Poems and Poetry

Original Contemporary Poetry Human Condition

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Hoodie | A Poem by Gareth Culshaw

He hid under a hood
his face
caged in plastic.

Feet unwary, as if they
belonged to someone


His eyes were metal detectors
looking for pennies

his hands ached to pick up
fag ends.
People gingerly watched

like he was walking a tight

Fingernails held last week.
Tongue soaked in yeast.
Pockets empty of tomorrow.

He just walked with his face
in a plastic cage, keeping
the world away, in case

they saw who he was

Connection Redux | A Poem by G.S. Katz

People ask me where the poems come from
I tell everyone the same thing
They just appear, a word, a fragment, a feeling
Then I always say, “I’ve got to write that,”
Hence a poem is born

We fall out of touch for a long time
It was many years ago when we knew the glory
Lovers can go away though for years
Only to reconnect again with the passion of self
That allows real friendship to evolve

I love drinking alcohol
Not wine, though I enjoy an occasional glass
Not beer, though with spicy food what could be better
I love spirits, this past year has been bourbon
I never get drunk, it’s about the burn and the glow

There are other things going on
I won’t go into details at the moment
Spring is around the corner
Morning light wakes me up early
Rebirth my old friend, extending my hand and heart

Friends in America 2/22/17 | A Poem by Lee Rusch

We talked and laughed for a while
then grew serious
Things had changed
We could not leave the surface
Feared what lay below
Though portraying some kind of strength
A nonchalance almost
We kept on
Knowing no exit
No end
But, you know, the end

And the past lay back there
Not a prologue of anything really
Non-linear, random
It seemed
Considering where we all were now.

The Cruelty of Strangers | A Poem by James Diaz

Some cannot hold their anger
when it roars
it’s mostly blinded inside
unable to say one true thing about itself.

“I find it sad,”
you once said to me
“How people can learn to be so petty,
hold grudges, burn others
with unkindness.”

“They didn’t learn it,
they chose it,”
some other part of me
on a bad night
might say.

Benefits of doubt
can easily be wasted.

I too have stood at the edge of things
water towers bathed in light
across the field.

I am no one’s villain
the loneliest road
the one that you feel so sure of
packed away beneath
what cannot be named
cruelly or gently.

We will survive this
one world
wounded and bitter to spite selves
sharing only shatters,
unattended –
unloved in their core.