National Poetry Month, Part Two

I offered my readers the opportunity to have their favorite poems featured here. Their poem of choice could either be written by them or one of their favorite authors in the public domain. Here are the poems.

If You Ever Feel Naked In Front Of Me…
by Dizzyalchemist

when I think of you,
when I remember your body,
your bare skin,
you’re never really naked,
to me,
you’re never really exposed,

because I can feel you,
I can sense you,
I understand you,
your personality,
your emotions,
you,

I love everything about you,
and I’ll always keep learning,
exploring each layer,
from your core,
every subtlety,
every nuance

if you ever feel naked,
know that I do too sometimes,
but when we’re like that together,
it feels so natural,
like we were meant to be,
since that first ever memory

On Growing Old
by Colleen Elizabeth

In an old house with floorboards
That creak and groan in the summer heat
Lives an old aging woman with dry and cracked
Hands from years of honest labor.
Her face, with deep creases that run
Every which way, like rivers on a map,
But rather than distant, unfamiliar, and impersonal,
Each crease is part of a story, her story,
Each crease affiliated with a worry or fear
That stemmed from loving a son,
A husband, a granddaughter,
The struggle, she found, was allowing them to
Leave her side, her home, one by one.
And I loved her fiercely, even when I
Eventually moved away and took a job
In a confusing and chaotic city.
Now as my childhood friends reminisce,
About their grandparents
And groan about a new gray hair
Or a surfacing wrinkle on their own
Tired faces, I laugh,
And a smile emerges knowing that when
That first monumental wrinkle grazes my face,
I will be on my way to becoming
The woman I always wanted to be.

Life
by Assaad

Life is too short,
Grudges are a waste of perfect happiness.
Laugh when you can
Apologize when you should
And let go of what you can’t change.
Love deeply and forgive quickly.
Take chances. Give everything
And have no regrets.
Life is too short to be unhappy.
You have to take the good with the bad
Smile when you’re sad
Love what you got
And always remember what you had.
Always forgive but never forget.
Learn from your mistakes
But never regret.
People change and things go wrong
But always remember
Life goes on!!

Uncensored
by R. MonaLeza

do you see these changes
that burrow under my skin
burrow under my skin
like parasites
and I hang on tight
cause you know
I know
it’s gonna be a crazy ride
and there’s no tunnel of love
love me tender
love me sweet
my feet are going somewhere
so I have to follow
follow me to that hollow place
trace me into existence
so I don’t disappear
disappear into smoke drifting across
oceans and lakes like a moonlit story
with no real beginning or end
or what happened in the middle
you know the juicy stuff
that seeps out onto the cold ground
and vanishes into cracks
tracks from shoes stepping where I lay
weeping weeping and putting my knees on pews
the news is not a front page story
but the filler between an ad
and the margin on the page
rage is a killer
kill her
kill her
use the methodical means of disposal
the dream chained around my throat
devote myself to breathing in and out of
truth that I am here
here we are
this mottled collection of spirits
pushing truth through poetry
and rhyme and time is running out
I doubt you’ll ever hear the full story
because it travels through every day
day in
day out
there’s no real meaning to struggle
struggle up the hill
struggle the bitter pill
to push love through poetry
what me
talking about love
love them tender
love them sweet
because I didn’t know any better
better make that admission before
doubt sets in
and I own that shit too
I’m wealthy
my bag is full of treasures
like memories
and bruises
like memories
and excuses
like memories
and memories
and memories

Morning Ritual
by Sorasea

when i woke up this morning
the door was slightly ajar
something moved
and all of a sudden
through the window blinds
came a chorus of sun
as if a cell had lysed
or a man had gone blind

that’s when i thought
i saw someone
just standing there
a hundred smiles gracing
its crisp burnt arms
it was gravely thin
and desperately glad
with fondness it stroked
the body of its gun
and its gun was named
love

i said aloud
what do you want from me
it laughed in reply
you have nothing
to give

but on second glance
it was simply a black dress
i had hung up before
bless my heart
still unmoved
immaculately
collecting wrinkles

so i said aloud
don’t scare me like that
it laughed in reply
then stop
being so scared

The Space Between
by Bernadine

In the space between a heartbeat and a breath
in the time, midway between a sigh
and the teardrop’s fall
In the empty space between
the fissures of life,
stands, I.

The essence of my inner being …
in this moment of nonexistent time
disrobes myself of the fabric of
this worldly flesh
Until I am,
a single
soul’s
breath

A minute speckle of the essence of infinite life
swimming in this sea of radiant light
streams that carry me through
water, air, earth, and land
dropping me gently to rest
upon the bed of
life’s hands

I awaken,
born anew, a seedling
nestled within the warmth of
nature’s blanketed earth
In the span of ethereal time
I sprout, grow, reaching
earth’s sky

My spirit strengthens as I grow
in this existence
a seedling, roots,
then arms reaching wide
a single leaf now,
in this garden of life

The seasons pass to the song of this infinite tempo
the breath of life releases me once again
as I fall to the ground
the winds whisper
an omnipotent breeze
gently,
they carry me across
this vast universe

Where …
Once again ….

The essence of my inner being …
in this moment of nonexistent time
disrobes myself of the fabric of
this worldly flesh
Until I am,
a single
soul’s
breath

And …

In the space between a heartbeat and a breath
in the time, midway between a sigh
and the teardrop’s fall
In the empty space between
the fissures of life,
stands, I.

Hazaribagh House
by Mihir Vatsa

Let us journey back a little,
Wave goodbye to Mrs. Gandhi,
Say adieu to Chacha Nehru, and
Land in a pre- independent India.

Come, see the year, when
Discovered was this place, Hazaribagh,
By some English explorer, lost
In these famous dense woods.

The region, under Ramgarh Raj
Inhibited wilds- Animals, Beasts, plants.
Tribals, the original people dwelt,
In a society unconventional, matriarchal.

Land where each mark on mud,
Reminded of a hungry tiger, searching
For some clue, footprints, scent,
Of a fearless wandering Sambhar.

The man, amazed, cleared a part
Of this true Mother Nature,
Erected thus, the very first human
Dwelling, the Hazaribagh House.

Soon came along his wife,
Two little fairies, his daughters.
Unaware of what happened
Politically there, in New Delhi.

The living room echoed with joys,
Study, lit with damp flicker of a lantern.
Kitchen, now prepared cuisines
While the first family lived in Hazaribagh House.

Moments passed, time swept,
People came, People went.
The family lived and stayed, while
Lantern never forgot to light.

Something happened since then.
More land got cleared, some offices built,
A little township started, but stayed
With pride and perk, the Hazaribagh House.

A good time further sailed,
The daughters now married, moved
Out unwillingly with their husbands,
To some big town of luxury.

Old man, still left in the study
Accompanied by the same lantern
Looked back in past, remembered how
A black buck once slept at the door.

Independence came, died his wife.
First and only wound to the man,
Who now rested his head on the table,
Beside the lantern of Hazaribagh House.

A bus now runs across the forest,
Crossing a haunted brown manor,
A broken red villa, an empty yellow shelter.
Looking through the window, one wonders,

Is it among these, the Hazaribagh House?

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  1. #1 by Cherlyn on April 7, 2011 - 10:36 AM

    I can’t pick a favourite, I liked them all so much :) I found with this batch there was a lot of different and interesting styles and structures being used, which I found really interesting. Great job to all the authors!

    I look forward to the next batch of April poems!

    • #2 by Tom Baker on April 25, 2011 - 11:35 AM

      It can be hard to pick a favorite poem. It’s not like photography. I am glad you liked them Cherlyn.

  2. #3 by Mihir Vatsa on April 5, 2011 - 10:26 AM

    I love all of the poetry pieces featured here though the first one is my personal favourite!! :)

    Thanks for featuring me as well. :P

    • #4 by Tom Baker on April 25, 2011 - 11:33 AM

      I liked the first one too Mihir.

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