Lonely Heart
Winter´s cold fingers grip
a breath can be seen leaving the lips
this room is just as cold
as the inner depths of the soul
No glimmer nor light can be seen
as the frost settles making all gleam
releasing any warmth left
in a room of color bereft
Emptiness abounds
as the cold air surrounds
there are only frozen memories and emotions
soon to become only notions
As the winter comes to an end
no warmth or spring comes to transcend
for the cold has come to stay
capturing a victim as its prey
As the flowers seem to surround
no life is felt to be found
no warmth or love in this soul
that a spring day could console
A tear has frozen in time
of pity not sublime
on a cheek so tired and drawn
from begging for love now gone
As the day leads to the night
there is no hope for the plight
of turning a heart now cold
warm from feelings and love untold
A Bermudez
IAM TIRED OF POETRY
My pen refuses to stop
I get so twisted and Iam laid bare
of all the themes I wear
of all the ideas I share
My poetic wit disobeys my orders
Poetry stop please, you are killing me
Iam in a state of poignancy
I pity myself
I loathe my gift
Poetry is evil
But Plato disagrees
He claims 'the poet's job is to bear witness'
And I witness that 'witnessing' is tough
Iam tired of poetry
Iam tired of poetry
It is to me belligerent
It sneers on my energy
Who will save me from myself
Iam baffled by its effect on me
All I want is more poetry
Reading one leads to the next
Iam disturbed by the comfort others find
I write and someone calls me 'sweet'
Iam told I inspire
Iam told Iam 'set to be' Shakespeare'
Words; words fill my mind
My pen is always on its duty
Traverssing the lonely pages of my books
Iam blind and cant see my soul is dying
I milk it daily/ I beg for complete surrender
The BIBLE or QURAN all poetic
All God's prophets were poets
Please, please, Iam no prophet
I receive no divine light
Poetry please release my mind
Experiences please block any inspiration
Iam tired of poetry
Its disease i get no cure
Poerty let me percieve
Your words let me not receive
For I always believe
Without you I cant live
I see and hear writers perform
some good, others do great injustice
to your name poetry-they cant form
Iam called mystical, satirical, romantic...
Iam none of this,
I deserve not even the name "poet"
Iam ashamed at my writing
Iam ashamed of you poetry
I encipher diatribes into your mailbox
Hoping that you'll desert me
Because I promise if you remain
I'll strip you naked
I'll expose all your forms
And you will suffer from my pen's wrath
I'll decapitate you completly
Poetry is fire, a fire that burns me
In light or night it opens my sight
Iam tired that I cant even sleep
I seek no apologies or reconcilliation
For poetry to me is 'me'
Eddy Ongili©
Not an Ode to Tofu
Oh tofu, I try so hard to love you.
You are what my heart and arteries supposedly prefer.
You save the animals from their frightful doom.
You are our hero.
But you sit there on my counter
trying to look like something edible....
and I see modeling clay or soft white building bricks
meant to be a sculpture or a fun playhouse.
But you claim to be food as you challenge me to make you flavorful -
to smell like anything - to convince me you really are edible.
You staunchly refuse to taste like anything
unless we vigorously infuse you with strong spices.
I am beginning to think you are just a clever hoax!
You're a stubborn, unappealing block of nothing.
Oh sure, you're a cousin of the soybean.....
then why aren't you green?
I need more from you, oh lifeless block.
I need you to try harder to seduce me.
I need a luscious aroma, a beautiful form, a nice color.
Then, perhaps I can learn to love you.
Written by Jo Simons, first posted on the People's Poetry Bookshelf on 18 February 2013.
THIRD PLANET
Just like a rolling ball, you come like a roger
Your quizzical movement brings about changes
Changes like the dark which they call the night
And changes like the light which they call the day
Up and down you go as you roll
You never quit a bit, always rolling
In a quivering manner though, you still roll
Having obstacles in your way as you go, you bring shambles
Causing to you to quive, bringing along hard times inside of you
Can you ever slow down a bit?
Knowing that the faster you go, the faster time goes
Your fast move makes the young to become old
It makes the strong to become weak
And even the brave to become weakling
Oh my fat large rolling ball, stop a bit!
Because time has a way of making us old
You are placed third in the line though, but you are the best among the equals
As you have land and sea in you, making it conducive for the fishes and the fishermen to dwell on
You are so warm and beautiful and i dont wish to leave your side
Can you permit me to always be in you?
Slow down a bit! Time is running against us...
A Painful Truth
A figure of death
Looms over the land
A nuclear scythe
Is borne in his hand
Wearing a mantle
Of consuming fire
He lights for our world
A funeral pyre
I flee in terror
But find no escape
For all of this land
Shows signs of his rape
Where-ever I go
He is always there
Stripping the land
And leaving it bare
I hear his cruel laughter
A malicious sound
While his victims’ corpses
Are thick on the ground
He’s dealing out death
And pain on a whim
There can be no way
Of hiding from him
But now I am running
So desperate to hide
For I’ve glimpsed a truth
I cannot abide
The horror flows through me
For now I can see
There is no escape
This figure is me!
© Phil Gibson 2011
View more at Phil's blog, the Garret.
DONT BLAME THE MIRROR
While standing in front of it in the morning as i woke,
What i saw was me, yes! The real me...
He said hi to me just at about the same time
That i was saying hi to him
Even the smiles which i poured out
Was reciprocated back at me
Just at about the same time
i queried to know why i was being imitated
And all that i got in return was that same query
Just at about the same time
As i tried to walk away from him,
I saw him walking away from me too
He is me! Yes, the real me
The man in that mirror...
If I Could Write A Love Poem
If I could write a love poem
It would be able to reach out
To touch everyone on this world
It would stand the test of time
And show how love is immortal
But the mind stays young and fresh
As the body starts to feel old and weary
Wanting to express this need and desire
To spend an Eternity able to hold you
Able to write just one poem of love
To put the true emotion into verse
It is the hardest thing to do
Because this poet becomes lost for words
To try and express your real beauty
The correct meaning within this beating heart
If only I could give you the wonders of time
Give you the glories within our reality
Describe how your very kiss is electric
How your touch is that of an Angel
This poem I will give to you
As I attempt to find these words
If I could write a love poem
So the stars above can shine down
And all of Heaven can see how I love you
copyright Chris Smith 30th November 2009
