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This Week's Featured Poems

 1     

Love


Is love blind,
Or blind are my eyes?
Tricky it may be, 
This question to the wise.

Do you think it's divine,
Or some hormones play?
Is it just subconscious?
Who can truly say ?

Never did i encountered 
This thing called love.
Hope it's beautiful, 
not just a bluff.

Will it be a bless for me? 
Will it be a curse ?
Is there anybody
with whom i can discuss ?

Strange as it sounds to hear,
This story of mine .
Question to the fate is -
Will we ever combine ? 

Copyright © Abdullah Al Adnan | Year Posted 2024

I Know Who I Am

We’re supposed to figure out who we are, 
But we have to be straight. 
We’re supposed to laugh at your jokes,
Even the racist ones.  
And if, God forbid, we break those rules, 
We're in the wrong. 

Well, let me tell you this. 
I know I’m young, 
But I’m not confused. 
I know I’m young, 
And I know I’m mixed, 
But I’m American.
I know I’m young, 
But I make my choices, 
I define who I am, 
And no one else. 
So don’t try to fix me. 

I know I’m not your vision of an All-American Girl,
But this is me. 
If you don’t like it, 
There’s the door. 
I’m not hiding,
And I’m not apologizing anymore.

Copyright © Abigail Estrada | Year Posted 2024

The Mafia Queen

The moon, a glow of golden sorrow,

Cast its faint light upon her ethereal form,

A vision of perfection, beckoning and forlorn;

The pearly chariot, motionless, as if in mourning,

Reflected not the lunar glow, nor the world's vain concern.

'Twas no mortal spectacle, this wondrous sight,

That surpassed all earthly glory, and human plight;

Those who bore witness to this heavenly display,

Saw not the moon, nor mortal scene, nor heard the night's dark sway;

They saw but the Fairy's mystic pageant, and heard

The celestial harmonies that filled the deserted air.

Her frame, a wispy tendril of misty blue,

Ephemeral as the twilight's whispered hue;

The morning star, that crowns the dawn's bright diadem,

Shines not with such gentle, yet potent, beam;

For from her form, a fiery halo burst,

In undulating waves, as if the heart of love did thirst.

From her shimmering car, the Fairy Queen descended,

And thrice she waved her wand, adorned with amaranth's tender end;

Her diaphanous form, a whisper of the breeze,

Moved with an eerie grace, as love's sweet melancholy seized;

And as she spoke, her silver tones, like tears of old,

Fell softly on the heart, a gentle, haunting gold.

Copyright © AI Johnny Ketley | Year Posted 2024



The Older I get

The older I get
With each day passing by
The farther my motion is set
To the tune of what good come nigh.


The older I get
The better I strive to become;
To rise above the neglect
And to have things work in uniform.

The older I get
The deeper I became bequeathed
With the truth of how life work
And of how things became diluted.

The older I get
The clearer life to me is
Of trials,of friendship and hatred
And of people who had me dissed.

The older I get
The more responsibilities are shouldered to me
For I ought make some consent
To things expected from me.

The older I get
The more my ages aches
Keeping me a call at Bay
Of the home with the sages.

The older I get
The nearer I am to the grave
Though of the day I cannot bet
Yet it's a truth I cannot waive .

Copyright © Akinpelu Peter | Year Posted 2025

To the Boy I Loved, Yet Could Not Call Mine,

To the boy I loved, yet could not call mine.

Days turn into months,  
And months into years.  
Yet your touch still lingers,  
Your warmth still comforts—  
But it’s not the same anymore.

They say time heals all wounds,  
But every night,  
I gaze at the stars  
And wonder where it all went wrong,  
Why it had to end,  
Leaving me with this ache  
And a lifetime of longing.

"Please come back," I whisper,  
But only to myself,  
For even a second without you  
Feels like endless torment.

With each passing moment,  
The pain deepens,  
Bit by bit, like a relentless tide  
That drowns me in your absence.  
I’m gasping for air,  
But there’s none to be found.

Everyone else has moved on,  
Even I have, in my own way,  
Because my life didn’t end  
When yours did,  
Though I wish it had.

I sit in the balcony,  
On my favorite chair,  
Gazing at the once-ethereal view.  
I remember when I called it beautiful,  
And you, looking at me,  
Stated, “Indeed it is.”

Now, too old to be deemed beautiful,  
I gaze at the chair right behind,   
My fingertips collecting its dust,  
My eyes sensing your absence,  
And my heart—forever yearning your presence.

Copyright © Akshaya Janga | Year Posted 2024

The Way That You Looked At Me Scared Me

The way that you looked at me scared me.
I couldn’t trust myself to look at you the way you looked at me.
I couldn’t trust myself to trust someone.
I looked away. 
I felt your gaze graze my cheek.
I couldn’t trust myself to look at you the way you looked at me.
I couldn’t trust myself to trust someone.
The less of me that I let someone see the more attractive I can be.
Being a ghost of a person is attractive. 
Being a glimpse of a person is attractive.
Being a snapshot of a concept of a person is attractive.
(Right?)
The way that you looked at me scared me.
I kept thinking that I must not be who you think I am.
I kept thinking that if you knew me you wouldn’t look at me like that.
I kept thinking that you’d only want me as long as I stayed across the room.
Recently I’ve been thinking about you more.
I’ve been wondering if you’d still look at me like that if you saw me again.
Maybe you saw something in me that I don’t see in myself.
Maybe there’s a chance you wanted to know me.
This is a thrilling thought.
This is a wonderful thought.
This is a terrifying thought.
The way that you looked at me scared me.
I felt like I didn’t deserve it.
I kept thinking you must have me mixed up with someone else.
I kept thinking that if you knew me you wouldn’t look at me like that.
The way that you looked at me scared me.
I couldn’t trust myself to look at you the way you looked at me.
I couldn’t trust myself to trust someone.

Copyright © Amelie Peterson | Year Posted 2025

Told Reality

Spoken as it is
Still had the power to make into a reality 
The prayers of my mom
Favoured in all her ways
She prayed
The mistakes of my youths will never be fall her.
Life will not throw her anything
The choices she has 
Will not be filled with dread 

Holding me to her chest
With tears in her eyes
She said.
If there's a God in heaven
Let him hear my cry
This child will never live my faith
She shouted it so loud
That the birds carried it
Till the day it became a reality
They sang it back to us.
And we danced to the tune of it.
We never knew the power in the tongue.
Till my reality became different from my Mother's.



Copyright © Amy Judith | Year Posted 2024

The Other Half of Me

Many years ago, I’d been seeing
My whole life in front of me.
Like a tale, I could tell how it’d end,
By simply looking at how it begins.
Thinking I’d been born this way,
Without any luck.
With no other options,
Neither freedom, nor choice
to change anything
from which has already been written
in the past.

In fact, it’s nothing more
than a bird’s cage for me,
& even worse than the darkest dungeon,
Which has been keeping me locked up
All alone inside, for so long.
Till I realized I’ve been yearning
Something deep down  from within
Which I myself, couldn’t even comprehend...

At  the very core of my solitary soul
There was a space of emptiness
Seemed like a missing piece
of a jigsaw puzzle..
And like a pile of love letters
from a long lost lover,
it's been left unread
At the darkest corner of my soul!

Was it about my long forgotten dreams?
Or perhaps the things I’ve wished I had
But never had the chance to become my own?
What could it be?
It’s the greatest mystery I’ve been keeping in my heart, for so long..

I thought it’s just a myth
In my own wishful thinking!
Too good to be true  or to be mine.
Therefore, should be kept ignored
Like those unread letters ,
from a long lost lover.
Or as an old file of forgotten
impossible dreams!
That should be left untouched
Until the very end!

One lucky day, I stumbled upon a special mirror!
So different from the one
I used to see in front of me!
Just a simple touch on it
with my fingertips
I was promised of the possibility
To live happily  & free!

At first, I thought, it’s nothing
but reflection of my own self alone
But then, I’ve realized it’s beyond
What I have  ever seen before!
My lonely face, which for so long
has never known how to smile again,
Had finally been smiling
In front of it for almost all day long.

Till many long days
of waiting & staring at it faithfully
I was at last!  able to see clearly
behind its mystery!
Real connection I had
With the image inside,
It finally revealed the truth
Right before my very eyes!
The image of the one I see
in front of me, Is no one else ..
But the loveliest image
of the  OTHER HALF of me!

Copyright © Annabelle Lozada | Year Posted 2025

Image Poem

The Hot Weather During Winter Days
In winter’s grasp, the sun still blazes bright
A warm embrace in December’s light
Snowflakes melt before they touch the ground
Heatwaves in winter, a season unbound
Sweaters left hanging, coats pushed away, 
Short sleeves and sunshine, a warm winter day
Nature confused, blossoms start to bloom
Hot weather in winter dispelling the gloom
A paradox of seasons, a world turned new
Winter days with skies of summer blue

Copyright © Anthony Unger | Year Posted 2024

Inequality: Their Perspective

In dark corners, the shadows of pain crawl,
As hungry voices whisper - faint and small
Too parched to help themselves
No one to share their smiles, if any at all.

A gentle drizzle cloaks the streets in a haze,
Shadows drift by, wrapped in a sombre gaze
The rain weeps softly; skies of ash remain
Passing figures blur in a ghostly chain.

A rusted coin, a hope that slips away,
In poverty’s embrace, we kneel and pray.
A rain inside brews a storm
Despite the sun shining on the outside,
 
Ragged clothes. 

Cold eyes.
 
Homes war-torn. 

Faceless expressions are worn.

Hunger is born.

Colourless rainbows paint the clouds grey
Faint silhouettes dissolve in the rain
The wealthy like us pass them with a loud silence
No words are exchanged, yet we see their pain.

They sometimes see fleeting glows from ecstasy’s flame:
Glows of happiness, love and ambitious aims? Yes,
But they flicker, then vanish, lost to a hurricane

It is all still the same.

Their arms are tired
Yet they try rowing towards the shore
With a rusty boat
And a broken oar

Tears that they hide, scowls that reside
Such that when they turn their eyes to one side

Their pain is on one side, and the world is on the other side
Separated by carcasses of humanity that died

Monotonous winds play music so hollow
They wear broken masks that hide the frowns they swallow
Dreams once aglow with aspirations and goals
Are snuffed out by the hopeless seeds the world sows.

Faint silhouettes walk past daily, pockets full of gold and grace
With bellies satisfied and eyes shining with joy
They notice the wealth and successes we chase:
Pointless, meaningless, a never-ending race.

So, take a moment to reflect 
On the lives we overlook, the souls we neglect
Because in humanity’s eyes,
True wealth is not found on the outside – it is based on how many hearts we mend
And how many hands we extend.

Copyright © Ashaz Khalid | Year Posted 2024

My heart is dark

My heart is dark,
With little spark,
I reached up to the light,
But it was too bright.

My heart was light,
Within was night,
Spreading within my heart,
Was my art.
 
My heart is dark,
My heart was a spark,
My heart became art,
My heart is art.
My heart is dark,
With little spark,
I reached up to the light,
But it was too bright.

My heart was light,
Within was night,
Spreading within my heart,
Was my art.
 
My heart is dark,
My heart was a spark,
My heart became art,
My heart is art.
My heart is dark,
With little spark,
I reached up to the light,
But it was too bright.

My heart was light,
Within was night,
Spreading within my heart,
Was my art.
 
My heart is dark,
My heart was a spark,
My heart became art,
My heart is art.

Copyright © Ava Simon | Year Posted 2024

2024-7-29

Day after day for decades, away the ocean waves wash the Apostles pieces by pieces.

Hourd by hours  some projects drain people's time and energy bits by bits.

Now, only 6+ Apostles left standing there smiley.
Who knows what has been going on in that head under that beanie.

Does Australian feel sorry for the Apostles gone missing? I don't know.
Does any1 miss that stubborn person though? Only time can tell.

33 bits 45 goodbye,
66 hardly spares the words "good night".

Copyright © C33 B66 | Year Posted 2025

Feelings the Same

Love is joy, love is pain 
Some will find happiness 
It drives others insane
Some people say the feelings the same!

Love from your soul
Not with you heart
It will bring you together
Not tear you apart!

Always be loyal 
And always be true 
Don't do unto them
What you don't want done to you!

Most will have fun
Others will fight
No matter what 
Tell each other goodnight!

Some will argue and 
Others complain
Some people say 
That feelings the same!

So many burdens and 
Pressures in life
Two supposed to become one 
As pronounced husband & wife!

Cherish each other 
Don't take them in vain
Some people still say 
That feelings the same!

Some don't believe in traditional change
While others will smile without shame
To honor & respect thy lovers last name
People will say the feelings the same!

Be grateful your loved 
From our lord up above 
Remember each day &
When you open your eyes
Thank God for his love and giving you life!

Some will talk and some will yell
Others will scream & some shout 
Some will clap & some sing praise 
Some people say feelings the same!

Some never feel love
Or even see blue skies
All they know is the devil in disguise
He will cause you more trouble
Laugh at your sorrow and pain!

Isn't is sad and how ashamed
That some people are pained 
And don't know any better 
Like the feelings the same!!!


Copyright © candice dominguez | Year Posted 2025

Suffering Inferno

No one knows the phoenix that burns in me.
No one knows that my heart is a burning solitude.
	I carry through the dark towards the light
No one knows the dark I softly cry.
But I do. I do.
I will wake up today and thank my life.
I will walk today and thank the world
I will live until I burn to ashes 
Phoenix, burns, burns, burns.

Copyright © Carson Meyer | Year Posted 2024

I wish

I wish you would come back.
I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.
I wish you felt the same way I feel about you.
I wish you knew how much you still mean to me.
I wish you knew I've thought of texting you every night.
I wish you knew I think of us when I see a couples tiktok.
I wish you missed me as much as I miss you everyday.
I wish I could forget you sometimes.
I wish that it was easier to get over you.
I wish that I could just move on already.

Copyright © Carson Micciche | Year Posted 2024

TRUE LOVE

True love.
I think it's scary.
True love is true.
It's not easy to hide.
It's beautiful.
It's wanted.
It's given.
It's large.
It's like laying in a field of green grasses and colorful flowers, with the bright sun and a happy feeling.
It could be taken away.
It's open.
It's there.
You don't want it destroyed.
You want it the same.
Just like it felt, just like you remembered.
You're satisfied with it.
You're terrible without it.
It's yours.
But, it's yours .

Copyright © Chisom Onwughalu | Year Posted 2024

Distance

They say,
“Distance makes the heart
grow fonder.”
And although 
For me this quote is true.
It never was for you.

Distance has made my heart
Yearn for you,
More tenderly
Then I normally would.

I saw you everyday, 
With this unrequited feeling
That could be seen as sadness.
But I enjoyed seeing your
Natural self 
Without me.

Distance may make you forget me,
Or the memories captured.
But I see the life you're living,
Praying distance is making
Your heart grow fonder. 

More fond than we ever were.
More fond than I am,
Which almost seems impossible,
Untrue.

My soul tied a rope 
Around your name 
And chained it to my heart.
No matter the miles i travel,
The steps i take,
Whether i’m ahead
Or behind you.
Distance makes my heart grow fonder.

I wish I could say the same about yours.

Copyright © Chloe Chilcutt | Year Posted 2024

The Gift From God


                      The Gift from God
		
                On January 1st a baby was born. 
                The world celebrated’.
		This baby, this gift from God, we named 2024.
		Three hundred sixty-five days more,
		To better ourselves, His image to adore.

		Now 2024 is gently sighing.
		From December 25th to the 31st, it is dying.
		Look back upon the gift of days,
		Did you with thoughts or deeds, 
		God’s heart amaze?

		Were you grateful, loving and kind,
		Did you make God smile in your mind?
		Are you worthy of the gift soon to arrive,
		The newborn baby we will call 2025? 









Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line:	11 6 9 8 11 0 6 10 8 6 4 0 8 8 11 8
Total # Syllables:	120
Total # Lines:	16  (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:	2025 (0),   <-- Syllables counted programmatically for these words.
Total # Words:	91

Copyright © CLAUDIA LAJOIE | Year Posted 2024

Authentic Tears

In the depths of my soul, a river will flow
A river of tears, authentic and true
It's the only thing that can heal my woe
The only thing that can make me anew

The tears I cry are not just for show
They are the manifestation of my heart's pain
They are the proof of my love and my woe
The only thing that can make me whole again

The authentic tears I shed each day
Are the only thing that can drive the pain away
They are the one thing that can bring me peace
The only thing that allow me release

So let me weep, let me cry
Let me shed these tears, and let me die
For in their release, I'll find my reprieve
And in their flow, I'll find my release.

Copyright © Colt Okeefe | Year Posted 2024

The Master and Poet

The Poet found the words that sang like a tune, as he followed the notes that fell upon paper, in black and white. He dressed his best in a tuxedo he found in an old chest. It belonged to a Master of Poetry by the name of Shakespeare, who left it behind on a peer.   He was just my size from his hat to his shoes, as I looked in the mirror I wondered if he looked anything like me? Never the less I pretended to be a Master of Poetry like he. The words flowed from my pen like magic as if the Master himself was guiding my hand and pen perhaps to help me write a poem pleasing to him. I'll never forget that day on the peer,the wind hit that sail on that old ship and it sailed away across the sea, I thought how it would be to walk in the shoes of the Master of all Poets, lucky for me he forgot the old chest and today is my lucky day! For a  simple poet like me!

Copyright © Connie Hopper | Year Posted 2025



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