Category Archives: Poetry

Truth

Photo by Magda Ehlers on Pexels.com

Raw, primal emotion

So hard to show,

So hard to abide

Still it wants to flow.

Do we tell the truth

Or do we hide

In shadows, in darkness

Never confide.

Speak or be quiet

Hide or shine

Choose your feelings,

Or mine.

Speaking truth

Exposes your soul

Exposes you

naked and whole.

Unburden yourself

Set yourself free

Completely, uniquely

Let your truth be.

Death

By Linda Robertson Somers

Photo by Ludvig Hedenborg on Pexels.com

Death came to me in the still of night, and took me by the hand.

He said come with me my child to a far more peaceful land.

He wore a velvet cloak of the deep and darkest black,

And with him was a magic sack that he carried ‘cross his back.

When I inquired of him as to what the contents might be;

He said it was the souls of men who’d died from the beginning through eternity.

He touched my lips three times with his and pulled me from my bed.

He said I had no need to fear for soon I would be dead.

He took my hand and off we flew

thru walls and trees and morning dew.

I saw a house upon a hill

with dungeons dark and rooms to fill.

There was a game laid out to play,

and I knew I wouldn’t walk away.

In the corner were the bones

in their forever red rock homes.

The cactus and the rose

By Linda Robertson Somers

One time in a far off desert land

Where only few survive

There grew a cactus strong and tall

Who somehow stayed alive.

The cactus won all men’s respect

For her spirit was so strong

That no one pulled her from the ground

Or did her any wrong.

But the cactus wasn’t satisfied

With this earthly plan

She wanted to be beautiful

And win the love of man.

One day on a midsummers night

As she began to doze

The magic of her wish came true

And changed her to a rose.

The first one to behold the rose

Was a traveler passing through,

He saw a thing of beauty

Where once a cactus grew.

He smiled as he plucked her down

That was all she knew

Man’s love, for which she died was through

He tossed her to the ground.

The Night

The need to write welling up,

Spilling over

It’s late, but here I sit

Soaking up the night

Feeling the day slip away

Stress, worries

Melt away

Along with the noise

The hustle and bustle

Of life fades away

Leaving me

Just me

My thoughts and fears

Hopes and dreams

Creativity flows here

And here alone

Poetry, fiction

Stories pour out

Only in the quite of the night

The rest of the house fast asleep

The night, she is mine

And I don’t want to share

The divine

Speaks to me here

My muse

Embedded in the dark

The quiet, the rolling away of Life

Solitude, introspection

My life plays out

For my inspection

Searching my soul,

Questioning

Everything happens

In the stillness of the night

All good things

All my thoughts and prayers

Are buried here

In the deep, dark stillness

Of the night

All the secrets of my Life

Still. Quiet. Night.

The pieces of my Life

 

 

FUCK THESE WORDS

By Sian Kelly, guest contributor.

 

Fuck. These. Words.

Uncooperative, ungrateful things.

Ink wrestled onto a page.

Stubborn things drug kicking and screaming and flailing

        From the abyss of my mind, to be

Thrown violently down on beds of paper.

Thoughts in captivity.

Words held against their will.

Bound up in ropes of what is considered safe….

Words gagged with the duct tape of

Convention, propriety, normalcy.

Fuck these words,

Shivering, trembling shapes that shy away

          From my tender touch.

My children with the audacity to snitch me out

           And accuse me of abuse.

Fuck.

These.

Words.

The Youth of Today

I don’t understand the youth of today,

You say.

How were they raised?

With this sense of entitlement.

To be what they want.

Made up things,

You think.

Gay, Bi, Transgender

Upending social norms, expectations

Not bowing, not bending

What is gender fluid anyway

What does that even mean

You inquire.

Befuddled, confounded, confused.

Consternation, aggravation.

Why can’t they just

Act right

Act like you?

I look and I see that it’s true.

I don’t understand the youth of today

How were they raised?

With this sense of entitlement?

Yes, entitlement

But not like you say.

They are entitled I tell you.

Entitled to their own lives,

Their truth, their beauty

Their freedom.

Yes, freedom.

Freedom from you.

From expectations, condemnations

Judgments and scorn.

By their own values they are bound,

Not by yours.

Yes, I ask as I watch in amazement

How were they raised?

How were they raised to survive

Through the pain,

To dance in the rain.

To be who they are?

What freedom

I admire from afar.

I wish I had come of age

With that strength,

With that fire.

With that courage

To be who you are.

Motherhood Loss

Pain rushes in, like a familiar but unwanted friend.

My heart ripped open, does this awful aching ever end

Why does motherhood strip my soul bare, it hurts so much to care

Protecting your child, an illusion. Can’t rise above this confusion

Agony, despair, drops me as I stumble
Pain, anger, hatred burns me tilI I crumble

A pile of smoking ashes from which I cannot rise

A deep ocean of pain in which all my happiness dies

No one ever told me love was so distressing, no one ever told me life was so depressing

The Fray

The world is full of pain

The world is so unfair

To those who are different

The world doesn’t care

 

Women, minorities

The poor

The downtrodden, the weak

What’s the score

 

Screaming silently it seems

No one seems to hear

Or at least to respond

To the pain and fear

 

Trying in vain to fix it

But others deny it’s broken

How can you fix it

If it’s not broken

 

Frustration, anger

That’s how it Plays out

Then it’s their fault

Not allowed to shout

 

Silently scream

in pain and frustration

Deny the reality

of your station

 

That is what

The world wants

But screw the world

Ignore the taunts

 

Be a warrior, speak out

It’s the only way

to make the world better

wade into the fray

 

 

 

 

 

Epiphany

Stillness. Quiet. Nothing stirs.

This is a memory, sublime;

struggle to see it clearly,

through the swirling mists of time.

 

Standing over a boiling pot

of water, in a trance, caught,

steam rising, water roiling,

with what danger is the past fraught?

 

Gazing back in time and space

In the water you can scry.

Into many other worlds

You now can happily spy.

 

Stuck, standing still, falling in,

crossing the veil, with the sight.

Struggling to understand,

Remember with all your might.

 

What we really are, and why

In a flash, through a rip in time,

you finally catch it, see it

the epiphany you find.

 

Creation makes perfect sense

Your soul begins to rise up,

but in an instant, instead,

you fall, the loss is abrupt.

 

For a split second you saw,

you understood everything.

Then in a flash it was gone,

A memory of nothing.

 

You can’t forget it, ever

But you’ll never have it back.

You know that you once knew it,

You will always feel its lack.