Photo credit: Noah Silliman
Towards the end of time
In the moment that you find yourself alone,
Will you walk forward
Into the room of mirrors where you’ll face your soul?
Will you be brave enough to face yourself,
The real you, hidden within deception?
All the laps you ran
All that you eluded
The acts committed seasons apart
Have finally found their way
To your hiding place,
Catching up to you
Like a bullet fired by justice
On its way to your conscience,
Countless times that you thought
None would see,
But the fire has set its course.
You’re here now
All by yourself,
For the wizardry
Your wayward soul chose,
You are not trapped, my love,
You’ve been brought
To the Courts of Judgement.
Photo credit: Annie Spratt
Ode to the Girl with the Sunflower Tattoo
I saw you once, a long time ago
and felt as if we met elsewhere in our lives.
I tried to sing but I stuttered,
and could in no way pronounce
the word Liberta
as you like people to pronounce it.
I killed all the airs then and sank
in the sounds of your voice.
I was frightened to explore you
as well as the thousand little nerves
inside my heart.
You were walking on my stanzas
soundless just as your plastic bags of–
And I, was pretending triteness
telling you about how Picasso met
We were pure as a soft morning breeze
You and I, where did we come from?
Are we from the murmuring of–
the mid-sea swell?
or the wall where scarlet windows burn?
or hope or calm–
or wisdom of the East?!
Photo credit: Sarah (fotografierende)
By Salma HQ
“if you want…”
an invitation twisted clean upside-down into a faux-apologetic formality
a socially acceptable excuse to retract kindness for brazen emotional frugality
a formidable mentality, it is
a denial on a technicality, it says
‘I don’t want you and you’re welcome to take that in neutrality’
but if hatred is neutral
will my reaction ever be fruitful?
or will we continue to lie in brutal
Photo credit: Maria Teneva
Today is like a decayed tooth
Because it is hollow from the inside
Waiting to be filled by the present
Left hollow by Yesterday
Or crumbling under the pressure placed on it
Because tomorrow can be fragile
Even though teeth are said to be
The strongest bone in the body
We use it to digest the difficulties of the present
A tooth is killed by plaque
Something that it produces
Like tomorrow can be killed by fear
Something it produces
So every time fear comes around, brush it off
Because it’s just plaque
It’s not worth decaying over
And when you feel a cavity in your life, get it filled in with hope.
Photo credit: Isaac Quesada
Like a primordial war cry,
She emerged kicking and screaming,
Angry at being disturbed,
Indignant… wanting just for the cocoon she was used to…
The precious gift!
Exploded into a zillion emotions,
All synonyms of love, courage, a shield.
Flowing from each and every pore of her body…
Both connected by the ethereal umbilical cord
Which could never be severed,
A dull pain of wisdom became her constant companion,
Waiting for that spark of understanding.
She fought on all fronts.
A lone warrior.
Which was like a fetter,
Stopping her from reaching for the sun.
Making her sizzle and fume,
Like raindrops on the parched earth.
The innocence, arrogance and courage of youth.
So they tangoed,
One patiently answering, teaching and guiding,
one observing indignantly, questioning and accusing.
The struggle between,
Youth and maturity,
patience and impulsiveness,
Honesty and diplomacy,
misunderstandings, natural and sowed,
Raised it’s ugly head.
Unconditional love, faith and trust in her,
Made her introspect,
Till everything became clear as day,
She saw her pathless path,
Rose like a personification of Truth, love and compassion,
to write her own destiny!
Both had risen like a phoenix from the ashes!
Photo credit: Devin Avery
I look back at a time where simplicity brought joy..
running freely barefoot on a hot summer day after your friends
throwing buckets of water
rolling on the floor as you laugh so hard your muscles hurt
A time where happiness was a way to be
now we search mountains and lovers to find that feeling again
yet an emptiness is still there
we try to fill our cries with consumer goods
yet our insides still want more
we try to drown our sorrows
with bottled liquids
yet our souls still want more
where has the happiness of my inner child gone?
Photo credit: Tim Mossholder
Is This Utopia?
and in that place
Men will be there
to mend, not break hearts
Women will stand on each other’s shoulders
not to push each other down
but to raise each other up to the highest of heights
they will play in the sand
in that space
Mothers will bond
over protecting the universe’s children
and there, Fathers
will share ideas
on what makes their children smile
would cook family delicacies
in a big kitchen
they will take the world’s children
to explore the magic of the woods
‘Meet me after school’ they would yell
would be connected by soul
and only remember the good things about each other
would be guided through the hard times
so they could just enjoy the good ones
there, all Aunts
would inspire their nieces
as symbols of strength and assertiveness
would provide spaces of sanctity
where Nephews can play at ease
they would be a beacon of hope
the brother or sister someone never had
oh and Friends,
they would catch you
JUST before you fall
would un-school children
and show them how to be citizens of the world
would build schools
where the world meditates
those enthusiastic Politicians
will create policies
about love and happiness
and the Army
will be an army of peacekeepers
to mediate conflicts
would bring countries home
for those who cannot travel
would run on air not fuel
to encourage the wanderlusts to travel
will look to cure the soul and heart
from the ills in the world
will boycott the courts
Musicians, Poets and Artists
will be paid and fed by the community
so they can keep producing art
and the Homeless
won’t be homeless
because the world will be their home
Money will cease to exist
and we will live in a place
where the currency is love
Dance will take place freely
in the streets
the old dancing with the young
and most importantly
Everyone would be their own Superhero,
saving themselves in order to save each other
Let’s live in a world
where there is
Photo credit: Shahin Khalaji
Whipped, burned and laughed at
These incessant whispers of scorn and loathing,
Like salt to my wounds, sting and obliterate my fire.
Like the plush color of your lips that once revered me
Now twists into an unforgiving scowl full of hate
I close my eyes, damp lashes leaving the briefest of kisses against my cheeks;
I rock my body to the phantom feeling of your arms around me,
The feeling of warmth that has dwindled to frost bite.
The biting cold in your eyes as you lay them on me,
You question the very essence of my being like a broken record
Until it echoes within me, pulsing with darkness in my mind, my soul, my very being.
Like a blindfold, it cages me in the darkness
A prisoner of my echoing thoughts
I pray for liberation from you,
I pray for liberation from me.
Photo credit: Pop Zebra
To Those Who Try
By Sanjna Iyer
A new day, the same drill,
The same mechanic hue and cry,
Contributing to the madding crowd,
Failing, but not failing to try.
A compelling force, a magnetic drive,
Nudging and pushing everyone alike,
Workers, students, and artists too,
A strenuous, never-ending uphill hike.
It’s not all to waste, I have to say,
As perseverance pays, to one or two,
The others lay crushed, down below,
Seldom forgotten, at the back of a queue.
But the drill keeps going, the show goes on,
With muted condolence, to those who tried,
Because this world, drilled into our minds,
That success is to show, and failure to hide.
Let’s pay heed, to not just the cream,
Let’s get above this hue and cry,
Let’s appreciate the rest of the mill,
Let’s look up to those who try.
Thank you for reading Poetry!
Check out all The Poetryhood channels & pages: