Poetry Poems
We Refugees
by Benjamin Zephaniah
I come from a musical place
Where they shoot me for my song
And my brother has been tortured
By my brother in my land.
I come from a beautiful place
Where they hate my shade of skin
They don't like the way I pray
And they ban free poetry.
......
Donald Trump Poems
by Michael R. Burch
There are poems for Donald Trump and poems inspired by Donald Trump.
Toupée or Not Toupée, That is the Question
by Michael R. Burch
There once was a brash billionaire
who couldn't afford decent hair.
Vexed voters agreed:
......
Kathy's Poetry
by Kathy Garrett
She was a perfectionist gal
a adored gal.
A rainbow moment after another.
She had true color, true grit, and a true heart.
She ran through a meadow, like a angel in the sky.
She had colorful questions to ask, like a colorful heart so lovely
She adored magic all her life, she loved magical fairy tales.
She loved walking around rainbows, she loved clowns,
Her heart was a clown.
She is and always was, a Alice walking through the looking glass.
......
The Colonel
by Carolyn Forché
What you have heard is true. I was in his house.
His wife carried a tray of coffee and sugar. His
daughter filed her nails, his son went out for the
night. There were daily papers, pet dogs, a pistol
on the cushion beside him. The moon swung bare on
its black cord over the house. On the television
was a cop show. It was in English. Broken bottles
were embedded in the walls around the house to
scoop the kneecaps from a man's legs or cut his
hands to lace. On the windows there were gratings
......
Be Drunk
by Charles Baudelaire
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it--it's the
only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks
your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually
drunk.
But on what?Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be
drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of
a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again,
drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave,
the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything
......
Simply Yeats
by Ghairo Daniels
SIMPLY YEATS
My verse under Yeats’ carved door
he merrily chuckled at white
envelope, sketched butterfly
said he preferred to receive
verses this way rather
than reading them across
post-modern websites
......
ear to Endymion
by Rikske Kessner
Oh, to remember such
unspoiled kinship with the divine,
where even the wind was a companion
and silence spoke in full sentences.
Perhaps this poem isn’t just
a backward glance but a gentle invitation—
to return, not in time, but in spirit,
to that meadow of soulfulness
where love was once our native tongue.
......
quiet apologies
by Rikske Kessner
Apologia in Free Verse (After Too Much Metre)
I meant to speak plainly. To let the thought go unbuttoned,
leaned against a kitchen chair, talking about traffic
or the way light hits the linoleum.
But then—I rhymed.
By accident or reflex or loneliness.
It was you that made me do it—
......
my poetic side
by Rikske Kessner
Words collect like morning dew on leaves—
offered, absorbed, refracted—
a quiet exchange in the rhythms of being.
Voices scatter across a vast terrain
gently meeting with fierce exclamations,
each one feeding, each one fed.
Community thrives beneath unseen threads
binding both fragile and the bold,
......
Stilling Dread
by Darris van-Hoxen
Seventy-seven. Cursed
to some
in turn you'll seek
variables dispersed
What's rendered
for verse?
Cheapest meaning,
patterns worst,
immerse;
......
