THEME POETRY

Each issue has a new theme - take a look at previous issues below and click to read them all!

JANUARY 2021 = NEW BEGINNINGS

Fresh Snow

Kassie Runyan

United States

https://www.KassieJRunyan.com

 

The white sparkled crunch

beneath my heavy boots

disrupting the silence of the day

 

Untouched and undisturbed

by man or beast

as I am the first to take a step

 

Producing the first marks

in the pristine surface

and feeling powerful and new

 

It is only frozen water

and nothing more,

the whisper stirs deep in my mind

 

It questions, sarcastically,

why the power in an action

that anyone else can do?

 

I shush the whisper away

not letting it upset my day

and my feeling of accomplishment

 

In being the first step down

as my little foot makes its mark

deep into the fresh fallen snow.

Just A House

Billy Harrington

England

https://www.Instagram.com/thepoetbillyharrington

https://www.twitter.com/thepoetbillyhar

 

Now that every room is empty

In this house that was your home

With all the troubles, squabbles

Laughter, sadness, hatred and the moans

The windows have no curtains

There's no carpet on the stairs

If I can just be honest

I'm just a house and I don't care


You run your fingers on my brickwork

You open each and every door

Each room that held your richness

The barest floors when you were poor

The slightest smile of a memory

Of that cat that caught the mouse

Look, I hate to be that bastard

I don't care, I'm just a house


Months before your child's birth

You could not stand for throwing up

And the notches on the door frame

Of your son, now all grown up

And when you caught your husband

With the neighbour in your bed

I'm not really bothered

I'm just a house like I have said

One last gander at your garden

And the swing tied to the tree

That cunt has signed the paperwork

And finally set you free

This home of anger, joy and sorrow

All those memories that you'll keep

I'm just a house and I don't care 

I'm afraid I'm not that deep


Very soon I'll have new owners

Who'll brush your life out from these halls

Replace you from the fixtures

And strip you from these walls

Maybe one day you'll pass me by

And remember life in there

But I'm only bricks and mortar

I'm just a house and I don't care

 

The Gate

Mohamed El Hossaini

Morocco

 

Where shall we go 

with these ghosts of the past?      

Sorrow and grief are always here 

There's no power to endure them.

But I know happiness is near.

I believe there will be a gate.

A gate that will help me

forget the misery.

A new dawn would be ushered in,

Where flowers and leaves will glow.

My wings will sprout back,

And I will fly high with no return.

Accept these tough moments

with might and determination.

And vanquish them with no mercy. 

I go forth and applaud my victory

where I leave all my struggles behind.

Time Will Write History On You

(For all who have died from Covid-19)

Guna Moran

India

Translation: Bibekananda Choudhury

https://www.twitter.com/gunamoran

 

Time how cruel you are

Our devotion is still far tougher than it

 

Fighting on

We would continue penning

on your bosom

The history of our triumph

 

You would remain a spectator

To our indomitable entity

You would remain a listener

To our fame and glory

You would turn into history

To carry to our progeny our motto 

 

You would lose on the brink of winning

We would win on the brink of losing

 

We would stay alive even after dying

You would die even though living

 

You’d rise again

Like Phoenix from the ashes

Our Progeny would fight again with you

Pages in the history of triumph would get added on

countless diyas would blow on our altar

 

Time how cruel you are

Our devotion is still far tougher than it

 

Fighting on

We would continue penning

on your bosom

The history of our triumph

 

You just watch

Making Wings

Tara Aryan

United Kingdom

https://www.Instagram.com/mrs_tara_aryan

https://www.Facebook.com/personalaboutpoetry

https://www.twitter/aryan_tara

 

The transparency allows me to navigate,

As I stitch, seal and smooth hoping I am not too late,

I tried to reach you, yet you were already too high,

I was out of my depth, I needed to learn how to fly,

Every time my feet left the floor, it was never enough,

When the moments were upon me, when time got too tough,

I held out my arms if they were wings,

Yet all they ever were, were my useless limbs,

That couldn’t take flight so I could travel to you,

As the news it hit me, I didn’t want to believe it was true,

I was lost and broken as you were my other half,

Staring at the face that says nothing, in that framed photograph,

Where we lived and loved, cried, argued and laughed,

Life shattering our dreams into fragments my shell now halved,

See, I am making these wings and I know it’s a risk,

Our time together felt fleeting and bitterly brisk,

My wings are made of white feathers, those you’ve sent as a sign,

Because you’ve given me the material to invent what now is mine,

Glued together with tears as they spread so magnificently,

I undertake this task with much pain and difficulty,

Your face painted in my mind and sketched to artist perfection,

The reason why I am making these wings are a constant reflection,

As I’d do anything to meet you here again,

Now it’s just a matter of where, how and when,

I flap and dance hoping to climb great heights,

Despite the cold wind blustering I manage to take flight,

Gaining elevation I manage to float above the clouds,

As I should and scream your name, echoing so loud,

There you stand almost like a projection, smiling and waving,

Keeping momentum to get towards you as my emotions are caving,

There was great reason to believe these wings could truly fly,

So I could travel way up to heaven to give you my last goodbye.

Castaway

Ellen Birkett Morris

United States

https://ellenbirkettmorris.ink/

 

Eve left Adam and moved to a trailer off Route 66. The trailer was small, but had room for her Penguin Classics that she read at night instead of watching television, which she only turned on for the weather. She didn’t miss the garden. The thrum of traffic replaced the murmur of the wind in the trees. The stars were blotted out by streetlamps, but if she pressed on her closed eyelids she could see small flashes of light, a private show. Eve worked at a rib joint down the road. The red sauce dripping off the bones made her crave crisp, green salad. She watched the truckers gorge, their bellies swollen, savoring the emptiness of her womb. She ignored their whistles and smacked their greedy hands. She pocketed dollar bills and anthills of change to buy chocolate bars from the vending machine at the laundry mat. In the late afternoon, her clothes on permanent press, she’d sit in a plastic chair, watch them tumble dry, slowly unwrapping chocolate, the bittersweet taste on her tongue, sheer heaven.

 

Mother Nature’s Antibiotic

Jerrica Magill

United States

https://www.Instagram.com/nicoletteSoulia

https://www.tiktok.com/seekthefire

https://www.twitter.com/NicoletteSoulia

 

The world kept spinning as society ground to a halt. 

In fact, it seemed to spin faster, 

as if trying to shake us off 

in the way dogs shake off water after 

that bath they hate to admit made them feel better.

Earth - invigorated by our frozen state,

Earth flourishes.

It breathes deep 

and finally kicks the smog congestion of its lungs.

It breathes again, 

and its organs begin to synchronize.

The trees breathe back, 

the oceans splash 

and wash the Earth of its human infections. 

The birds gather in parks again.

The wolves and coyotes and cougars become 

the new security guards of the empty city streets, 

like prowling white blood cells 

coursing through Earth’s veins.

Earth thrives during human demise, 

and that shit really pissed off Capitalism, 

the most choked out virus of humanity.

It doesn’t like knowing that it’s not needed.

Capitalism is a narcissist - and now it’s fighting back.

Let Us Cry

Darshana Thapa

India

https://www.Instagram.com/creatandwrite

 

I caught a glimpse of stars today,

when I was a passerby 

along the banks of river

I quickly made a wish

and looked up at the sky.

 

Thinking stars had dropped

down from the sky so high.

I wished for everyone one

to cry with full of tears in

our eye to fill the  land so dry.

 

Create oceans, lakes and seas

never to let them dry.

If millions of us will cry

won't we be able to make a difference?

 

Skies filled with swift flowing river,

oceans with moon and stars,

mountains with sun rising and shooting stars

to fulfill our wish every time.

 

Never allow drought and famine

appear and everyone was blessed

with prosperity, happiness and joy.

 

Paint the rivers of your tears,

violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, red,

and make a wish to create a rainbow

high up in the sky with  feelings mingled

of millions that will never die and live till eternity.

 

Just make a wish and draw 

trees, plants, animals ,bird alive,

and all the worldly creatures stabilize,

to save our Earth and never to destroy.

 

Unity in diversity is powerful,

gives strength  and courage,

and holds up the sky.

Let's Talk

Petronella Powell

United Kingdom

https://www.Instagram.com/petren33

 

It’s time for a fresh start,

To free our hearts from the pressure we put them under

And release our minds from the pain we put them through,

It’s time for a new beginning,

This year we should try to be kinder to ourselves

And stop locking away our feelings on a shelf,

Instead let them free so our minds can be,

It’s a year to start talking about how we feel,

To help both ourselves and the people around us

Because if we discuss what’s going on in our brain

We’ll help stop each other from going insane,

Everyone feels pain

But not everyone lets it out,

So they just try to black it out,

That never helps

But talking does,

It sometimes even gives you a buzz,

So this year lets talk about how we feel

And stop making talking a big deal,

Let’s normalise it

So we can help each other heal.

Come back of everyday life

Alicja Maria Kuberska

Poland

 

It will be fine again 

and the world will regain its brilliance
Time will go on, 

bad hours will pass
- these ones filled with fear, 

suffering and tears.
One day  the death will forget

 to sharpen its scythe.

Joy will return home 

to bloom on the faces
Sadness and fear 

will settle in memories like a bit of dust
- only sometimes 

they will echo in the nightmare dreams
or will recall in the stories

about long days of horror

You have stayed in November…

Lesya Bakun

Ukraine

https://linktr.ee/Chytanyky

https://www.youtube.com/c/LesyasHowTos

 

You have stayed in November -

Fully,

From a spicy acquaintance

Until the sharp ending,

In November,

When you

Have not written a single line

Of prose,

Did not grow a mustache

And even your No Nut

Has failed.


And I

Went on to the frosty,

Clean December

To crystallize

And come out clean:

Without any impurities,

Expectations and goals of others,

Fractures and strains -

Because how can

a power of nature

have them?


I will leave December

With no layers of scale,

Without technical impurities,


Source only,

With a clear,

Sophisticated structure,

Capable

Of tearing dams


I.

New Beginnings

Jonathan Child

United Kingdom

Two faces,

One smile,

Two heads,

One hairstyle.

 

Two bodies,

One profile,

Two thoughts,

One fire.

 

Two lies,

One divide,

Two brains,

One mind.

 

Two minds,

One private time,

Two perspectives,

One paradigm.

 

Two changes,

One restyle,

Two gods,

One design.

Two cultures,

One superhighway,

Two hearts,

One aisle.

 

Two prides,

One infantile,

Two mobile phones,

One dial.

 

Two hates,

One bile,

Two truths,

One tie.

 

Two dreams,

One drive,

Two negative beliefs,

One misfiled.

 

Two anomalies,

One: ‘not classified’,

Two wars,

One trial.

 

Two suicides,

One grief exile,

Two happy planets,

One universal smile.

Paint

Claire Kroening

United States

 

Paint with true color

Trace in bold strokes

Hold each closely

For you alone can see

Beauty is hidden deep inside

Every line and stroke you make

So observe where you stride

Skipping over each other line

What you find in these vibrant tones

Might lead you to a path

All your own

Hebrew for The Tree of Life –

so I skipped it

Doreen Arnoni

Canada

 

She  came often to stand beneath

my branches. 

Quiet, still and

tranquil as though in my presence

there was peace and solace. 


What did she see in my tangled arms?

The seasons of her life perhaps. 


The dreams of a young girl reaching

for the sky, no limits to the

possibilities that might lie ahead. 


Words of love surround her. Tenderly 

recalling the partner with whom she shared

the meaning of her world. 


Were my arms hers, holding her children,

teaching them to be strong, sturdy

and rooted in a world that would 

not always be kind. 

There would be anger, injustice, war,

discrimination and hate. 

They learn that these abominations

must be fought and they must teach their children 

as they are being taught. 

Days when her eyes reflected sadness, the times of loss – a loved one gone, an angry word that could not be recalled, an

unintended hurt that could not be soothed. 


Days of joy. A new life, a new season,

an unexpected gift, a sickness healed and

the knowledge that she has done well. 


No longer young, her face is a testament to the passage of time. Each line well earned, each

grey hair the dues paid to a club whose membership is

a privilege not given to all. 


She came to me. I was her friend, her constant

companion in life. Indeed, I was

her life. 


And then she came no more. 

In Another World

Nick Ionescu

United States

https://www.facebook.com/poetrepublic

https://www.twitter.com/renegad13704947

https://www.Instagram.com/nick_Ionescu_author

 

I feel myself trapped, in another world,

As my thoughts, begin to unfold,

Amidst torn visions, left behind,

Of another time...

A moment, reminiscent, of pure bliss,

Caught, within your magnetic gaze, 

Which, pierced through me,

As you passed by...

It was, as if you were able,

To peek at my soul, from within.

As creativity, now floods me, 

I am pushed, towards love,

Engulfed by its depth,

Another written verse, 

Overflowing, within me,

I’ve cast, throughout the universe,

My wishes, as they are held,

In the dreams, of you and I,

Within a sea, of countless stars,

Amidst the night’s sky,

Created, from the space, where,

I’ve allowed, my words to flow,

Along, the vibrations which,

Emanate, that of which, I speak,

Under the Moon’s, gentle afterglow.

Ascending, and descending, in waves,

Of rhythmic patterns, 

My heart continues, to pulsate...

Only to find itself, swept up, 

As it’s become enflamed,

By howling, moments of passion,

Its gentle winds, reoccurring...

Sweeping breezes, as feelings,

Built up, without warning,

Yet, this is only, the beginning...

Rainbow

Matt Cummings

United States

https://www.trappedpoet.wordpress.com

https://www.facebook.com/trappedpoet

 

Stuck in the gray boring house

Sheltered away from my empty heart

I didn’t want to look at it, bittersweet memories

Rainbow in my eyes, singing a beautiful song

Sonata of my youth, faithless

The pain I feel, so right, it’s feeling wrong

I want to see that blue cloudless sky

 

Above my head, I read your testament

Of my youth, I pray to lose

Feeling loose, I want to dance across the rainbow

Gleefully spontaneous blooming of my heart

The poet inside me, no longer trapped

So many colors to see, so little time

Icarus flew through the sky

Reminds me how much magic I have left

 

Snaps of my fingers, I no longer feel gray

The world itself is blue and it’s beautiful

Here I am, on this small stage

Making my stand, in the world’s stage

For all to see, my flaws, flowing emptiness

Flashes of lights, no smoking guns

My brain’s draining, vainly madness

Filling up with rainbow

I’m finally happy

Hope you are happy too

In the world full of rainbows

 

MEET THE TEAM

Mel

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Mel is a special needs teacher from the UK. She lives by the sea and loves nothing more than walking along the beach with a coffee from her favourite cafe. She has always loved reading and writing poetry. 

Kassie

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Kassie is a poet and fiction author from NYC. She spends her days working in marketing and her nights writing and designing... when she isn't traveling and trying to find the next best brewery.

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