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redzone posted in the group National Poetry Month
April Poetry #5
April 5 is just another day
in a year already a fourth
of its life gone. But this day
has no song, unless you want
to count the rhythm and noise
of imperial bombs sent by
the “shining light on top of
the hill”, who has always promised
the grave and the slave. April 5,
just another day where they
say all this hor…Read More![Profile Photo]()
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Willow posted in the group National Poetry Month
Leave a Message at the Tone…
I can hear my phone buzzing
on the dresser across the room
like a fly…dogging my face
it’s distractingas I give myself over
…in every possible sense…
to his ferocious ministrationshis smoky eyes burning holes in my soul
setting my nerve endings ablaze
flickers spreading quickly
a…Read More![Profile Photo]()
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NAVINA posted in the group National Poetry Month
THE STORM’S EYES
Tornado you seek
The darkness
I feel weak ..
The skies in complete blackness
Your power I’ll see all week.Clouds move like spilled ink
On a grey canvas
That I left to streak
Brushing with slugs
As an artist, you can’t peek.My art smears as the storm claims
Bold dark colors
Watch how it fades
I’m happy…Read More![]()
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twofiftythree posted in the group National Poetry Month
almost
I was gonna jump
but I needed someone to watch
so I waited
and while waitin
the moment passed
and I forgot why I climbed
so I came back down
quieter than I went up -
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Curly Grace posted in the group National Poetry Month
The Tenth Muse Speaks: Whispers Across Lesbos
She walks on the edge of the wind,
voice braided with sea and olive,
each syllable a spark struck
from the tinder of longing.Island-born, where the waves fold
like a lover’s arm,
she counts the pulses of hearts
as though each beat were a star.You burn me
my limbs betray m…Read More2 Comments-
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Curly Grace, what a great opening line: “She walks on the edge of the wind”. While I enjoyed reading the entirety of your poem, that last verse will be remembered by me. Poets, poetry, should never be “contained” or constrained. -Curt
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Thank you, Curt. That means a lot. I’m glad those lines stayed with you. And I agree… poetry needs room to breathe.
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I was thinking this morning about that phrase march to the beat of your own drum. But the noise of the world is so loud these days it’s difficult to hear it. Those last lines…damn!