Poems and Poetry

poems about life

Big Day | A Poem by G.S. Katz

Like it or not I’m closing in on a BIG number this weekend
I still feel super young in the brain drain
Yet father time is doing the waltz with my mojo
Even # birthdays work better for me
This one however is odd

No, I’m not giving you the number
This punk is from New York City
My leather jacket might be retired
My cynical side though still intact
Translation : Do the math and pass the snakes

Ain’t drinking from a pint bottle in a paper bag yet
Gotta have something to look forward to
No speeches or homilies please
I can still bust you upside the head
Would rather buy you lunch though, maybe the early bird special

My Son’s Thirtieth | A Poem by J.K. Durick

We brought out baby pictures, a whole album’s worth
and passed them around, both sons and their girlfriends
laughed and commented, but so much of the humor was
lost for my wife and me, so many of the people in those
pictures are dead now; a life begins and still goes on, but
many of the others have disappeared into that dark night;
he’s the child of our middle years, old enough to be his
grandparents, so we bring out the pictures, pictures of his
real grandparents, relatives and friends hoping to capture,
recapture moments like this, like in the pictures we were
in then, commenting and laughing – birthdays are like this,
a moment we look back, look forward, and try to catch
the moment as if we could, in pictures that will continue
after we are gone.

I Am the Sun | A Poem by Zachary Koplan

“I will hang up on you if you keep breathing like that,”
I interrupted you, as you complained that
you can’t stop eating candy for breakfast and salad for dinner.
Other times, I wished that I believed in energy,
or felt sad because I know,
one day, people will look at my brother and say,
“His money makes decisions for him.”
But each dark day, one of my favorite puddles is refilled,
respectable as a new Bible,
waiting for the Sun to start bloodletting.

Visit Zachary at https://hellopoetry.com/zacharykoplan/.

St Malo By Morning | A Poem by Paul Tristram

British Rail strike be damned! ‘Tis the Devil’s work.
Cadged a lift from The Lizard to Plymouth,
then ‘Thumbed-It’ over to Portsmouth.
I’ll ride the ferry all night,
11 long hours until I stand before her at last.
She paces the streets of St Malo,
as I thunder across The Channel’s black, swirling sea.
Riding the invisible bond which keeps pulling me on…
towards euphoria, serenity and rhythm-touching insanity.
2 bars on board, and I keep swaggering between them.
My impatience electric, intoxicating and infectious,
I turn heads quickly wherever I appear.
The excitement keeps me sure of will and focused…
fighting a magnificent battle of screaming emotions,
I plough the waves ever forward, towards
this all conquering, consuming, now inevitable destiny.

Visit Paul at http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.