Poems and Poetry

The Argument | A Poem by Roy Pullam

His lips barely moved
His voice rolled
Through heavy syrup
The thick accent
Bound him
To his southern heritage
Such hate
Fell from his lips
A series of stereotypes
Values I could not endorse
I was uncomfortable
Rejecting his opinions
From deep
In the well
Of my consciousness
I tried to keep quiet
To mark his ignorance
With the resolve
To remain mute
To let others speak
To the infamy
Of his words
But no response
The quiet
Scalding me
Questioning my own betrayal
Of my deep-seated beliefs
A sickening ball
Of frustration
Formed in my stomach
I felt my muteness
Untangling
As the belly knot
Grew tighter
I was speaking now
Challenging him
My body
Shaking with rage
I could not control
The eruption
The lava of rebuke
pouring out of my mouth
Scalding his stupidity
Words I tried
To hold back
Words that
Leave a distance
I cannot walk back
We dangle
In the air
Of disagreement
The ground beneath
Us gone
Any commonality
Crashed and burned
In the car wreck
That was our friendship


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Thou Art Opiates | A Poem by Nyashadzashe Chikumbu

Drowning, an oblivious stupor.
Mary Jane hanging on black-toasted lips.
Mentally intoxicating like a spoiled dipper.
Anodyne pot, we smoke the sorrows of yesterday, barbeque ashes of tomorrow.
In that drunken cloud, puffing
on broken bridges.
Supplanting flowers of rue with weeded grass.
That mental manacling opiate, a ticking asylum bomb.


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What If | A Poem by Stan Morrison

what if I had had just stayed in new York
what if Abraham dared to eat pork
binary systems only give us either/or
parallel universes offer so much more

what if Columbus just had turned around
what if Newton’s apple didn’t hit the ground
nothing really defies imagination
just consider all the permutations

what if frogs had fur on their back
what if moose never left any tracks
there’re so many possibilities on heaven and earth
from the house of gloom to the house of mirth

What if salmon only swam downstream
what if things weren’t always as they seem
Children should be seen, but not heard
That’s excellent advice for the totally absurd


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Sonnet of a Night Owl | A Poem by Daniel McGee

I know so well the warmth of cold moonlight,
For night is home to all keen thought, blissfully unmaligned.
Helios holds no sway with me, his journey out of sight,
Selene, my muse, guides my sweet nocturnal mind.

Supine, I float, and watch my ethereal phosphenes fly,
Till epiphany alights and I feverishly spring to write.
Mellifluous the ring of ink, as the paper I glorify,
Eloquent with ease, till the sharp break of Aurora’s light.

The ephemerality of my life seems with my heart to brawl,
Under shadow, ponder I, if unturned I leave life’s stone.
Yet Nyx’s reign inveigles me like sonorous siren call,
And so I sit, to on paper bleed, on my solemn wooden throne.

To live and write in lonely dark is my god-given right,
I’d rather live to shine in shadow than disappear in light.


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From Sundial to Stopwatch | A Poem by Roy Pullam

The curtain is closing
On future planning
The uncertainty of age
Is like a vulture
Waiting on a fence pole
I must deal
With life
In chapters
A book is too long
And I might not
Finish it
I look back
When time
Was a burden
When I thought
In years
Plotting goals
The calendar
Was my friend
Now I check
My watch
Realizing that
There are only
So many seconds left
Before my sun sets


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Our Morning Showers | A Poem by J.K. Durick

Sometimes, it’s like a baptism,
the baptism of our new day,
a ritual we repeat, know so well,
stand naked, as at our birth, with
hot water, soap and shampoo
we are born again; cleansed of
the night before, and yesterday
in its entirety, we can dry ourselves
of blame and dress our new part,
in the innocence of clean clothes
we can step out once more into
the waiting world we know so well;
this is as far as all our godliness
ever gets us.


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