Man School

Man School by R.H. Alexander

Man School

She has decided

she will give you everything

everything she has saved for some moment

even if it will never happen

she would give it gladly.

In the glow from the willing

in the humbling generosity

in the trembles in her voice

in the way the tears come

bow your head

once and for all

into the kindness and learn.

Then She Looked Up by R.H. Alexander

Then she looked up for the first time

Something had broken through the silence, a sound a sigh in a breath

perhaps it was a weight shifted

or the weight of the silence itself

or the way I pulled at my wrists

the desire we ached for

the infinite weight of desire itself or all of these things that had waited so long.

And now, where is her voice

but better to ask, where is mine? 

<strong>R.H. Alexander</strong>
R.H. Alexander

R.H. Alexander has been writing poetry since he was seven, when his mother showed him how her typewriter could work miracles. 

After a career that spanned forty years starting in journalism and ending as a representative to manufacturers in the outdoor sports world, he began writing new poems in 2010 and has not stopped since.

Alexander lives in Minnesota, is married to Pamela, and has two daughters and seven grandchildren. 

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A Man Can Dream

A Man Can Dream

A Man Can Dream by Jarrius Smith

A Man Can Dream

I have big dreams.

I’m trying to become a man

They remember like Michaelangelo.

A literary legend like Maya Angelou.

Words so concrete

That they have trouble spelling it like

The name DeAngelo.

Intangible Lines resembling that of music.

Barry Manilow.

Organic

Writing

That makes people

Panic.

It’s not even a foreign language,

But they Can’t translate

How I planned

To make something so

Dynamic.

Explosive verses.

Volcanic.

Simple to read.

Specific Characteristics like Atlantis.

Yet, different like

The Pacific

Versus

The Atlantic.

Stanzas

Turn from what’s expected

To oceanic.

A change of pace and they can’t stand it.

It’s like my critics are the iceberg

Trying to sink the Titanic.

When it comes to rhyming poetry, I want to expand it.

It’s been dead for years,

And no one demands it.

It can withstand the test of time in the

Right person’s hands.  

<strong>Jarrius "Yenaros" Smith</strong>
Jarrius “Yenaros” Smith

Jarrius Smith’s mix of lyricism, detail, and style is a dangerous force to be reckoned with. He is known in the literary community (on Wattpad.com and, most notably, Sweek.com) by his alias “Yenaros”. 

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Cut Me Deeper

Cut Me Deeper by Nikki C. Mercer

Cut Me Deeper

Let me lick the blade
So you can cut me deeper
It's easier that way
Our death so much quicker
 
<strong>Nikki C. Mercer</strong>
Nikki C. Mercer

Nikki C Mercer is a wordsmith residing in Adelaide Australia. She manages a family, financial career and passion for creative writing.

Nikki’s pursuits include endurance running, eating way too much sugar and experiencing the depth of life. Nikki is co-author and published poet in a number of anthologies worldwide.

 Connect with Nikki on Instagram by searching for handle: @ImagineExploreCreate

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Freedom

Freedom by Emma Major

Freedom
On paper wings spread wide
I fly
Soaring
Free of my confinement I breathe
Deeply
Thoughts elevate
I embrace
Create
Words resonate I write
Freedom...
Peace on paper
Whilst inside we hide
My mind swirls with energy
Stop thinking
Words must write
On paper wings, they soar
Peace at last...
Take flight
In plagues of old
Creators embraced
Time closeted
As gifts
Shakespeare sat
Contained safely 
Pen to paper
King Lear
Isolation
Not a punishment
Free to explore
Take flight  
<strong>Emma Major</strong>
Emma Major

Emma is a mum, a wife, a pioneer lay minister, a poet, author and blind wheelchair user.  She lives just outside Reading, UK.

Emma started writing for an audience in 2009 and writes most days.  You can read her thoughts on faith, life and mental health at http://llmcalling.blogspot.com

Find details about Emma’s latest book on Facebook at:
https://facebook.com/littleguybook/ or follow Emma on Twitter @emmuk74 or Instagram

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Tormented

Tormented by Louise Carmeli Montes

I started knowing

the feeling of emptiness

When I am in a room

full of crowded people

Gestalt by Louise Carmeli Montes

My soul is awake 

but my body is sleeping

My heart is numb

but it is still beating

My mind is complex

but it is still thinking

My wholeness

will always be greater

than the sum of its parts

Over-thinking vs. Over-feeling by Louise Carmeli Montes

I stand amidst the blistering waves
exceptionally placid 
among the chaos
weeping, crying
Oh God, save me!

Save me from this feeling
that I can't fight any longer
I resort to dream,
but not make dreams as my master

I simply want to feel
the greatest depth of joy
Just as when the soul 
lies on the green, green grass of home
and just like how the fresh air
pampers my sanity

Be brave, sweet darling!  
Only if it is easier said than done
then I should have not wished for this curse
because as I cherish over thinking, 
I embrace over feeling

<strong>Louise Carmeli Montes</strong>
Louise Carmeli Montes

Poetry is the art of her soul. Seeing life in a deeper perspective is her source of inspiration in writing. When emotions can’t be said upfront, poetry speaks.

Louise is from the Philippines. She finished a degree in Psychology and she  considers poetry as her one of her ways of expressing her inner most thoughts and feelings.

“I know I am still a work in progress, but this does not stop me to look at the beauty of writing poems. I want to share words that can connect to the emotions of people.”

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A Doctor in China

A Doctor in China by Kavindi M. Jayasinghe

Chaos rained all over the country,
Helpless was I, with my team
A virus, destructive since the day of entry
Never did we assume, not even in a dream.
We could’ve controlled it, underestimated did we
Just like a common cold, it’ll depart away
Yet, it strives inside my people’s bodies with glee
Confirmed that it arrived here, to perpetually stay.

I discerned a mother weeping, clutching her son,
Poor child, was insubstantial for battle.
Immunity, the moat of a castle in the long run,
Incinerating him, was all we could do through the hassle.
Worked like robots from dawn till dusk, into the night,
Meals and sleep became a rare luxury.
My wife, my boy cried with all their might,
When I left for work, shouting their aching plea.

An oath is an oath, a promise for good service
Mind you, it ain’t easy dragging your protesting brain,
Inside premises, spelling death in every crevice
It seemed incessant, as the death toll rose, numbers insane.
The world carries the label, “Made in China”,
On clothes, in kitchens, even on the beds they snooze on
I catch whispers, that death too was “Made in China”
Kept in the dark were we, until it spread full on.

Often I feel my body give up, fatigue wash over me
Yet, I keep going as long as I could stay up
As I’ve seen, numerous heads fall to death & be
I pray, I work, I pray, I work, like a mantra for tuneup
Often I feel, mother Earth seems to strike back
For the beings we’ve killed, animals & trees
No wonder we suffer, surviving barely through nature’s attack
It’s time to show affection, my fellow humans please.

Dark Times by Kavindi M. Jayasinghe

Feeling of panic,
Rising globally.
Avaricious humans,
Basked in your glory
Ruining nature’s purity
Today,
Our sins expiated with lives sacrificed
Oh dear world, have mercy.

We scurry around,
Busy with,
Attempts to discover
Life on other planets.
Causing chaos on you,
Treating you with contempt.
Today,
You’ve brought us to our knees
Oh dear world, have mercy.

I see your immunity system
Has taken over, battling
An overgrowing virus named “Covetous Humans”
On both knees, here I am
Oh dear world, have mercy

<strong>Kavindi M. Jayasinghe</strong>
Kavindi M. Jayasinghe

I’m Kavindi M. Jayasinghe (KMJ), (IG handle – @kmj_poetic) a 21 year old medical student at Manipal Medical College. I’m a Sri Lankan born and I’ve been writing since my childhood days.

Poetry and writing has been my solace and passion for years. I prefer writing about the scars that need a voice and aspects that aren’t discussed about more, but I adore love poetry too.

I’m a pianist and music is an irrevocable part of my life. A proud optimist, who is a dreamer and an owner of a strong heart! Hope to save people’s lives and do some good in the world.

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Threads

Threads by Blue Collared Owl

Two things happened
when I snapped the thread
that was holding me back
my heart fell off my sleeve

and I stumbled forward
without grace
and fell down upon my knees

sometimes what we see as holding us back
was holding us up and together

and sometimes mountains are just mountains

not meant to be climbed

and not all rivers find the ocean

and not all fathers find the time

and maybe not all of the threads you unravel

will bring you peace of mind

The Farmer’s Wife by Blue Collared Owl

So swings the scythe 
with just one hand
when the other hand lacks the muscle

against the grain
as the pendulum sways
with each swath 
revealing more stubble 

but still she hangs on
because her faith is her strength
like freshly dampened soil 
hugs a shovel

till the harvest is done
and the union has won
she’ll stand in the field
feeling humbled

because that’s what it means
when you take on a vow
as you plow through the wind and the rain

she is bound to the earth
her hands covered in dirt
but she trusts he will wash it away…

<strong>Blue Collared Owl</strong>
Blue Collared Owl

I am a blue collared owl,
a husband and a father,
a voice for the mute in the grand coalescence, 
I am a fish transcending water

I nurse most my poems over nights shifts
I know that nothing here belongs to me
I’ve seen god while watching birds
And I believe that poetry should be humbling above all. 

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Long Distance

Long Distance by Katherine Ngo

two thousand miles bathe between the heat of our hands
yet I still feel his fingers dance down my spine
and into the crevices of my aching heart

Kissed by Katherine Ngo

I traced his lips with the tip of my tongue
painting portraits with the way he tasted

<strong>Katherine Ngo</strong>
Katherine Ngo

Hello! 

I’m a 22 year old Californian who loves poetry and art. Ever since my first poem written during sixth grade science camp, I haven’t been able to stop writing. Undeniably, I’m a hopeless romantic. I’m constantly daydreaming, doodling, and writing on scraps of paper. I love to paint pictures with words and will continue to do so for as long as I can. 

Poetry has always been my form of escape. I’ve used it to cope with difficult situations and to manage emotional stress. It has become an essential part of my life and I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

I’m grateful toward poetry and everything its helped me with and I’m so excited to share my work with everyone. 
Thank you so much for the support! I look forward to what the future holds. 

Instagram: k.n.poem

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What Kind of Song Are You?

What Kind of Song Are You? by Cheyenne Marcelus

What kind of song are you?

Strung through the saddle like satin

Or like barbed wire,

Colliding across cilia

Or screeching off the wall,

Smooth like jazz,

Like a Manhattan,

Like warm maple syrup,

Freshly lotioned hands gliding across a lover’s back

Or bass like thunder

Roaring down pain so they all know,

So they all will feel

Loudness like lightning

Striking violently

Setting the ground ablaze

A fire that grows and consumes

A trail of lovers burned alive?

What kind of song are you?

A lullaby

Or a drive by

Shouts and shrills singing praises

And professing lowliness

Are you like gospel?

Hands high

And hips low

Shake the devil off

Round through the pews

Grabbing of hands

Latching together of loved ones

A community at the altar

Bowed before the throne of togetherness

Are you a dying genre

Of fatherless kids

Rocked to bed by styrofoam cups

Filled with lava

Passed from mouth to mouth

Destructive words geniusly parsed together

For the catchphrases to the detriment of a nation?

The ornaments fall from the alter with each syllable

A community member detaches with each lash of derogatory lyric

Like a whip across her womb.

<strong>Cheyenne Marcelus</strong>
Cheyenne Marcelus

Cheyenne Marcelus is a health research professional by day, Poet by night, and round-the-clock mother and wife. She is the author of the poetry collection Good to Me: A Poetic Journey to Self-Acceptance and Self-Preservation.

She has performed at various spoken word events across Canada and the United States, and is a former Southern Regional Winner and State Finalist of the Mississippi Poetry-Out-Loud Contest.

Cheyenne is a Columbia, Mississippi native residing in Ottawa, Ontario with her husband and son. Follow her on Instagram @cheyennemarcelus or check out www.cheyennemarcelus.com for more.

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Andy

Andy by Terra Vagus

Black coffee smells like-

Early mornings and memories

of when I was young and not allowed

to indulge in such things.

Tobacco smells like-

Early mornings and conversations

I never counted on ending.

I never knew I’d miss you for such a length of time.

Never stepped outside myself to realize our separate journeys-

Until my last hug to you that night on that gurney.

I really don’t know that you even knew it was me.

Grieving your departure was a robbed opportunity.

Now I’m trapped with flash floods of sadness and painful memories. Forever longing for just one more morning of black coffee, tobacco, and conversations with you.

<strong>Terra Vagus</strong>
Terra Vagus

Terra Vagus is an introverted 20-something who resides in the Pacific Northwest. When they aren’t writing, they either have their nose in a book or they are out scouring abandoned and creepy places for anything paranormal. Terra Vagus is a lover of animals, literature, ghosts and the Earth. 

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