly bliss
Too bad that's not our case
Lets take a risk and show our courage
Let our souls meet face to face.
Copyright © Leah Werner | Year Posted 2011
At the flower market
I found spice, holy water,
cobblestoned obsidian dreams,
but no flowers.
The blustery Tuscany day
showed me its underlying graffiti,
incantations of poetica esoterica,
and yet another way
to excavate the mystery.
Nostalgic Roman nights,
Spanish palabras, Sicilian incantations,
idyllic panoramas; promises
enough to purchase the moon.
Such a foolish sacrifice to
fresco up for portfolios in
Copyright © Alicia Patti | Year Posted 2007