Tag: magazines

Why You Should Never Stop Being an Artist by Sarba Roy

This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here. 

Like Me by K. Exum

Like Me:

Hearing your struggles hurts my soul‬
‪If only you knew how many times I was a tv to someone’s remote control‬
‪They make moves based on their opinions not knowing they ripping the uniqueness that you hold

‬Right out your great soul‬
‪The channels they switch you to leave scars in your heart‬
‪That can’t be erased with a simple apology‬
No, it’s not that easy
These scars fill pages
And pages of this notebook

These scars robbed me of my time and I can’t call the cops for these crooks
I wish you weren’t a replica of me
I wish you would stand up for me
I meant you

Why oh why are you like me?
I feel like I’m looking in the mirror when I hear you speak
It starts with you holding those words you so wish you can say behind your teeth

Then you can’t sleep
Because your eyes are so drippy
Then you start looking in the mirror wishing and hoping that you weren’t you
That you were raised somewhere else
That these emotions weren’t something you felt
Then you start grabbing weapons
And trying to leave your body bloody in the same bed you slept in

This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here. 

The Fabric of Love by Kai Lazarus

No I will not

reap what I sew.

I will burn the quilt

stained with a lifetime

of mental beat-downs,

which brought for

the muddied perception of warmth and comfort.

Then take on the task of creating a new thread,

to handcraft the virgin wool embroidered into an unique

pattern of solace and vehemence,

laced with a soothing touch of

unbridled loyalty. Which can

only be described as the

white mulberry’s cocoon,

as the finest of silks form

from the metamorphosis of a being.

Growth by Kai Lazarus

Growth is not

old flames

with new names.

Or reminiscing with the background of rain,

watching it all go down the drain.

It’s getting crippled by the pain

while still loving to play the game.

Religious Texts by Kai Lazarus

I pray to the goddesses that sacrificed their sanity for mine

Even if that useless dream was futile,

much obliged. Through our trials my obedience was abolished.

Survivors remorse does breed a new sense of Stockholm’s syndrome, but subservience isn’t desired around these parts anymore.

My vulnerability is something I gift willingly and openly.

No more a hidden fetish I give up in the dark,

it is my grand showcase.

This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here. 

French by Shreyas Karanth

What does this special place hold for us?

The city of love as it’s called,

The charm of Paris is always surprising

From Autumn branches and sun kissed faces,

To blurry skies and cold winter nights,

Everything sets the mood right

We might be seen in a café,

Sipping dark bitter coffee and having freshly baked du pain

Or seen sitting at a mini bar,

Tasting the classic French wine young and drunk, but ever so lively

Holding hands, exploring the scenic beauty and the depths of Paris,

And admiring the artistic expressions of love,

Enjoying the good times, we vibe

There is an intoxicating feel in the air of this city,

French after all

Aesthetically beautiful yet dark,

The city of love remains in our hearts forever

This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here. 

Whenever I am with You by Kashish Lahrani

I am a star shining in the milky way,
Blinding eyes as I radiate through,
And dazzle in the endless navy sky,
Whenever I am with you.

I am a daffodil dancing in the breeze,
Embracing that light effortless view.
As the sunshine falls upon me,
So does my grace fall upon you.

I am a serene wave in the ocean abyss,
Subtle and cerulean blue.
Rising and returning back into its depths,
The way I dive back into you.

The First Kiss by Kashish Lahrani

We were in the basement,
It was completely dark down there.
He looked me into the eyes and wore a tender smile,
As I gave an ingenuous stare.

He pulled me closer and held me tight,
He got me glued against his soul.
He gently pressed his lips against mine,
Paradise were these moments that we stole.

Intimacy was flowing through our veins,
Heavenly it felt on the inside.
As he caressed his tongue with mine,
Onerous it became for the affection to hide.

My cheeks were red, I was in a state of ecstasy,
My heart was filled with bliss.
I had always heard of it, but today,
I experienced how special the first kiss is.

This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here. 

Believe by Hamza Waleed

Ground your fears and rise above them high,

Believe in yourself and you can fly.

Leaving the darkness behind

Believe in the dawn,

Inspirit your heart,

And strive to carry on.

Life is strange,

It has twists and turns,

The lessons lie within, pay heed to them and learn.

To mount the summit of your dreams,

You must move on and leave behind the leisureness of shade,

For the process must be followed,

And the prices must be paid.

Chasing your dreams, sometimes, you may fall,

But Never Give Up, Even if you have to crawl.

Those wreckful storms,

so many times, will knock you down,

But stare back into their eyes,

Commit to yourself, and stand back up again.

Those hardships will at last, come to an end,

Endure them with courage, and so on you will ascend.

The mind despondently strife,

For out of it flows,

all the issues of life.

All of the respect, integrity and excellence, you’ll retrieve,

And all of it would be possessed by you,

From the moment you start to Believe.

This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here. 

The Mail Plane by Camden Michael Jones

I.

We erect our tents on the hardpack

of the town’s airport,

rows
of stakes and guidelines

like
a fishing wharf in the tundra;

the
mail plane comes at one,

an
overfull vulture circling above

before
looping North towards the
Gates of the Arctic for the approach run.

The
landing is a front row rock concert where the bassist only knows one
chord and the drummer is still setting up: the tone resonates in the ooze of
our marrow;

that
is to say, the landing is simple, drifting
over alpine fir and spruce tops

with
ballet grace before cutting power

and
slamming wheels to gravel.

II.

Yesterday’s
rain feeds the Yukon today.

Its
hands reach for a hard cloud ceiling and
its lows, its troughs call my name,

call
my name, call my name,

endless
waves in the river’s center,

arcing
with storm energy

and
grip strength.

III.

Other
planes come, and leave,

and
helicopters set down near us.

We
play cards in their wind,

drink
camp coffee that strains

through
the teeth and plugs the gaps;

we
watch and we wait for
seats that never come,

waiting
to leave this airport runway,

waiting
to fight the big fires.

IV.

We
hear the boats before we see them,

curving
around the clay banks

and
we line our packs along

their
aluminum walls. We
sit in plastic bags to
keep dry of river spray,

I
hear my name again,

and
watch another mail plane

take
off. The hardpack vibrates

under
the wheels, the engines scream

their
one note show, and
the DC-3 sinks off the runway towards

the
Yukon – and us – before catching itself,

then
slowly, so slowly we can almost touch

the
silver belly, it growls to the North

and loops
South towards Fairbanks.

Origami Hands by Camden Michael Jones

We
sit on white plastic chairs and watch
the rain

wash
these streets.

This
is not a last meal;

let us
origami our hands

and
sing our departure songs

to
the mirror glass of the sky.

This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here. 

Bruised Heart by Veronika Sivka

You pushed me away
And put your past to blame?
That is not an excuse.
For you, I’d open all of my wounds again,
Hell, I’d even take a new bruise.

This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here. 

Paper Wings by David Smith

At my lowest, I’m flying so high
with these paper wings of mine
I’m gliding through the midnight sky
on this journey of lies

Paper wings didn’t protect me
A painted picture of deceit
Tear soaked wings of paper
I crashed down 6 feet deep

This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here. 

Bard’s Doleful Song by Gitanjali Kapoor

Bewildered, I sit here
staring at your richness
Silk robes, marble floors
and expensive incense.

Whilst down there on the roads
crieth a child in hunger
clad in tattered rags
waiting for his toiling Mother.

Will she get him some milk
or only dust in that bowl
How do you sit there benumbed
whilst she beareth a hundred cracks on her Soul.

I now sing your hymns
louder than the Gong
Oh, these voices
I try to drown with doleful songs.

Aren’t you bewildered too
with your temple’s mocking serenity
Whilst last night
a five-year-old lost her virginity.

Oh, How I wish to shake you hard
Wake you up with Poems after dark.
If my words have failed to rip your heart
then I don’t deserve to be called a Bard
then I don’t deserve to be called a Bard..

This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here.