As the first rays of sunshine
wakes me out of my sleepy slumber,
I sat up in bed and looked at my hands.
The taste of stale cigarette smoke of cheap red wine
stained my taste buds.
I walked out of bed,
turned on the radio
(to the classical station)
and my heart beats to the tune
my life and soul smile as the sun shines in my room.
I hear God whispering in my ear
I hear all the words of the world
talking to me,
and I can hear my heart sing a little.
I read my poetry,
get dressed go for a walk,
I smile at the faces that I pass;
The cars I pass,
the dry lawns,
burnt and that have not been watered in days.
I smile at them and they all smile back,
and my heart sings a little,
and I dance to its simple tune.
My heart sings and I dance too:
rapid jazz and swing music
and waltzes to the chopin masterpieces,
and the romantic stories, novels, the poems,
that fancy your mind with its ryhme schemes,
and after I read such romantic beauty
I smile, and I listen closely to my heart,
and with every beat,
it lets out a verse or two, from a familiar song
that caught my ear on the radio,
and my heart sings
and I smile,
and the world smiles back.
Feeling such beauty
love and romance
it is such a good feeling to live with;
and as the night rolls on,
and the sun goes away
I sit at my desk
with a cigarette slowly burning away with time,
and I am stuck,
getting drunk of red wine,
I sit back in my chair,
and listen to my heart,
and he sings alittle
and I can write again.
So, there we sit together,
to the strike of nine
and we both sing songs of love and romance
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013
your heart is avowed by nostalgic pigeons
pigeons that you did away with stones
Copyright © shabnam shirvani | Year Posted 2014
People around me
Flock like locusts
As if were rats on a putrid lake
They say about me
Things I had not done
For I corpse at front of them
Copyright © Abdel latif Moubarak | Year Posted 2016
The lights have all disappeared
And the torch lamp’s weary
To block darkness
Darkness is eternity!
Light your red candle
O chase lonesomeness
The deep lonesomeness
By the soft sound of your voice
Your nightingale voice
Speak that Chinese
When you come
Come when the winds blow
Come when trees crawl
Come when birds sing
Of turtledove birds come
Come when I come
Let’s come together, all our life!
Oh, the night and the torch lamp
O at a dark night of a rainy season
At Elobi for a forlorn student
Douala, June, 2014
Copyright © Jaafar Sadig El Waad | Year Posted 2015
There's tears of joy
tears of hope
all different kinds
feelings aren't toys.
some are afraid to cry
in front of other's
hide every drop
under their covers.
big to small
happy to sad
to when they fear.
grab a tissue
dab on your eye
for you to cry.
Copyright © hayley webb-myers | Year Posted 2016
BIRDS SING LOVE
1. All fowls in the air
What they sing do you hear!
If you are not dumb to cheer
Open your eyes and ear
To discern beauty so clear.
Whilst imitating them dear.
2. For you they all sing.
Before you is a dancing.
They play love and convincing,
Not for nothing
They are troubling
But, truly offering
Free essential learning.
3. Birds are joyful all over,
Not a sobering is either.
They sing for you to hear.
All the day is
“Love your dear”
“Love her prettier”
“Make her appear
A lovely miss cinthier”.
4. In the morning they sing,
“Take her along”
“Give her a song”
“Make her sing
“Make her swing”
“Make her smiling
Like a life long king”.
5. In the afternoon they cry
“Make her cry
With a madly cry”.
“Make her fly
A dreaming sky”.
“Make her spy
And feel so shy
Of your eyes so dry”.
6. In the evening they dance,
“Tight her close”
“Touch her nose”
“Pull her blouse,
Make it loose
In a deem-light house”.
“Ride her course
Like a champion horse”.
7. At night,
“Keep her bright”,
“Keep her right”.
“Blind her sight
And caress her tight”.
“Block her fight
To let her fight
In a jolly light”.
Copyright © SAMSON MANYALA | Year Posted 2016
MY POEM ABOUT DEPRESSION
A dark place, A wet slimy wall and a damp cold floor, A refusal to surrender or to be seen as weak and needing of support, a mask of two hands, one voice.
A pin hole of light above my head, a dusty environment imagination projecting the universe, A faint sound of life beyond the old well, curiosity takes me away from the worry and i forget i am alone.
The well fills up with water the more fascinated i become in the wonder of life. The clear water gives me choices, keep laying and drown or suffer the movement of change and survive.
A couple of days or weeks maybe month pass and now i can see all the sunlight coming from the opening of the well, i am still up to my neck in water and it soon starts to rain, slowly washing all the old thoughts away, there is now water flooding into the well and naturally i start to kick my legs, i don’t want to die, i want to be happy again in the sunshine. I go with the follow, my head breaks through the darkness into the light.
I push down on my weak arms and climb out.
Two feet, Two hands, One park full of a million voices.
Your amazing, your strong, the universe has your back.
Copyright © crizz pie | Year Posted 2017
She was bird, in a massive world.
She flew, felt new,
above the clouds, had no doubts,
Believed life is good, sky is her hood,
Lived so high as reality is a lie.
Her last laugh, that torn her half,
Captured in eagle’s eye, wanted to die.
Freedom is lost, payed huge cost,
killed her soul, now dark as coal.
Nothin left, soon she left. she was a bird, in a massive world.
Copyright © taran bamrah | Year Posted 2016
From you, I don’t want to hear another word.
You say you wish to be like that yellow bird?
There it perches up in the banana tree.
Whenever it wants to, it can fly away freely.
Perhaps its latest mate just absconded from the nest.
Do you think he cares? He can choose among the rest.
You don’t know how good you’ve got it on this tropic isle.
You can be without a woman for just a short while.
Like the flowers in the jungle, women can be picked easily.
There are plenty of them out there for you and me.
Do not wish to be a bird; be thankful you’re a man.
You can attract women as well as any man can.
Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2011