They say your in a better place

Submitted by Sasha Deppen
.
They say your in a better place
But what the hell do they know
They say your always with me
As I shake my head real slow
There is no better place for you,

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I STRUGGLE TO WRITE IN CURSIVE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

A Simple
Thoughtless
And Automatic Act
When I Was Young
But Not Now
The Years
And Tears
Have Changed That

An American Satire

Submitted by Peter M Burns
.

The elephant sitting in a sycamore tree
Lazily peeling a banana for his tea
Pauses to wonder why ants are free
To march with banners extolling
Demands to ban pesticides that are
Harmful to them and pollenating bees.

The COMPLEXITY of TIME

Submitted by Emphorium

.

What is it I elude to
Within the complexities of time.
The arrows of time,
The linearity of time,
Or is it space time,
Or the simple neglectful
Waste of anyone’s’ time?

The creative well is all dried out

Submitted by Catherine Keller

The creative well is all dried out
Hiding the truth in plain sight
Seasons change and so do we
In this dysfunctional paradise.
Another day about to be wasted
As a fading youth
Trapped within these ink-splattered pages.

Vexes

Submitted by Catherine Keller
.

We’re always chasing, killing and craving time
There will always be bullies
Whether it be in the sandbox
Or the Senate.

Got a new pen

What once was Brighton’s bead shop
now sells stationary
Upmarket and pretentious
but good enough for me
For on a shelf, bright colours
a row of writing pens
So I just had to have one
as I do that now and then

Caravan

Submitted by Pratik Bose
.

Night after night
My city passes through
Some drowsy dark eyes..

When I die
I scarcely think
But I bleed all because of fading past

Newness

The skyscrapers

In a black city

Attracting the throng

To surrender the things

When the sense

Of newness wears off.

 

Build an attempt

So high

With an aim so tight

To render love

In a warm and vivid

Colors of shine.

Third party-

Submitted by Meg eliza

.
Another slam poem about love right,
But the thing ill never understand is the way that your hand;
Can fit so perfectly into another’s.
that happiness is monumental but so momentary.
I don’t know maybe it’s just me or my inability to see the cracks and creases in the broken pieces of your smile.

The state of mind!

The state of mind

Calling the stars

Flaunt a little

The love of life.

 

We lie when woozy

Or we just cozy?

WHAT WRITING ISN’T

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Sometimes We Think We Know
But We Really Don’t
Because We Only Have
A Limited View
A Preconceived Idea

Our Goodbye

Submitted by JPhantom

.

I’m sitting across from a person who knows everything about me, but they feel like such a stranger
And we’re just looking into each other’s eyes, for they tell our story more than words could muster
A story that has succumb to the winds of a cold world, as frost it bites and gnaws at our weary souls

Time after time

Yes, I know I have written
many times in the past
of this beach and the sea
and it won’t be my last
For this place here in Sussex
I will gravitate to
whenever I can
Well you would, wouldn’t you?

I awake to waves

Submitted by thaharbor

.

I awake to waves colliding into bleached sands as they sizzle across the seemingly-endless coastline

Waves that are a deep blue, yet also transparent; waters that appear to be pure, but are found to be brine

Its spray weaves within the wind, a mist that grazes over the beach and onto the tops of my exposed feet

Poetry comes alive

Midnight petrichor
the earth brings me to her and
night time takes me there

Sometimes my best words
come in the small hours
when I should be deep in slumber

LEAVE IT UNSPOKEN – REPRISE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Some things are hard to say
filled with deep emotions
and feelings
that are aching
in your heart

With inspiration here

I write with words that always come
formed into lines until I’m done
A synergy that’s oft begun
with inspiration here

Summer Wars

The dust of Summer,
rubber, barbecue and
mT air that I beg might bring the rains, Neruda’s
gold ghost, Las Manos del Dia under an umbrella say
do I comprehend, how much it may mean
to meet a grizzled old tree
hale and green
after the many deaths
of teething Winter,
hollow poems
no justice
they cannot say,
Longfellow is out walking
my cautious light around the park.

Just another break up letter

Submitted by Katt

.

I love you and I tell everyone you’re just a guy from the past and they really shouldn’t worry about you trying to break my heart all over again because I’m over you.
Over you. I mean I am over you till I see you and remember everything else you did right before you decided to do what you used to see your father do on your mother, slap me across the face. Yes my love I believe you when you say you were just joking but if you joke like that imagine how you get when you are seriously mad.

Letting go

I have words in my hand
which I keep small
secretive, in case they fall

But sometimes when
the pace is slow
I’ll open up and let them go

the crushed velvet theater

Submitted by zaroffpoetry

.

“25: the crushed velvet theater and emotions firing as fully automatic assault weapons into crowded sidewalk salutations”

I never thought the month of June
could jab hard as a boxer,
bark,
cage me in,
crushing bone,
just a paper box tacked on the calendar wall.

Till Again We Meet!

Submitted by Priyanjali Gupta

.

There was a joy in being little,
There was a joy in being clueless.
There was a joy in looking up at you,
There was a joy in seeing your kindness.
There was a joy in having problems,
I knew you would find out a way.

HEAT

 

The sunburns are red

The tanning is gold

The marks are real

The sweat is glowing

With the heat of the town.

 

She is burning

He is burning

To fire the conscious

To light the lamp

In the heat of the sun.

Spectacular II

Sitting in my garden
blank pages in my book
waiting for my words to fill
from everywhere I look
There’s inspiration ’round me
don’t have to look too far
as life is quite exciting
if not spectacular

A sea of inspiration

Submitted by nadiya rauf
.

A sea of inspiration flooded my brain
My pen started writing itself
A train of thoughts
A train of words
Started forming on a piece of paper
A chance to get things of my chest

NEGLECT

Submitted by Joanna M. Weston

.

buttercups and dandelions
have spread their fires
across the garden

Queen Anne’s lace
tats the borders
and vetch spangles
through shrubs

As I stare into the bottom

Submitted by Liv Smith

.

As I stare into the bottom
of the toilet bowl,
calculating my self-worth
like I calculate the number
of calories in a birthday cake
or in an apple, or in sparkling water.
How many “freckles” will appear
on my face from forced vomiting.
How many star jumps done in my
own bedroom.