contemporary poetry
Touch me
POSTED IN contemporary poetry January 25, 2014
Touch me
We curl round each other
like fragile fronds,
safe in our womb of darkness.
Feathered finger tips
explore the surface of our skin,
trace each worn trail gently,
smoothing and moulding;
we relax into wordless sleep.
Somewhere in our dreams
we stir once more,
a tendril of fear uncoils
in the darkness,
threatens to divide us.
A whimper escapes my throat;
you nuzzle me and I press
into your warmth, loving
the shape of you,
stroke the nape of your neck,
Belief in my power restored.
Amanda Edwards
Man and wife
POSTED IN contemporary poetry January 25, 2014
Man and wifeWe lay together underneath this tree.
The willow branches shade our skin, so fair.
We listen to the shrieks of youngsters, free,
Unshackled from the burdens that we bear.
It’s simple here to let our troubles ease.
Relaxed, replete I watch you drift away,
Enchanted by the shadows of the leaves,
That dance upon your face in joyful play.
I slow my heart to beat in time with yours,
and shed a tear of happiness for us.
For in this magic place we find no flaw,
Our lives of imperfection are suffice.
Just now we leave behind our family strife;
our souls connect once more as man and wife.
Amanda Edwards
Finding Comfort on the Back of a Horse
POSTED IN contemporary poetry January 20, 2014
Finding Comfort on the Back of a Horse
There are times
When the vast emptiness
Of the prairie
Reflects a hollowness
I feel inside.
When the sound
Of the wind
Echoes in the vacant
Chambers of my heart.
Finding Comfort on the Back of a Horse
There have been times
When I have sought
Solitude,
Longing for the gentle peace
Of the quiet land,
But sometimes
The silence overpowers me.
I seek comfort
In the saddle,
Feeling the harmony
That can only be found
On the back of a horse,
My spirit matching
The rhythm,
Of the hushed beat
Of her hooves
As Rose dances
Across the prairie.
Her spirit
Speaks to mine,
Setting me free
From the shackles
Of loneliness
And self-doubt.
On the back
Of a horse,
My wounded spirit
Finds shelter
From my inner tempests.
Phil Ray Jack
A Besoin
POSTED IN contemporary poetry January 19, 2014
A Besoin
pour son existence
une aiguille a besoin
d’une veine
le tonnerre a besoin
de la foudre
un artiste a besoin
de la douleur
pour son existence
les religieux ont besoin
du doute
le diable a besoin
d’un ange
le pécheur a besoin
d’un saint
pour son existence
les poumons ont besoin
du souffle
j’ai besoin
de ton amour
du volume “Roll the Dice”
Glen Alexander
Words
POSTED IN contemporary poetry January 19, 2014
Words
We are so interconnected,
not just you and I,
but everyone in the world,
that most of the time
our words interfere
with those connections.
In our silence,
we recognize one another,
no matter
where we live
in time or space,
no matter
our personalities or cultures.
In our words,
we create names
and assign quantities
that veil us from one another.
Garnet Shaw Robbie
Games of Solitaire
POSTED IN contemporary poetry January 18, 2014
Games of Solitaire
Amid the salmon and the apricot
dipped in a bowl of midnight ink,
Your tongue cuts to the quick
spelling out the fable upon which
you tell me I have set the table
of my life’s journey:
You speak of mysteries beckoning
an audience with me
but my dreams line games of
solitaire between orange moons
hung stealthily in the african sky:
I wonder which equinox it was
you first discovered my soul sleeping
soundly on the slatted kitkat bench
and moved on into the silence
so as not to wake a sleeping universe?
I remember your passing
this way once before
It was a twilight heart of Cabaret Voltaire
The dish had runaway with the silver spoon
and I midstep
a Cha-Cha with Appolinaire
caught your shadow kissing Time
and heard you whisper
“she.
is mine!
Guillaume and I played cards till morning
and found a sunrise dressed for War!
The blood cycle
left front doors well-dressed
and troubled.
Minds and art fled to meagre exiles.
Fixed on other tongues
You forgot her name
and caution:
blood thirst monologues
drove you underground
a warlord ravaging your soul
A Tale of Two Cities,
shredded across your bed,
raided your enemies
trivia hunted you down in
a fine-fisted cranium full of threats.
but the memory sat cross-legged
upon your heart and the dearth of uneasy slaughter;
her seagreen eyes reflected piecemeal
arrows in your soul: melancholy stole the text
and read to you
of an undressed Sargasso Sea
wherein you saw her again
play games of solitaire with an ancient man
they used to call Apollinaire…
redroom.com/member/renee–sigel
Renée Sigel
Without Me
POSTED IN contemporary poetry January 18, 2014
Without Me
I made a promise to myself – To become famous:
Not for money, but for Art….
The wanting has grown long sinuous roots and become Ancient;
a deep tree from which Words Cascade – brief and delicate.
Springblossoms breathlessly summon parables,
Settling as dust does on one’s skin; unfolding
an Unforgettable gaze of beautiful eyes.
I will not let you go.
You promised me the art of the possible
I gave you desires enough to fill the Universe.
Intimacy?
An engrossing challenge for a world in which it now
Plays to virtual galleries –
A meditative climax: No more than the trading of stenches
Kinships crafted by a shared toothbrush…
You approach heartbreak with a precision tool
And inseparably utter the cascading syntax
Of an emotional truth: You cannot love me.
It is an absurd discourse of alienation,
which collapses between squeezed embraces of relative strangers-
On what are relative matters of love and
Endurance!
Full blooded, full-bodied and lascivious with Rage,
Step with me into the twilight of kisses, where conjugating
A mental breakdown, we may taste each other’s authenticity
– Just one more time.
I am not afraid of death, not afraid of that fractured blue hour of Being;
Incarcerated at birth, I was caught by Life and dangled: a
Cameo fiction between image and idea
– A feast for photographers of moral disaster.
We all carry with us portable kisses, sunk to the bottom of haphazard intentions;
Unclothed, even God would want the Emperor’s new clothes…
What are you looking for?
Me?
I was re-issued on double-cassette and got sifted out with the rest
Of life’s technological redundancies –
I have given up Staying Alive just as
Others have given up cigarettes.
You’re laughable with your misdemeanours and
European imagination.
I prefer death from poverty.
I have no voice remotely connected to the human heart.
What’s done is done in life’s book of love.
Marauding, unearthing – ours is a dying language
Yet, I will eat your sins
Were you to promise:
“To never live Without Me?”
http://redroom.com/member/renee-sigel/writing
Renée Sigel
The Muse
POSTED IN contemporary poetry January 17, 2014
The Muse
To find a holy one upon my path,
to see a vision that transforms me,
to hear a muse within my soul
speak until I must, at last,
gain freedom from the poet’s wrath.
Garnet Shaw Robbie
Panic in the supermarket
POSTED IN contemporary poetry January 9, 2014
Panic in the supermarket
tendrils of fear
unfurl around me
among the shelves
crackers play dice
with my heart
there’s too little air
in the Spanish olives
unarmed
a purple aubergine
mocks me – “mala insana”
what madness is this?
my soul bared
there is nowhere to hide
layer upon layer of skin
unpeeled, stinging
insidious tears
pretzels hold out their arms
like children in prayer
I stare at my upturned palms
stained by the vine
and wonder why I am here.
Amanda Edwards
Sacrifice
POSTED IN contemporary poetry January 7, 2014
Sacrifice
He loves me, he loves me not
a tear begins to form
He loves me, he loves me not
a seed of fear is born
He loves me, he loves me not
my heart will not settle
He loves me, he loves me not!
I crush the fragile petal.
What if he never loves me?
My brokenness won’t mend
I pick another daisy
and start the count again.
He loves me. He loves me!
Joy becomes a sigh
For just a tiny spark of hope
a flower had to die.
from justwritewithmandy.blogspot.fi
Amanda Edwards
