The California Poppy Times (CPT) is a poetry newspaper with a literary style. You can find volumes 1-6 archived here because publishing credits are forever. We do NOT participate in putting a writer's career or poetry down. There has been a delay in-print version and it contains the same content. The digital cannot replace in-print newspapers.
Announcement: The California Poppy Times issue 9 coming soon!
VOLUME 8 January 1st, 2023
Why Are You So Beautiful?
By Swayam Prashant
Nature is generally beautiful
but flowers are more
human beings are generally beautiful
Rainwater, home
By ANEEK CHATTERJEE
Rainwater, home
If I draw your attention to
the fact that you're crying,
you will discover the window
& rainwater portraying home on the.... READ MORE
Hell
Dr. Anissa Sboui
Gangster's hell
Winter's coming
Dangerous captains
Rush pudding
Frozen hearts
Game of thrones READ MORE
Spirituality
By Dr. Anissa Sboui
On his way to church
Aiming at worshipping in solemnity
He made mind up to bring grandchild to seek the spiritual search
Inside the World of God
Hands up, heads down
Words
By Dr. Anissa Sboui
Lump in the throat is back
Homesickness
Lovesickness on truck
Mood of writing to suck
I will be always there
By Walid Abdallah
I will be always there for you
With much love that will always flow
When life is hard and really tough
I will give you support that is enough
Whenever you want to cry
I will be there your READ MORE
RUNNING TIME
By Abubakar Auwal
"After reading 'wormhole ' by Abubakar Sadiq"
And I am eager to sight how the time run with our days
And I've count breeze in the midst of the wind—
RUNNING TIME
By Abubakar Auwal
"After reading 'wormhole ' by Abubakar Sadiq"
And I am eager to sight how the time run with our days
And I've count breeze in the midst of the wind—
But I am sorry to sight my father's hands as (two)
Dragons; One girting with the past
A Poet’s Prophecy Is Potent
By Ndaba Sibanda
A poet’s vision transcends boundaries
Of time, distress, despair and devastation,
Of pettiness, pretenses and pampered pranks,
It carries counsel and clarion calls,
It breathes the twins of love and life,
perspective – i
By Dr. Khusi Pattanayak, PhD
what’s your favourite subject?
ice-cream.
no, i mean in school.
ice-cream it is! my teacher thinks it is a fantastic idea that i want to be a sorbetiere.
sorbetiere? an ice-cream maker? so why do you want to be a sorbetiere?
ice-cream makes me happy. ice-cream makes everyone happy. READ MORE
perspective – ii
By Dr. Khusi Pattanayak, PhD
i have written a story.
really?
yes. a story about two friends.
two friends?
yes. a lion and a goat.
but lion and goat can’t be friends. the lion will eat the goat.
TRANSFORMATION FOR A ROMANTIC MILESTONE
By DANIEL DIQUINZIO
After her shift finished Myra O’Connor, who was formerly known as Myra
Kim, came home to the apartment in Old City, Philadelphia. She worked at the Taco
Bell in Northeast Philadelphia. The door closed behind her.
Myra walked through the apartment in her work clothes and her high heels.
She hummed very happily. That was because tonight was Myra’s first wedding
anniversary. READ MORE
Room Temperature
By Patricia Walsh
You’ll never cease to be my heaven
Dross enough in attempts and rough drafts
Attempting a saccharine mess extraordinaire
Real Madness is Life
By Patricia Walsh
Turning my back on the wedding, defeated
Like a torso crushed, bleeding in the ground.
Dystopioan utopias
By Douglas Colston
'Bad' or 'unfortunate'
standards, topics, clichés, platitudes and possibilities
are types of regions
that negate
commonly held standards, behaviour and reasoning …
and opportunities.
Ἀκροστιχίς ἐπῐ́διώκει τελειότητᾰ Akrostikhís epídiṓkei teleiótēta An Acrostic seeking perfection; or, The oldest, best, sharpest and foremost verse pursues perfection
By Douglas Colston
Perfection
is a term
that describes –
in part –
the delightful, guiltless and well-informed.
Introduction to the myth
By Pawel Markiewicz
The myth has happened in darkness of forest,
near the old druidic altar with the stone.
It was foggy then, shrouded in last summer.
Here a fawn was born at dawn and morn - no woe!
Peace
By Adriana Rocha
We find ourselves swimming in a sea of fear,
hearing the trumpets of war,
seeing the sky and ground on fire, Then comes the need of surviving,
it starts with a vibration that travels space and time,
Pesticide
By Patricia Walsh
It’s your turn to be disappointed again
A domestic violence once deployed
Preserving cigarettes for the next destroyed
By Billie Ream
F**king hell, what an end of year this has been for me, moving out of home trying out new avenues with myself, trying to figure out what I can do that is better than my past circumstances. READ MORE
POETRY COLUMN:
by Dorthy LaVern McCarthy
As snow descends on city streets he goes
from store to store this hectic Christmas Eve.
He wants a special gift for Anna Rose READ MORE
By Dorthy LaVern McCarthy
He lives alone inside a rusted shack
with nothing but a puppy for a friend.
But on this Christmas Eve the ghosts are back,
his family on whom his dreams depend. READ MORE
By Dorthy LaVern McCarthy
Though sunny days had dwindled to a few,
I felt my roses might remain and grow.
I pampered them with all the love I knew,
restructured their domain with spade and hoe.
But, as I was rejoicing, there appeared READ MORE
By Dorthy LaVern McCarthy
November is a lady,
unsure of what to wear.
Forever changing colors,
she strips her closets bare
until dead leaves are hanging
in states of disrepair. READ MORE
by Anna Emilia
It's that time again, it's divine
Christmas is in style so versatile
Time to go to the attic escastic
See what's in there, no time to spare
Exchanging spring and summer clothes
READ MORE
By Alexander Mazoni
Christmas signs.
Whilst holiday shopping, I spy a long line leading from the center of the mall.
Little children, lists in hand, stand tall.
Some are playing—
they’re all awaiting their turn on ol’ Santa’s knee.
Most are in masks, for the COVID pandemic does not take a “well-earned” holiday season
vacay.
Yet their excitement, it cannot be completely stifled by the hordes of scowling-angry adults. READ MORE
By Dorthy LaVern McCarthy
When I was a girl in the '40s, we always went to church services on Christmas Eve. Our church was located deep in the piney woods of East Texas. It was a small, unpainted log house with a saw-dust floor. READ MORE
By Dorthy LaVern McCarthy
When I was eight years old, I was totally spoiled. My parents catered to my every wish. I
had toys and games by the dozens and never wanted for anything. When Christmas rolled
around, I was indulged even more. Candy, fruit, nuts, more toys and new clothes were READ MORE
By Derek Huntington
We make genetically modified organisms,
And turn them into new plants and foods.
Is that like us playing God?
Should we be doing it?
Is it right?
Is it what he'd want?
Will there be consequences?
By David Dephy
The storms displace the world
without washing us away.
A few centuries pass.
By Nigel Williams
Does he remember the hour, or the year of his leaving,
of his departing, or the reasons there given
does he lay awake, under those dreamy night stars
upon that cold bench, and think of the past READ MORE
by Megha Gupta
Cold dark room,
Why it is the only place I can hide,
I realized that he knew,
I really wished that I had known,
How much pain he was going to give me.
I heard footsteps outside,
Those footsteps was moving viciously with thuds,
That made me yearn for a chance to ran away for muds.
ART COLUMN:
Showcasing Tina Rimbaldo's artwork and photographs
Oil Painting By Ann Privateer:
By Derek Huntington
I was asked if I could choose any time in history to live,
When would I choose?
I personally don't think I belong or fit in this current time,
But honestly I don't think I could choose a specific time.
There are so many things I'd want and could be a part of in history.
There are so many things I could change or stop from happening.
Or prepare us for READ MORE
By Arik Mitra
FOOL:
What art thou, more than mine hat?
Dost blown away by light at that!
When I turn back and laugh at thee,
Thou dost naught, so much as frown at me! READ MORE
By Arik Mitra
The sinews drip,
like sonance from taps,
half-closed,
to put show in jest,
visuals clandestine,
of a play of time, READ MORE
POETRY COLUMN:
By Ann Privateer
Here on this day when every moment
Slips away, nothing lasts but erosion
Particles unfurl, form disappears
But today, we celebrate with
By Ann Privateer
almost, to be never, to sit
in the midst of the forest
and know time passes
and it also lingers READ MORE
in my mind's soft eye
I continuously questioning, "why"
so many levels of inaction
By UJJWAL DUTTA
Behind the surface, white and glossy
The rough black stones of pricking jealousy.
Smiling congratulations on your grand success
They, with uneven lid, gnawing pain suppress.
By Allan Lake
Crying baby at next table, bark-
ing dog after midnight, loud
disco beat just after dawn,
migraine, brain cancer.
Big-scream TV and I turn each
other on. There’s an abundance
of trumpery about, taking up
so much of now-muted screen. READ MORE
By Ashley Moss
Let’s get in the car, and take a drive.
I want to go to a place where the
Mississippi River flows.
I want to stroll along Beale Street.
Mud Island River Park I want to ... READ MORE
By Billie Ream
Have you ever got a phone call that makes you drop your jaw in a bit of
dismay, hearing that you are being let off your job that you’ve only been
working at for the seventh shift. That happened to me last week. Yep, you
know the tour guide job I mentioned last month well I had gave it my all and to
be honest I had no idea what I was doing. READ MORE
By Derek Huntington
Love.
It's our greatest strength,
And our greatest weakness.
Love.
That's a word that gets used a lot,
But do we think about why we say it?
Do we think about who we say it to?
Do we think about why we love them?
Love. READ MORE
By Arik Mitra
boundless cosmos expands
as my outline floats,
slower time none abides,
no body or bone,
with molten soul,
transparent conduit
the nebulae glimpse, READ MORE
By Billie Ream
What a month it has been in Victoria Australia, we have had floods taking over our lands from torrential downpour engulfing our skies. It’s Melbourne’s weather on steroids, bucketing down with force then... READ MORE
By Ann Privateer
Running in the rain
Sensing freshness all about
Seeing luster and shine
Hearing a perter pat
By Ann Privateer
a canopy of maple trees
that grew above the street
empty bottles clanging
in a wagon, wheels humming do re me
By Ann Privateer
At the door of my nightmare--
From cradle to crib to cot
Each well fitting, until a four posted
Double bed, complete with
Night mares of who or what
Lived beneath, fish swimming
By Durga Mishra
Glimpse of memories
A thing to remember
Was his reminder
That was my promise
I gave him forever
By Toni Stewart-Sales
Mother silently peers, from behind a tree,
Watching the destruction of her family.
Raging fires that consume the earth,
A forest of trees from which she gave birth.
By Toni Stewart
“And I promise you,” are the words she cried,
“Never again will I trust in any of your lies.”
As his Trickery of words,
Were all empty and absurd.
As he painted a complete vision READ MORE
By Sharanya B.
Pickled roseapples
Through a glass jar
Magnolia garland
Around
my
toddler-
head
Fresh beet-stained lips
By Stephen Barile
First explored by Spanish Army troops
From Mission San Juan Baptista,
Led by Jose de Guadalupe Cantua,
Son of a prominent Californio Ranchero
In the 19th-century Mexican era
Of early California history,
Photo Source: Anne Privateer
By Peace Nkeiruka
Mr Lonely, you look like me,
Why stare at me when I look in the mirror?
You know the creatures
That creep on the floor boards,
By Ranjit Roy
Beneath the monsoon sky
Stands tall the Guardian Diety Kanchenjunga
Engulf a small paradise with flowing Teesta
As sacred as Mighty Ganga
From north into the south
And east into the west , beauty
Sprinkle at its best - the high hills READ MORE
By Basila Hasnain
Everyone was taught Seasons using an anchor chart in her class. It showed a circle bearing all
four seasons inside it, each quarter of the circle neatly packed a season and on the outside each
fraction had an arrow, indicating from one to another a never-ending spin from Summer to
Autumn, Autumn to Winter, Winter to Spring and Spring in turn pointing back to Summer. She
was fascinated by this merry go round of human life divided in segments of seasons safely tied to
each other but never overlapping, never changing their course always predictable and pleasant,
offering a sort of consolation that every change will be reversed once the cycle is over. READ MORE
Photo Source: Ann Privateer
By Lynn White
Sit quietly now,
no more frog-like croaks
it’s a bit of a muddle
but soon
all the notes will be set free
and re-arranged untidily. READ MORE
Photo Source: By Cynthia
By John Grey
The moon is full.
The wind is dying.
The shoreline celebrates lovers.
In high-rises,
in riverside mansions,
wealth and business are put to sleep.
Emotional owls hoot softly
to one another.
They trust each other’s hands.
READ MORE
By Dorthy LaVern McCarthy
The Whims Of November
November's days are cold and gray,
its main agenda, snow.
The cardinal has disappeared,
replaced by heathen crow.
By Dorthy LaVern McCarthy
Come autumn you’ll see them,
the children of November,
rustling down streets,
hopping skipping
leaves--- READ MORE
By Dorthy LaVern McCarthy
My Siamese and I have run away
in dreams, to Egypt where the sand is white.
She purrs a song this cold, November day. READ MORE
More Dorthy LaVern McCarthy:
By Dorthy LaVern McCarthy
"Who is doing that horrible howling?" Minerva asked, holding her hands over her
ears. Her son, Marvin, replied... READ MORE
By Allan Shawa
I hear silence in perpetuity,
I am perturbed,
Irked by the stillness
That lurks incessantly.
The absence of the serene voice
Pokes a void
That seeks your whispers. READ MORE
By Guna Moran
Like the mercury in a thermometer
Faith too goes up and down
This morning one haggled
over faith at my home
Hunting here and there on the round earth
he came to me upset
and asked one thousand rupees.... READ MORE
By Guna Moran
Fly away oh bird
The iron cage
I’ve opened
Fly away
to the twig
of your chosen tree
Fly away oh bird
At will I’ve let you
come out of the cage
By Mark Wayne Shifflet
A paragon of poetry is like a walk into my heart.
Like ink set to paper a wonderful work of art.
Like walking through a park watching children play.
Seeing animals watch their young as they go on their way.
Like beauty of the soul writing what they feel.
By Rangit Roy
Gentle warmness of the sun
And the brightest of the blue sky
is it a lump of snow or cloud...
i still have a doubt
How well I remember
Like a dreamer sky surfer READ MORE
By Dorthy LaVern McCarthy
Beneath a jack-o-lantern moon
the ghosts and goblins trick-or-treat.
The wind begins an eerie tune
beneath a jack-o-lantern moon. READ MORE
More By Dorthy La Verne McCarthy:
by Tejaswinee Roychowdhury
She has come home to the fields of saffron
for she dreamt she walked between ridges,
scarf against familiar valley winds,
little again, in ribboned pigtails. READ MORE
By Durga Mishra
Reminder
That blue bright sky
That bright sun
And that shiny cloud
Are now being covered
Slowly, smoothly and unknowingly READ MORE
Tina Rimbaldo's Column:
By Stephen Smithyman
I had that dream again, last night. My wife was sitting, looking at herself in her dressing table
mirror. At first, the reflection showed her face. Then it showed a skull – a naked, disgusting skull,
with hollow eye-sockets, a hole where the nose should be, and rows of teeth, locked together in a
never-ending grimace.
By Shelley Sanders-Gregg
I plod through each day.
Painstakingly, I smile.
The facade has become my mask,
What I choose to let you see...
Because that is what is easy.
By Maggie Kaprielian
Our affinity used to fly
above the surface.
With your soul intertwined with mine,
we waltzed through ballrooms and
ran through colossal hallways...
By Fantasy Wings
Oh, God! Not today, please! Not today! hiding himself between the crowds of children, Jai
mummed these words to himself. READ MORE
Photo Source: Anne Privateer
By Billie Ream
Growing up in the western suburbs of Melbourne, celebrating Halloween can be anti-climactic when I think back to my younger years. Not that I didn’t have fun, I loved dressing up as a vampire or some ghoulish creature with a scary mask roaming the streets knocking on peoples doors for Lollie's or whatever they had to offer. It wasn’t strange to knock on the odd person's door and hear the words “fuck off, this isn’t America”. READ MORE
By Ann Privateer
In case you haven’t heard
Wing bats
Are really disguised dingbats
Well, sometimes they ping
Instead of ding in this electronic
Age of chirps and pings... READ MORE
By Ojo Olumide
i
thoughts begin like bubbles like wishes afloat
in awe of a levitation which lips rack to expatiate
By Ojo Olumide
you bump into a stream &
your shadow leaps ashore…
by the edge of this stream
two doves sits on a string of hay
they kiss each other, deep like a mourner-
using his lips to heal a bereaved READ MORE
Photo Source: Ann Privateer
By Dorthy LaVerne McCarthy
It was a usual workday Monday, and Jeff Dobbs was running late. He had slept
through his alarm clock's warning. Omitting his usual shower, he brushed his teeth ....READ MORE
By Dorthy LaVerne McCarthy
It was only mid-morning, but Lucretia had already collected thirty pints of blood. She had
them stored in three coolers, filled with crushed ice, in her car. So far, she had only had trouble
READ MORE
By Dorthy LaVerne McCarthy Spencer
In the early morning hours of Halloween, there was a happening at Rivercrest
Cemetery. The only living person to see this was Mortimer Howz, a man who passed by
the cemetery on his way to work. Mortimer was no coward, but he always felt a shiver up
his spine when he approached it. Usually, he hurried past it, glad to be on his way. READ MORE
Photo Source: Ann Privateer
By Kinga Bisits
accepts lists of invitees to nurture a friend
eats alone all-day
practices patience into the early hours
seeks connection beyond just activity
flowers brilliant at words of love uttered by
By Maid Corbic
I still feel present in everything.
I am someone who loves love.
But I also want to feel the fear again.
When other people create things
The kind I don't hope for READ MORE
By Ranjit Roy
Walk!ng the downtown
A clown with a crown
These spoofed crowd
Heart's cold and souls sold
Can't distinguish a diamond among gold
By Pristine Wrights
The chains you put on me are getting rusty and worn. The darkness you caged me within has become my companion. The days are slowly crawling into months. READ MORE
By Pristine Wrights
I was too innocent to understand. I was naive. I thought you were the sheep you portrayed to be. I played with your soft white wool and basked in the comfort that came with it. I had myself consciousness so loose because you made seem like being careful was a waste of time. I was just an innocent minded child, who needed the love and care of someone.
By Toni S.
How Fake Hollyweird will follow the instructions of the well-oiled P.R. team and the Academy. READ MORE
By Christopher T.
Translated By Julia Mcraczny
- I wish to terminate it.
- Are you sure?
- Yes.
- You know, it's only the second week. You have four more to think...
- I know, but I've already thought about it, and I'm sure. READ MORE
By Vasti Carrion
In Germany, in a village of Miltenberg,
is where Lily The Münster Cheese Slice lives,
a franken-cheese slice, rising on the dawn
of Halloween, Victoria The Scientist--
Lily Münster Cheese Slice's creator
By Christopher T.
Translated By Julia Mraczny
I will somehow manage these decades without sex - in the worst-case scenario, that's how
much she has left. I can't stand what's happening to her: she's shrinking, wrinkling, turning grey
POETRY I:
By Ace Boggess
—roadside billboard
Sorrow leans against a lamppost &
observes from a distance.
Grief shackles neither of my wrists.
Rage-pain? Hate-stroke? Hurt?
Silly limericks, obscenely fleeting.
“Was There a Dream as an Image or a Moment?”
"Which Problems Are Ok to Ignore?"
By Binod Dawadi
I am not dependent on you,
I am alone and happier,
I am enjoying a lot,
I don't want help from anyone,
I understand my life,
I want to live in alone and peace, READ MORE
By Binod Dawadi
They sold me,
They hate me,
They tell me I am,
Worse and bad,
They tell me to,
Become this and that,
They comments, READ MORE
POETRY II
By Kevin Ahern
In spring, a little hummingbird male
Makes flower bouquets with nectar
Cuz when he calls upon a mate
He hopes it will attrectar
Arhythmia
In regards to people having rhythm READ MORE
By John McNerney
Is this a new limbo?
If I place my poetry
in “The Cloud”, perhaps
it could never reach
cyber paradise?
Don’t you think
a few of my poems ....
By Linda Crate
i dream of running
barefoot through the wood,
living in the trees;
being surrounded by creek
and crows and wildflowers—
i dream of endless autumns
never too cold or too warm,
just exactly right;
By Anonymous
The sands of time keep marching on,
while the waves wash over me.
Like a statue standing there,
won't someone set me free?
I want to fly above it all,
and see beyond tomorrow.
"A Native California newspaper rooted with words and blooming with news and poetry."
~ The Editor
Photo Source: Billie Ream
Poetry Column III:
FEATURE: By Dorthy LaVerne McCarthy Spencer
In my back yard there lives a garden gnome.
I bought him from a wizard long ago.
I put him there in his forever home
to guard the grass and watch the pansies grow.
But he does more to earn his keep. His trace
of magic keeps unfriendly winds at bay.
Pink roses sprinkle petals on his face.
Petunias love him in a tender way.
There’s no one in the garden shed.
It’s rather soon, I know.
A battered rake is on the floor
beside a dusty hoe.
A coffee can holds trowels and tools
that help a garden grow.
Poems By Dorthy LaVerne McCarthy:
The Last Rose After The Pandemic After The Storm
By Ann Privateer
As luscious as parchment
The languishing stalactites
Branch out and grow
READ MORE
by Yi Jung Chen
Clomping around in the wooden clogs,
my eyes cast a glance at the Common schefflera on the balcony.
You used to perform a trick with it,
the petiole fallen unharmed within your palm.
Vexed by the bad smell of nicotine,
you brought it back as a gift for me. READ MORE
By Sara Sarna
Bodies tough and fragile.
Hearts strong and weak.
Resilient and easily crushed.
I have been here before,
damaged, uncertain,
until each muscle recalls
Graphic Design: Vasti Carrion
By Lynn White
First Seen
Now you see it!
A tunnel sculptured in ice.
Pass through.
Now it’s behind you
out of sight.
Pass through. READ MORE
Where Galaxies Die and Hearts Collide
By Anonymous
What if I should say I love you?
What kind of love is this?
Just a blink of an eye and then we die.
But oh no, Oh no READ MORE
By Billie Ream
Melbourne a city that brings people together to share their words, whether it be festivals or a quiet
afternoon with a handful of people in a pub at the back of Richmond a light shines on poetry. it may be
hidden on the walls as you walk the streets during the days. it could abuptly cause a gathering of people
coming together for days thrown together for festivals of those willing to share their mind and peculiar
hearts.... READ MORE
GOTHIC POETRY
HIV VAMPIRE BLOOD-SUCKER
By Vasti Carrion
The fog of Satan’s breath lurks the plaid skirts
of October,
The screechings of the abandoned mental health
hospital,
By a vampire with syringe sharp nails
Infected with HIV virus blood.
By Bidisha Chakraborty
Night, so alluring as phantasmagoria
Steeps within the juncture of normalcy
Walking all alone I am,
My companions restricted to amphibrats
An old church tempts my veneration
FREE VERSE POEMS:
By Yi Jung Chen
In the summer haze,
the reddish hue took on its reddish hue.
Putting a finger to your lip,
you carefully inspected the forest ghost flower.
Prim and prissy,
the briny sweats seeping into my skin, READ MORE
By Daniel Moreschi
Within a latent, pathless peak,
A mountain’s womb begins to leak
The flicker of a fervid hue,
When primal mantles stir a brew.
An exhale turns into a cloud
That scatters as a stony shroud,
While foam and fume pervade a thrust
And stoke the trails of a cradled crust. READ MORE
LOVE AND PEACE ARE THE GREATEST HAPPINESS
I always give love and peace.
I'm not someone who just wants to watch wars.
because it makes me very restless.
and I think that a better world stands for us
only if we look at everything from the bright side
I am someone who wants to achieve peace.
various little things and that we all always hang out
Photo Source: Vasti Carrion
By Ranjit Roi
W!ll ! am Shakespeare , 1564 - 1616
W!ll ! am Wordsworth , 1757 - 1827
W!ll ! am Butler Yeats , 1864 - 1939
....READ MORE
POETRY COLUMN:
"A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language. ~ W. H. Auden"
The California Poppy Times VOLUME 3:
By Zachary Guadamour
She sits on the bed naked under
a bath towel draped around her
the quiet voice of her husband
comes from the radio by tie bed
empty phrases live on in silence
the air packed with deceit READ MORE
By James Little
Our Silver Star
I know she’s fine and happy there,
but here I sit in silent prayer and frightened by the load I bear.
Why leave me down in this domain
my Jesus God and take my life entire? READ MORE
Dealing With Crossroads in Life
By Athena Milios
As I flew toward that vital fork in my road
I feared I was about to see my life implode.
How would I ever decide which path to take?
Decisions were pending and a lot was at stake.
By Lorraine's Poems
Granny’s Chair
Granny’s chair it sits here empty
granny’s chair sits feeling blue
granny’s chair sits with its memories
thinks of all it has been through.
Days of rocking the sweet baby
VOLUME 2:
By Funkekeme Akposeye
a sensitive young cow stood in a chief's compound
a tiny dirty rope on it's neck held it to a nearby tree
the wind spoke into it's ear without making sound
it said "mighty creature of flesh you'll never be free"
the sensitive cow ........ READ MORE
A BOY WHO WAS RAISED BY A RIVER
By Funkekeme Akposeye
I am simply a boy who was raised by a river
The smooth and slippery banks of the Niger
It will be responsible for rearing me forever
A long abandoned dreamer, a kind stranger
I grew up farming.....READ MORE
By Melvey koka (The Surgical Poet)
Justice
Where is justice for
The kid who was
Killed down the road
And thrown under the bridge.
Where is justice .....READ MORE
By Tammy Wilson
This is a letter to you Aunt Essie Mae here goes give me some luck.
I want to know what its like in heaven?
Are you with Grandma and grandad?
Is your gold still shining? READ MORE
VOLUME 1
By Elizabeth WIll
Brooks holding silhouettes
of winter beneath
icy hands and breastless
sliding through waves.
READ MORE
By Alyssa Ann
She is the keeper of my secrets
She witnesses me without judgment
She knows l belong to no-one
READ MORE
By Barbara Wikle
Dear Mom and Dad
I'm so sorry that things were messed up,
when I was just an innocent kid.
I ended up in foster care,
By Debbie Kim Kennedy
A multi social site.
1st 55+ blogs have clearance & are now exclusive.
Free, log on whenever you want, as often as you want. No fees, join if you like - also no fees.
By Ato Cox
"As I wake up from my
sleep, having had a long dream,
About so many
things in life, but now I
feel mean,
By Jouska_ToHeal
With every sunrise,
I fly towards becoming someone new
bearing the hefty weight of solitude
of forgetting the ‘she’ I used to be READ MORE
The Abandoned McDonald's
By Tony Anderson
You can hear the ghosts of the past here
Children laughing
Orders being made
Conversations by grown ups
Mold and dust have covered it now
Boarded windows and doors
A depressing place
Where childhood was
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