Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Aug 2015
Heather Kingston
The winds of change blow ever near
Can't take away this taste of fear
Storms are brewing in my mind
Maybe calm will follow and fate will be kind
Or maybe my life will turn upside down
My anxious smiles will become a frown
The eternal flame of hope burnt out
with an everlasting shower of disappointment and doubt
Or maybe happiness will step right in
take away the shadows of the night
that crawl around in my brain until daylight
My lust for life will re-appear, and drive away that lonely tear
Hope will never fade as long as I am alive
For a better life I will continue to strive
Maybe this, maybe that
Who knows what will happen to me
I'll just make a wish, cross my fingers, then wait and see.
 Aug 2015
Donall Dempsey
The forced march
from concentration camp

to concentration camp

from finally
Flohan to Terezin

the day before
- the war ends.

His soul is strong
the body weakened.

"Do you know Robert Desnos..."
"I am Robert Desnos..."

They recognise him
from his Man Ray photo.

Death allows him
the grace to die

as himself
once more

not this
nameless number

an animal.

He holds a rose
they've given him.

He holds on to it
even when it dies.

Refusing to let go
of a beauty

he can hold
he can touch.

His 'head full of
transformations."

The alchemy of thought.

As if a world
could be created

recreated
from it.

This rose is
cremated with him.

He is that
"unthinkable" thing

" a soul
without a body"

a dream
of words.

I speak him

to remember him
into being.


Leçons de ténèbres, literally translated lessons of darkness, is a genre of French baroque music which developed from the polyphonic lamentations settings for the tenebrae service of Renaissance composers such as Sermisy, Gesualdo, Tallis, and Tomás Luis de Victoria into virtuoso solo chamber music.

The tenebrae service uses the text of the Lamentations of Jeremiah, originally deploring the Siege of Jerusalem (587 BC) and subsequent desolation of the city, but applied allegorically to the three days of mourning for Christ between his crucifixion and resurrection.

https://youtu.be/4C8yLai1tHw

Les Ténèbres and Ténèbres, o Ténèbres are poems by Robert Desnos.

***
Early 1945. In the Czech town of Terezín, a group of prisoners are taken out of their barracks and loaded into a truck. The prisoners are silent, knowing the fate that awaits them; they are on their way to the gas chambers. Soon they arrive and are unloaded from the truck. Silently, they begin to move toward the gas chamber, the mood crushed under the weight of knowing what is inevitable. Even the guards are silent, having sent countless others down the same long walk.

Suddenly, a man jumps out of line. In an animated manner, he grabs the hand of the person in front of him and begins to read their palm. He says he sees lines for a long life, many grandchildren, and abundant joy. Soon, a person nearby offered his palm, and again the soothsayer forecasts success, happiness, and a long life. The other prisoners come to life, eagerly thrusting their palms towards the man, and for each of them he foresees long and happy lives.

The guards become confused. They have no idea what to make of this, even less of an idea of what to do. Their assignment is routine; they know the outcome and so did the prisoners. The man, a prisoner much like all the ones before that they had sent to their deaths, is crossing some line for them. The palm reader is creating a new reality; he is changing what everyone knew. He is so effective that the guards no longer have the will to go through with the executions. When faced with the stark proof that the people they were taking to their deaths were in fact living, and loving beings, they flinch.  They order the prisoners back onto the truck and took them back to the barracks.
 Aug 2015
Donall Dempsey
Outside the hatch
he turns      slowly

and talks

but I can't make out
the words he says

they fall from his lips
dangle and float in space

outside the backyard fence
a hill grabs the moon

and then slowly
lets it go again

the moon floating just
out of reach

laughs; 'Go on...do that again! '
the hill smiles: 'Just you wait... just you wait! '

the moon beams
as a little bird

gingerly(as if at first unsure)  
steps out into space

and then
finds flight

take hold of it
as if

it had only discovered it that minute
and absconds with it

the darkness
barks

and falls
into silence

and then another part
of the darkness

barks back

held
in  a gentleness

a leaf tiptoes
down the breeze

as if descending
a spiral staircase

Time holds
its breath

outside
the hatch

flat on his back
the earth a little blue ball he has let go of

the astronaut
slowly turns

and waves

& I
wave back.
 Aug 2015
Elisa Maria Argiro
We are the ones who feel
almost everything.

Squeezed like sun-warmed
wine grapes, pressed
like fragrant coffee beans,
distilled like kilos of flowers,
may these memories of our lives
become good poems.
To you, my new family,here in this international place for poets, and always, to Eliot York, for building it.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
 Aug 2015
Mike Hauser
You look and see the shape the world is in
Your so afraid any day it's going to end
Let me let you in on a secret friend

You can never PRAY enough

Your asking me if that helps
I'm asking you if not then what else
As the world around you quickly melts

You can never PRAY enough

The moral collapse of society
The putrid air that we all breathe
Needs that drive us to our knees

You can never PRAY enough

The knuckle heads that are in charge
The loony's running freely in the yard
The very best in get well cards

You can never PRAY enough

Even when it's all running smooth
Be it Latitude or Longitude
Word of mouth or in the news

You can never PRAY enough

My advice to those out there
Retirement age or Kinder care
Here or there or anywhere

You can never PRAY enough
 Aug 2015
Rainey Birthwright
Light over the village
Is breaking my eyes
The sea is so calm
And so are the skies
The cliffs are raining
White birds, little stars
Such a lovely wee spot
To sit down and take in
There is peace all round
Now is a new beginning
What is past will come
Again to who is faithful
Light over the village
 Aug 2015
Amy H
Shrouded in Liberty
it moves across the land
gorging on the hearts
and faith of
small ones;
they whose homes
invaded by the cause,
depleted of life,
of love,
of choice,
find protection
a misnomer.
Buried deep in details
of little consequence
where minutia
is a governor
stealing choice
to feed the appetite
of this machine.
Where has gone
the mighty power
that once united all;
will Freedom
end this war
before a mighty fall?
Bring back the ghosts
that won it well
the proud, the free and brave;
their spirits needed in our own
to lead us from our grave.
Apathy would bury us,
cloaked in ignorance of bliss
while shrouded in Liberty
the beast deceives;
No army advancing
but what we're sold,
driving back the small ones
step by step;
the edge of a grave
ready for us to slip
into darkness.
Our liberties are being taken away.  Keep your eyes open.
Listen to the Beast, poem by Amy Hilton Anson by Amy Hilton 4 #np on #SoundCloud
http://soundcloud.com/amy-hilton-4/the-beast-poem-by-amy-hilton
 Aug 2015
moss
< sunset >
bring me your celestial wonders of light
show me your colors of pluto and mars
quickly before the sky fades into the night

< swing set >
sway me so high that I fall into the clouds
launch me up into the moon and stars
quickly before we're covered by darkness' shroud
 Aug 2015
Megan
I am a Christian.
Do not look at me differently,
Do not roll your eyes or scoff.
Do not lump me in with every other Christian
You have ever met
Or heard of.
Do not assume that I am like the Westboro Baptists,
Or that I only believe what I do because of my parents.
Do not question my sanity.
Do not assume you know my views or my reasons,
But please, ask.
Do not suppose I will be extreme,
Or that I live under a rock.
Do not think I am naïve or a saint,
Or that I expect everyone to live
By what I think is right.
Do not presume that I fit your stereotypes, whatever they might be.
Do not take for granted that I have no idea how to have fun.
Do not associate church or my faith with being boring.
Do not suppose that you understand me or the depths of what I believe.


Please just do not assume that because you know one, you know all.
I am a Christian.
Ask me why.
Ask me about my thoughts on the world,
Or on political issues.
I will gladly tell you whatever you’d like to know.
Ask me about the wonderful moments of God I see around me.
Ask me what evidence I have.
Tell me all about what you believe.
Talk to me without reservations or awkwardness.
Ask me what traditions my family has, or how we celebrate holidays.
Ask me what makes me different.
Laugh with me about the children I babysit during Bible study.
Cry with me when someone passes away.
Look with me to see the ways God is working in the world.
Give thanks with me before dinner.
Join me at church one day to see what it’s like for yourself.
Love with me all the lost people in the world.
Love yourself.
I am a Christian.
I did this for a particular writing class, and even though the poem is rough and far from what I am used to, I wanted to put it out there. Please give me your feedback, I want to hear your thoughts!
 Aug 2015
GaryFairy
If you were broken, and i had the parts to fix you
i would work on you both night and day
but, i'm afraid the parts that i use would mix you
and take the best parts of you away
 Aug 2015
nivek
you have to step into poet mode
an inkling of deepest depth
crosses in front of your eyes
and a first line is born and
you are born with it
gushing along when the waters first broke
splashing around until you regain your mind
ticking along in everyday mode
wearing wellington boots and a cape
the super hero ready for anything
There's nothing quite like
saying hello to someone
who doesn't remember
who you are.

They tilt their head, maybe
squint their eyes,
but nothing materializes.
Your face means nothing.

Even when you saved
the world together when
you were both ten

or wrestled on old
Mrs. Snyder's yard
for an autographed
Ken Griffey Jr. card

or fell in and out
of love with the same girl
throughout the tenth and
eleventh grade.  

Now your face means nothing
and a world of memory is
shattered against the soft
edges of your heart.  

Maybe its troubling that
moments spent so earnestly
could be
forgotten

or the idea that you could be, too.  

The truly valuable people
come like drops
of water from
a sandy canteen

so forgive me while I
pick up the pieces of
myself that broke
off with you.
 Aug 2015
Knights
I would travel across all the galaxies
Just to be with you

Even if it took me centuries
For you there's nothing I wouldn't do

I'd explore every planet
Just to find you

I'd collect all the stars I'd come across
So on the day I do find you

I'll give you all the stars as a gift and reminder
Of my fascinating journey

Of looking for and finding you
*My love
Next page