Poetry by Karen Blunt

Remains of the Day

By Karen Blunt

In the rubble of my memories...
As I searched thru the dust filled corners of my mind
I found a remnant of you...
What was left of our torrid love affair.
How our passion burned so hot...
Now the remains are only ashes
And each day that passes...
I leave the remains of us farther behind.

Blissful Love

By Karen Blunt

I wish to dwell forever in the pantheon of your love.
To bask in the glorious feel of your touch.
To drink in the sweetness of your kiss...
Forever lost in this blissful affair.

About the Poet

Poetry by Karen Blunt

Karen Blunt lives in Arizona. She is 62 years young and single. She currently lives with her daughter and her family. She is a retired chef and still love to cook, but only cooks for her family. She is an amateur photographer and often uses her own photos as background for her poems. Karen is an avid reader and hopes to publish her own book in the future. She has not yet published anything, but has written a few short stories when she was younger. You can find Karen on Instagram: @blunt.karen.

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Poetry by Patricia Ndombe

Patricia Ndombe

She Could Just Sit in a Wheelchair by Patricia Ndombe

I put my depression aside
whenever I take care of my grandmother.
But there is always enough time 
to wonder what she thinks of me
as I help lift her out of bed.
She can hear the discs of my back
scrape spine. Screw ergonomics. 
What will I tell her
if she asks of my back?

There is an hourglass that
sits on her forehead. 
She sits up and swallows pills
like I swallow sleep. Grandma,
please, let us get you a wheelchair.

I can hear her tick to the 
beat of a dying analog clock.
Please stop worrying about us.

To Cut Yoko Too Far by Patricia Ndombe

I watched your piece, Yoko
I am terrified

I hear your sighs turn shallow
as people circle close around you
Were you afraid too?

I cursed the men who touched you
The men who snipped at your thighs and your chest,
refusing to drop their masculinity in your divine presence

I cursed the man who circled you,
pulling power from the scissors lying there,
praying you would stay prey as other women in his eyes

I cursed the man who sliced your sleeve
Go home, Pervert,
to the pillow that holds your semen-pee

Did I pierce your piece Yoko?

The women were precious, love
Not predators for at least the
first few minutes of poetry class

I am sorry, Yoko
I have screamed the stereotype
You must forgive me, though many will not

I will now return to the fuming feminist
that my mother knows and loves

Dedicated to Yoko Ono’s “Cut Piece”

About the Poet

Patricia Ndombe is currently an undergraduate poet at North Carolina State University in Raleigh, NC pursuing a major in English and Creative Writing. She is shaped by a family precisely half African and half African-American. Along with her other passions such as self-care and holistic health, she enjoys writing poetry as a creative outlet that enables her to reflect the world around her, escape the troubles of life, or look at it through another lens. Many of her poems were inspired while struggling with periods of identity uncertainty during her first two years of college, and this turbulent time period has given way to many others.  Patricia has been blessed with the opportunity to publish over ten poems so far this year, including celebrated poems such as:  “Ekeko”, finalist in the 2019 Gabo Prize for Literature in Translation & Multilingual Texts. “I want to be pricked the tongue by a fish hook”, a finalist in the 2019 NC State University Poetry Contest, and “Broughton Dr & Hillsborough St”.

She thanks you for the opportunity to share her work.  Instagram: @poetic.patricia  Website: https://sites.google.com/view/poeticpatricia

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Poetry by Alicia Thompson

Eleanor by Alicia Thompson

Hair woven tightly knit,
Stretching the corners of the lenses,
Brown polka dots,
On the bridge above the white picket fence smile.

Body taunt, upright,
Arms reaching out and extending tight,
Tummy tucked, breath in,
Skirt flittering at the bottom of the rim.

Pointed toes, angular and rigid,
Foot flexed, legs strong,
At attention the parts are ready,
For the sweetness of the song.

Notes flutter through the air,
Striking out and inspiring the motion,
Head high, body bound,
Fair hair bounces up at the notion.

Floating through the sky,
The skirt abounds unlimited in flight,
The strength is freed into the light,
As the smile is suspended in height.

Her inner steel weighs nothing down,
It makes her apt to launch above the crowd,
Unfettered and suspended above,
Defying physics, my metal dove.

Untethered by Alicia Thompson

The vessel floats next to the dock,
A rope haphazardly connecting the two,
Waters touching the bow and pile,
All seemingly separate, yet the same too.

The sailboat begins to rock and hit up against the dock,
Bumping and now bruised the bow and the pile,
Tides lapping on the side,
Causing the clash of elements that will not subside.

The haphazard rope that now seems like an afterthought,
Has no chance at resolving the dispute,
As the sideboard crashes into the dock,
Binding, frayed and worn, gives irresolute.

The boat tithers to and fro,
Hanging low, the mast leans towards the waves,
Nothing and no one guiding the way,
Cast into the disheveled and roaring waters.

The rope drags behind flailing about,
It reaches and screams for the piles in the distance,
Unanchored and adrift, serving no particular purpose,
A failure from the outset, no chance to begin with.

But then the rope’s knot is lodged in the rocks, 
Catching a break that could not have been foreseen,
Now wrought, the vessel standing at attention,
Swinging and swaying, tethered again.

The jagged black rock,
Connected to the distant fray,
Mast, pile, rope, and dock,
All seemingly separate, yet proven the same.
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About the Author

Alicia E. Thompson



Born and raised in Pennsylvania, I spent most of my childhood playing in the woods and the fields surrounding my home with my neighbors, siblings, and my cousins.  When I was a sophomore in high school, I moved to Columbia, South Carolina and was introduced to a new life in the South. Although I traveled back to my home state of Pennsylvania to pursue a degree in History at Penn State University and later to New Orleans, Louisiana to attend Tulane University Law School, I landed in the low country of South Carolina to be closer to my extended family.  Myrtle Beach is now home; I am a partner at a southeastern based law firm where I focus on real estate matters, I am married to my husband Greg, and we have 3 children.  

Poetry in a new outlet for me.  While juggling motherhood and practicing law for the past 12 years, I prioritized work and family above self.  Struggling with the daily grind and trying to find quiet time, writing poems helps me tune into the outer world and to be present and grateful for the everyday life.  My poems focus on my children, nature, coping with work stress, and my travels. Eleanor is about my 5-year-old daughter who is enamored with ballet.  Her strong will juxtaposes her ability to glide through life, like the juxtaposition of the strength and grace of a ballerina. In my spare time, I enjoy the beautiful South Carolina coast, yoga and meditation, organizing a book club with other professional women, and spending time with my family.

 You can follow me on Instagram at @aethompso and on AllPoetry.com @EleanorT.

Alicia Thompson, Poet. With her family.
Alicia and her family.

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The Autopsy of the Scarecrow

By Karissa Seibel

When they autopsy 
the scarecrow,
they spill sunflower seeds and salt,
split apart a cotton heart 
trodden with cobwebs,
steady - handed enough to keep the smile at least halfway in preservation.
When they autopsy 
the scarecrow, 
they aren’t bewildered with the withered pumpkin - rind ribs,
for what good nature survives 
the seasons of isolation?
They do not catch their breaths 
in the autumn winds,
try to ease their minds in the rich scenery. 
They do not grieve the scarecrow,  
nor do they spur a thought for its spirit, 
but it is there at their side,
warding off the crows that wish to rob them of their harvest.
It whispers,
“Heroism is usually a solo dance, not without injury, but never failed to make me smile, for
how would you startle evil with anything less than happiness?
Breathe. 
Open your eyes and look. 
See my happiness morph through the changing earth and in your changing heart.”
And when they turn to leave, 
a blur catches their eyes... 
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About the Poet

Karissa Seibel

I am 17 and from Ohio, USA. For as long as I can remember, I have loved writing. I started out with short stories and began writing poetry a few years ago, but began focusing heavily on it just this year. As this is my senior year of high school, it is time for me to decide what I wish to purse for a career. I am still a little indecisive, but one of my top choices is to have a career in editing. I just don’t see myself not being involved in the art of writing! Some of my other hobbies include makeup and fashion. While I only practice those hobbies for fun, I take my writing seriously. Although I do not have a job in the field, I do have an Instagram account : @karissa_thinks_in_ink . I’m always looking at ways in which I can improve as a poet and I am looking forward to continuing to pursue this craft in my future, whether it’s part of my day job or on the side. I hope you enjoy my work and am ever grateful for the opportunities! 

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ABCs by Elizabeth James

ABCs by Elizabeth James

Always aware albeit agonizing angst.
Believing bitter banter behest blanks.
Cultivating consciousness cures communication.
Diligence discovers delightful demonstrations.
*
Everyone expecting evolves engagements,
Frequent forgiveness fuels fulfillment.
Give gentle gifts graciously,
Hang huge halos heavenly.
*
Intentionally invest in inquiring,
Judgement juxtapose justice joyfully.
Keep kissing know kindness,
Look lively love luxurious.
*
Memorize many more maturations,
Notwithstanding new novelizations.
Optimize only optimal orations,
Praising priceless poetry proliferations.
*
Quickly question quiet quintessentials,
Resisting raunchy romantic reportorials.
Savor sacred sensuous souls,
Treasure triumphs that take toll.
*
Understand unique undercurrents
Vehemently validate virements.
Willingly wonderfully witfully write,
X-ray xenogenous xanthippes.
Yield youthful yesteryear
Zealously zoom.
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About the Author

Elizabeth James

Elizabeth James is a poet and novelist, residing in the United States of America.
After years of dealing with inexplicable challenges and social issues, she was diagnosed as an adult, with Autism Spectrum Disorder. Elizabeth’s goal is to be an advocate, to bring awareness to the creativity and unique abilities of those with ASD. Her book, “Words of a Wild Butterfly- Poetry of an Autistic Mind,” will be out in the Fall of 2019.


Social Media: Facebook https://www.facebook.com/authorej
                       Twitter   https://twitter.com/Lizzyjames123

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Medals Lie In Shame

Poetry by Perry Kay

Fire-red hostility whizzing through a burning hot blaze
soldiers dodging in muddy trenches 
Blood-soaked earth holding the weight of fallen heroes 
The stench of death mingling with acrid smoke that fill his failing lungs

The sun is a murderer
beating a blazing dragon’s poison on rugged uniforms
The moon is a robber 
hunting tired prey that pause to blink
Death is an escaped prisoner 
googly eyeballs rolling for prey on a sinking earth

He holds
his weapon
in
one plastic arm
patched 
with thread
dipped in blood
of fellow comrades
Fallen 
Splintered
Scattered
across a
flooded ground
as the stars
shoot 
and time runs by
a whizzing bullet

Now a crippled bundle of bones fastened to a wheelchair
The only remnant of a forgotten bravery is a missing limb
PTSD is a spider lurking in the corners with the cobwebs
in a dingy attic he calls home

Living off the ‘Thank you for your service’s scarcely thrown his way
as lonely eyes peek through a shuttered window in a dusty room
where faded copper medals lay in abandoned shame

His heart is a leaden hammer
breaking a fragile memory
into shredded leaves
But his strength is made of eternal concrete 
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About the Poet

Perry Kay

Perry Kay lives in New York but her heart is in LA. She love to write poems and short stories and wishes to one day publish a novel. You can follow her on Instagram @perrykay39

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Poetry by Taylor Lutka

Colorblind

Poetry by Taylor Lutka

I could not show you 
What was drawn 
As it was scribed 
Along my bones 
And it was 
Restrained under 
Coatings of guilt 
Hardened by the words
You burrowed in my skin 
So when you asked me
To show you my soul 
I couldn’t show you 
Because 
I couldn’t see it either
(it used to be yellow, what colour is it now?)

I Will Grow Tomorrow Instead

Poetry by Taylor Lutka

Today I felt like silence
Easily broken with your words
A shattered mosaic of lethargy 
Tapered at the seams 
Of your blade-like edges
Today I felt like darkness 
Draped in bitter frost 
Veiled behind window panes 
Sending rain clouds across 
Droughted landscapes
Today I felt like breaking 
And this dim silent world 
That littered the portrayal 
Of the essence of my mind 
Remained barren 
Sleeping with the misrepresentation
That nothing would grow again

(but I know it is just today) 
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About the Poet

Taylor Lutka

Taylor Lutka has been writing professionally for just over two years. She provides blog/article writing and editing services, but her true passion is poetry. She especially enjoys running her Instagram account, where she posts new poetry daily. Her writing focuses on everything from mental health issues, having your heartbroken, and what it means to be in love. She will be featured in the upcoming Augies Bookshelf “Instapoets” Anthology being released in January, as well as an anthology to be published by Train River Publishing. She is currently working on writing her debut poetry collection, which is hoped to be released sometime next year. 
Instagram – @taylorlutkapoetry

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Water by Aalia Liaquat

Water, a poem written by Aalia Liaquat

Babbling perennial brooks untamed
Streaming through the fissures unstrained
Limpid, pure bliss that flowed in trail
Drops that converges in deep vale
Sunshine buss on the dew drop plain 

Kaleidoscope of light's attained
The clouds that downpour unrestrained
Of slushy snow, rain, mist and hail
Untold moods babbling perennial. 

The tranquil disposition claimed
When the ripple effect is gained
The existence of mortals frail
When the sea swells on a large scale
The basis of life unexplained
Untold moods babbling perennial.
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About the Poet

Aalia Liaquat

Aalia Liaquat is from Bangalore, India. She is a kindergarten teacher. Aalia started writing 20 years ago, although then writing happened infrequently. For the past six months, writing poetry has become Aalia’s passion. She writes mostly romantic poetry but she loves to write on different themes as well. 
Follow Aalia’s popular poetry on Instagram: @harvestingmind

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Love Imprints

By Injla Syed

Let us lay on the shore of this ocean
and feel our love through
the deserted caves
of our hearts near the cold sand,
imprinting our love into this cold-blooded earth
and creating a masterpiece of two demons.

Let this salty water wash our love soaked bodies
again and again.
Let us make love laying down
beneath the blue infinite sky.

Let our love be the pathway for these smiling stars till eternity.
Let us spell the darkness of these gloomy nights.

Let us imprint the partial shadows of our love into the moon.
Let this cold breeze purify our souls,
filled with love again and again.

Let us be the verses of each others poetry
Let us be the love which we wish to create till eternity.

The moment we breathe the air together
is the life that sustains
our love ever since the day,
our hearts meet in the middle
of our sadness,
but let it be love that gave us
hope and bind us until the last breath of our hearts.
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About the Poet

Injla Syed

Injla is a budding writer and a poet from the heart of India. She is an old soul spreading the brightness and believes writing is more about
feelings from within. Injla knows exactly how it feels to break again and again, then to rise up.
She holds a great faith in her heart and soul and believes that God has the best plans for her. Follow Injla’s writing on Instagram: @yourinnerself14

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Oh My Diary!

Oh my Diary by Natasha Tungare

By Natasha Tungare

The delights of my whole day
The gloom which I can never convey
When good listeners aren't so common
Oh my diary, I wish you were a human

When I feel so deeply blue
When I cannot get over something new
When people are something I can't summon
Oh my diary, I wish you were a human

When an obscure body unable to express
The tortures which lead it to depress
When all wrongs are faced by a woman
Oh my diary, I wish you were a human

When the world seems little unfair
Biased behaviors causing too much despair
When 'Fraudulence' is the current human
Oh my diary, I wish you were a human

When world turns it's back towards you
When people overtly replicate whatever you do
When you realize beautification of a demon
Oh my diary, I wish you were a human
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About the Poet

Natasha Tungare

Natasha is a physiotherapist by profession and a passionate writer. She loves illustrating her life experiences in the form of poetry and write ups. “After all everyone has a story.” – Nastasha

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