Mortality Poems
New Jersey
by Annie Jacobs
Confinement is tricky
When it’s familiar and warm
The numbing and slowness
of fingers and thumbs
Delusion finds parking
Invites unhelpful hope
Under a guise when everything seems
That questions have answers in ice covered dreams
Like a rescue is coming and probably likely
Your limbs then succumb
......
bubbles in the afternoon
by Ryan Hoffschneider
Bubbles in the afternoon
Blown on the back porch.
A gentle breeze caressing its way through my hair.
Looking into the eyes of people I once knew
Glimpses of the past.
Not a care in the world, for everything was good
Laughing at ourselves all day long
Amid the popping of those childish domes of soap.
The thing with bubbles
......
My fragile life
by Baramundi Roy
Life is so fragile for I live so close to death
and eternity will begin with my final breath.
This mortal body is composed of flesh and bone
but my soul is eternal and can exist on its own.
These years of mine are but a wisp of smoke
and will come to an end at midnight's stroke.
How many breaths will I breath within my lifetime?
How many heartbeats are there in this heart of mine?
......
Leaves
by Ken Ripley
How handy are the leaves that fall from trees,
Maple, Elm, Dogwood, even needles of pine.
I enjoy these trees, yet can’t tell one from another,
Except to appreciate their colors and their shade
And be soothed as each leaf rustles in the breeze.
And I can’t help thinking their story is like mine.
Proud at their peak to driest piles that smother,
The humblest leaf enriches me with every blade.
Leaves, like seasons, grow differently with time.
......
Heading Home
by Ken Ripley
I miss the trees that lined the road,
Their massive trunks and leafy boughs
Changing colors as the seasons passed.
They formed a living wall of green or red
That greeted me when I entered town,
Familiar and comforting as I’d drive by,
A quiet tug of reassurance
Telling me I was almost home.
Year after year, those boughs were there,
......
Leaves
by Ken Ripley
How handy are the leaves that fall from trees,
Maple, Elm, Dogwood, even needles of pine.
I enjoy these trees, yet can’t tell one from another,
Except to appreciate their colors and their shade
And be soothed as each leaf rustles in the breeze.
And I can’t help thinking their story is like mine.
Proud at their peak to driest piles that smother,
The humblest leaf enriches me with every blade.
Leaves, like seasons, grow differently with time.
......
Heading Home
by Ken Ripley
I miss the trees that lined the road,
Their massive trunks and leafy boughs
Changing colors as the seasons passed.
They formed a living wall of green or red
That greeted me when I entered town,
Familiar and comforting as I’d drive by,
A quiet tug of reassurance
Telling me I was almost home.
Year after year, those boughs were there,
......
bubbles in the afternoon
by Ryan Hoffschneider
Bubbles in the afternoon
Blown on the back porch.
A gentle breeze caressing its way through my hair.
Looking into the eyes of people I once knew
Glimpses of the past.
Not a care in the world, for everything was good
Laughing at ourselves all day long
Amid the popping of those childish domes of soap.
The thing with bubbles
......
Conflicto
by Sameered sajj
Inner life that all portrays
and hold close to thine heart
through the middle ground which i hold
tis brings me closer, to light i scorn
inside oneself is the counsiouness
which he can't portray, or like the
healing bliss he shall stray
but with mighty hands, ones bliss shall not stay
to gain liberty, freedom and socialism
is this the right way?
......
Fleshwater
by Brady Stewart
Why ponder
To hell with the cold steel walls
Knowledgeably erected
Unopenable doors, locked.
“Who did it?”
Says religion
It is a combination lock,
Your new highschool locker
Manuel unentailed
......
