It is not the day that seems special, But the people who make it so. For it is just another day; The same sun, the same sky And the same universe that guides the pass. But you speak of it as a day of remembrance And insist it be celebrated.
But is a day worth celebrating Life? And given you, given your love, Celebration and gratitude are an enormity. Life and Death are a game of scores; Each second that brings us closer adds on to Life And each moment that pulls us apart add on to Death. You ask for my choice of gift, But I already have you. What could be more dear, than a heart which beats in a rhythm similar? A soul that bows in prayer for Eternal togetherness, And happiness that unleashes at the smile that brings the dawn to your day.
You urge, and I finally ask you for a gift And you instinctively say yes. Don’t, for this may hurt, promising a thing prior knowing its price. And I go on to tell you: If ever a lonely soul you stumble upon, A shoreless sailor, with all hope gone, Promise me you’ll hold her hand And be the loveliest roses on her barren land. For a heart that is dilapidated, Life happens not in worldly dreams, But in a feather-touch that brings joy untold And shuts out one’s inner screams.
Thus begins the celebration of the heartbeat, knowing that Gone is the chasm of bitterness; A life awaits anew. I say this, for I have once been a shoreless sailor. Give you such a life, know that our love lives then As the Heavens doth forever.
Tis my birthday today, and you can’t refuse me. All I ask for someone, just like me, is a reason to celebrate; Not just a day, but a life; A life that gives glories, a life that gives pain, But above all, a life that brings you home And prepares you to set sail again.
Joyasmita Ghosh
Joyasmita is from West Bengal, India. Current job: pursuing Graduation course in Mathematics.
Hobbies: Sleeping, watching cartoons, sky-gazing and muser. A hardcore bibliophile and a music lover. Instagram handle: read_andrelate Focus for writing: A break from everything boring.
It's so close Very close Thus why does it seem so far? As the feet approach The view gets distant Luring the heart to walk infinite miles Grazing along the broad wide road There lies the path to love Entangled in a circle
What seemed nigh stands afar Feet are swollen to the kneel Strength fades away at each step From the eyes Flows two rivers down the cheek Why should the pursuit seize? When you've entertained love's wonder How it mends broken hearts Keeps hope alive And stripes stench of sorrow
Its path remains circular And it soon reaches you When patience is not exasperating Best you take a position within Always alert Love soon smiles at you
Peter Anko
Hi, my name is Peter Anko, and I was born in the early nineties. I am a Nigerian and a teacher of English Language and literature.
I enjoy reading, writing, editing print and playing the keyboard. Writing is serious for me. I write poems, short stories and screenplays. Someday, I wish to publish my work. Catch my thoughts on Instagram – Peteranko1
I have been so sick in my life That the sun and the moon Ceased to exist Time was nothing The days and The weeks and The months Melted together While I floated And the rest of the world Kept moving forward Around me Kept moving forward Passed me
I have been so sick in my life That the good days Terrified me So comfortable in my poverty That the warmth and the love Of other people Made me want to kill myself In my self-imposed exile I observed groups of strangers Laughing and enjoying each other And felt the sinking feeling Of my own impotence I have been so sick in my life That I've lied through my teeth
Because to get help And admit my sickness Would mean Hurting my family I am not a man I am not a human being I am diminished I am dehumanized By the sickness inside of me I wake up every morning Into the stench Of reaching for something I'll never grasp again To float is all that I have
Jeff Thomas
I grew up in a small rural village in the thumb of Michigan. Currently, I reside in Washington, MI where I work with a sub-contractor to Home Depot as a fence installer.
My most prominent hobbies outside of reading and writing are all related to music. I like to sing and play guitar. The word is out, and I have become the karaoke entertainment for friends and family. I love listening to classic rock records. I love vinyl, and I’m totally addicted to Dylan and Zeppelin and any Jack White project. I’ve made it a point this year to pay attention and listen to new releases in pop and indie music, it has rejuvenated me spiritually/creatively to see so many young people making great stuff. In my spare time I also record stuff for Soundcloud and make cds for people close to me. After a few tumultuous years writing became kind of a therapeutic exercise, it wasn’t until recently when a friend read some of my stuff that I had lying around in notebooks I started considering being published.
My goal as a writer is to keep working on improving my work and get books published. I would love to be travelling and doing readings and meeting people. On tour in 2015 Jack White paused mid Madison Square Garden concert to say “I hope it feels good when you need it to.” And that’s how I feel about my writing. I don’t want people to feel as bad and be as lost as I’ve been in my life. If I can use my writing to help someone take the edge off for just a moment, that’s a beautiful thing. That’ll always be the goal. I’m taking the heaven in me and giving it away. People can follow me on Instagram @jeffthomasprose and they can check out my Spotify playlists and Soundcloud home recordings @jeffreydthomas
You will meet people in your life who will stamp on your stem when they notice the blossoming rooted in your skin their crooked roots intertwined with decay, envy rotting their soil they cannot bare to see such beauty flourish from you
Others you meet in this life will water you even with their last turquoise droplet gently guiding as you fumble finding your way up and out from the earth they will admire you boasting to others of the purity within your leaves
Evenings
By Niamh Murphy
That evening I looked up losing my eyes in the thick black abyss that wrapped the sky so suffocatingly tight that I wondered how the stars did not shatter under such pressure
That evening I looked down losing my eyes within the crumbling of my body as grief tied a knot around my limbs I wondered how my bones did not shatter under such pressure
This evening I looked up placing my eyes on the azure gleam above that glazed so delicately I understood grief had flown from me and had strengthened my soul under such pressure
Niamh Murphy
I’m from Birmingham in the UK. I’m nineteen years old. I’m living in the beautiful city of Bath as a second year university student! I study creative writing, I absolutely love it. I get to explore so many writing forms, such as journalism, writing for children, life writing and even publishing. This year I’m studying spoken word within my course, which I can’t wait for because I’m performing my poetry. I’m a member of the spoken word society within my uni, which lets young aspiring writers like me share our work. I think this is so important within a university environment as poetry can be so emotionally based, I think it’s so important for uni students to listen to emotional content because they’re words that could help them with their own battles that maybe nobody knows about. Writing has always been a passion of mine, it’s my first love for sure. I’ve been writing poems and my own quotes in notebooks since I was around fourteen.
It’s almost been therapeutic for me, if I’ve had a challenge or a life experience I’ve found hard to digest, I naturally just start writing a poem about it. For example when I experienced grief, I wrote a collection of poems. This was a chronological set of poems, each exploring the individual stages someone encounters when grieving. Within this collection, I personified different elements of nature as helping the speaker through each step.
I love including imagery of the sun and moon in my poems, personifying them as beings that want to help and guide us; I also love personifying nature itself as a caring entity. The overall focus of my poetry is to help others with emotions and challenges in life and to embed a positive perception of tough situations so that the reader can be assured there’s light at the end of the tunnel. I love embedding modern issues for people of my age and all ages, such as feeling lost within yourself or worthless. I weave these issues into my writing in ways that provide my readers with fresh outlooks towards hard situations. hey
I have a book independently published on amazon titled ‘Emotionfull’, that almost takes the form of life advice. I was seventeen at the time and feel my writing style has changed since then, but I’m still proud to have achieved this. I have my poetry Instagram titled @niamhmurphy_poetry and would love it if you give it a follow as it’s where I post my work regularly. I also provide my followers with a little daily thought segment! Thank you so much for your time.
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Oh mother, I've got a fear so fatal I cannot rid of it in the rivers Oh father, I've got a fear so lethal I cannot rid of it in the skies Oh, this fear It's got its claws clasped into my skin Penetrated deep enough to reach my soul
My soul, my soul, my soul! Tell me of your hiding place Let me in on that secret space Is it close by or up so high? Tell me it's in space Right outside the milky way Tell me it's chill and nice Tell me it rains and hails Tell me joy is there Tell me a lie
Cloistered soul, I know you long to be set free I know you wish to breathe But breathing is condemned a sin A sin so horrific I cannot behold its magnitude
No eye must see you Not even a tiny glimpse For walls keep you safe Even during a hurricane
Oh pure soul, I'll feed you for sure I'll read you letters And I'll mold them into sounds Smooth as a cat's fur
They'll serve as a catalyst To your deepest desires They'll beg you to yell They'll beg you to scream They'll beg for their freedom With fisted balms and glaring eyes
Oh mother, let me spell it all Oh father, let me cry it out Oh, oh, oh, let me let me let me live
My fear's source is them They cannot know the truth They cannot know it all They must not know me Else I might become published Exposed In between their balms Right beneath their fingertips Naked In front of their eyes In front of their glaring soul In front of them
My Muse, My dearest friend, When I die, Look through my notebooks Set my words free Give them wings And let them fly But for now I'll howl into the night sky Hoping Ginsberg replies
My Morning Play
By Noor Alzaghal
Subdued lighting melts through the curtains Marking dawn As the hushed blue fills up my four walls Birds chirp their way up to the highest sky Then, Tranquil silence fills the empty pockets of the day And soon my dear Soon my Eyelids will become the main actors of this beautiful play. A Romeo and a Juliette aching to reunite.
Noor Alzaghal
Noor Alzaghal is a 19-years-old Palestinian young woman with a burning passion for arts of all sorts. She is mainly a writer of poetry and fiction, but she also likes to dip her fingers into some photography and drama from time to time. Although unpublished, she is in the process of writing a novel as well as publishing a collection of poems hopefully soon. At the moment, she is a full time English Language and Literature student at An-Najah National University, and she is the founder of Englitopia; A Creative Writing and Drama Group , which aims to provide a safe space for students to find and express themselves through art.
You can find her on Facebook and Instagram where she shares most of her work. Instagram: @noor_poetry Facebook Page: @Noor.Flicker ( https://fb.me/Noor.Flicker )
A golden explosion And I see your sun Rising again. I feel the warmth Of your rays on my skin As the breeze gently Touches my face. - I feel the drops of life As the sea sprays merrily. Oh what joy your Light brings to what had Been my bane in eternity - The dreaded night was long And all so even longer I had started to close my eyes To answer the calling oblivion Yet hope was never gone. - Now look at me and see I remained on your shore I am here - No thunder roared hard Enough to scare me. No storms raptured stronger to blow me off. No waves were big enough To wash me away. - In this life of misses And different sets Of chances, I am yours
Van Owen Sesaldo
From: Cebu City, Philippines Hobbies: Song writing, Poetry writing and reading, cooking – exotic dishes Day job: I work as an IT Director for a university in our city and I also run 2 tech startup companies: a music curation service for businesses and the other a market place for the services sector. Focus of my writing: Relationships, missed chances, seeing opportunities, love letters, love stories
Getting serious on the writing. I have already published my first book in Amazon Kindle Store. It’s entitled “On Your Shore: Of loves and love letters”. I post my pieces in Instagram as @owensesaldo and use #fatpoet and #fatpoetdaily as my main hashtags. I am also on Facebook and member of the Cafe as Van Owen Sesaldo. https://www.facebook.com/OwenSesaldo
Beware it’s never all good, read the board of the garden she trespassed into. The bunch of red roses, that dragged her out of the colourless world, stood with their stardom, in the middle of the land. Their alluring scent, their bright shades, sure did appear as a succour in her times of dullness.
She caressed the petals, felt the softness between her fingers, it had never been this merrier for her. The twinkle in her eyes, as that of the drops of dew, resting on the edges of the flower. She had finally found an ideal ally, one that would fly her to the content, she had longed for.
However, Courtesy her desires, with an attempt to grasp them, to have them alongside when she goes back, to savour her remaining time, to keep them to herself forever. Brooks of the scarlet liquid, oozed down her arms. She was smiling, She was hurting, but she couldn’t let go. She just couldn’t let go of the blooms, those blooms she came to know as her friends.
Hareeba Tirmizi
I’m Hareeba, a 20-year-old from the city of Rawalpindi, Pakistan. I’m a student currently pursuing Mechatronics Engineering from NUST. There’s a long list of my hobbies but writing, especially poetry, tops it. I’m not someone who has studied literature so I don’t really have any genres that I specifically follow or I do not require some incredible inspirations to come up with a write-up. I just write what I had experienced or what I’m feeling at that time of the day. It’s basically my world within words, and in the near future, I’d love to have a book of my own. Follow her on Instagram: @hbawrites_
It’s what we build thick walls to hide. We wake up every day and put on our armor. It’s the small child inside us. It’s that feeling you get when the power goes out and all you have is a flashlight. We are our own bodyguard, our own vault. Trying to stash away what others could use against us. But That’s no way to live… Is it? To live is to take chances, to make mistakes, to get a little messy. And sometimes, let people get to that soft spot, that child. Because not everyone is out there to hurt you. Because some people are worth the risk.
Jacklyn Ruth
My name is Jacklyn and I’m from Maryland. During the day, I work in Communications but every evening I take to the chair and write poetry, read a book, listen to relaxing Celtic music or play a video game. Writing has been a hobby of mine since childhood. But recently, my ultimate goal has been to have a book of my poems published. I write hoping my words make my readers feel something and that they take something away from my poetry. Social Media: @jacklynmae.poetry
There’s a certain beauty emitting from your skin, It entices knights to fall to their knees, Tangling them in the fakeness of your love, But they can’t see the venom you spit, How it burns their skin and poisons their minds, Enabling you to trap them in your web, So you can feed off their wholesome hearts,
And while they remain trapped, Awaiting your admiration,
You lust after the ogre and his dark magic spell, Believing his every word of romance, Blinded to his wrong doings by counterfeit promises, He bruises your heart, Breaks your soul, Telling other Princesses that their his Queen,
All the while Knight’s beg for your hand,
It's a shame you will never see,
Where your fairy tale ending was meant to be.
Nikki Thomas
Nikki is a photographer and writer from England. Most of her time is spent with looking after her one year old son, sewing or writing. However, in her spare time Nikki plays for her local ladies rugby team.
Nikki started writing poetry a few years ago in order to channel her emotions and deal with mental health and trauma. After her boyfriend found her journal and encouraged her that her writing was in fact good, Nikki started up an Instagram to share some of her pieces. With a new found confidence in her ability to write from the encouragement of her boyfriend and friends on Instagram Nikki is now in the process of writing her first collection of poems that she plans to publish in January 2020.
You're just a little broken But darling, aren't we all? You might be just so tired But darling, aren't we all?
Tired of living the life Of some human you're not Thinking of what might come The second this all stops
You're just a little broken But darling, aren't we all? You might just be so tired But darling, aren't we all?
Worried of what people may think When they find out the things That you hide away every night Under your bed, in that small box
You're just a little broken But darling, aren't we all? You might be just so tired But darling, aren't we all?
Scared of the backstabs That will come with the truth Of your life Which concerns no one but you
You're just a little broken But darling, aren't we all? You might be just so tired But darling, aren't we all?
This part that's broken of you This part is what shines the most This part that's broken of you That's how the light gets in
You're just a little broken But darling, aren't we all? You might be just so tired But darling, aren't we all?
Natalia Imran
I am Natalia Imran from Pakistan. My hobbies include writing poetry and articles. I also like to paint and draw sometimes or make dies. I am a student.
The focus of my writing is to deliver positivity, hope and clarity through my poetry. It is not just a hobby; it’s a passion. I take my writing seriously and wish to have a book published one day.
