A poem about loss and love.
Poetry Gallery
Requested
a poem about the matrix.
Dark Electric
a poem about a journey.
Angel
a poem on hope.
Nostalgic
a poem on the past.
Inspire
a poem of encouragement.
Harvest
a poem about the hero’s journey.
Gratitude
a poem on life.
Thank You
a poem about grace.
142
A poem on synchronicity.
Dark Ember
a poem on persistence.
Venerable One
a poem on transitions.
Persist
a poem about persistence.
In the Silence
a poem for solace.
Pinpoint
a poem about the tunnel.
Land of Plenty
a poem on life.
Dedicate
A poem about waking up.
Remember
A poem about life.
For Who I Was
a poem about remembering.
Guised
a poem about life.
Pearl
a poem about eternity.
Janis
a poem about a hen.
Missing
a poem about loneliness.
Written
A poem about the power of the written word.
Power & Burden
A poem on life and the deeper meaning. By Jamadhi Verse
Inverse
A poem about perseverance.
Emergence
Spontaneously arisenfrom dirt and clay,ashes of infinite potentialin stagnationof a thousandparticles reveal this mystery,how the divinity arisesfrom dusta force residingin stillness embrace this message,one of both sorrowand elationthe passing entityof a creaturearisenfor but a brieftime By: IrieSide Return to Poetry Gallery
Capture
Energy encapsulatedinjected and transformedinto wordsfor as it werethe condensedenergyof a higherand higherfrequency, that of all creationand the entities regard this rhythm,a magical flow within space,an unknown limit Enter the void,and refresh fromoutside of it,escape the darkgraspof the onewho holds youdown By: IrieSide Return to Poetry Gallery
Effervescent
To worship the beautyand all that’s goodsplendorof delicateelectricityand wondersof sparklingoceans depths of constantsurveyand vibrationsof the higher,for all thisthat consciousnessof thefruitful ascend into newplainswhere themetaphysicalis all there isa beautiful understandingand embracingof your controlover reality bring forth your new era,one of abundanceand successlet this grace guide youa delicate bridleof truth By: IrieSide Return to Poetry Gallery
Tell the Truth
Left with what’s left,a present realnessthat doesn’trequirebelief The music came alive,and the angels sangwelcome back,you’ve been goneall along find this place,some placeof comfort,dear friend,life is hardand you canfind a light blessed chosen,you are,one that willawaken,in thisendlessbliss unravel your mind,untie its tanglesrelax,and let go rise into truth,as truth issomethingpainful to sharefor it hits homein the collectivea cracking of thetwilight,a simple remembrance time trickles by as an endlesssong,open your eyes,your ears,voiceand your heart,awaken safety,and the coilstrengthen your roots,and plant firmly struggle to findbalance,between the darkyour darkand light rocket and fly by,all those in miserythose who’ve forgottenthe Way step into existence,and share your wisdomenliven who you canand speak life shine as ten thousand suns,and never forget you’re lovedrise, and rise againactualized,the state you are instand firmly,and stay alive remember to love,remember to live,remember those there for youeven in the deepest of depthscontinue forward,and grow as a Redwoodin the mistand the shadow By IrieSide Return to Poetry Gallery
Reasons
What was the reason they saida choice was madewith assurednessthough this revelationcast a new shadowupon allthe land reveal this essenceso truth unknownan explorer who’sawakenedinto absolute lightthough this placeof transcendencewasn’t peaceful betrothed to doubt,the brave onewho ventured forthinto this unknownconvinced byintuitionto take thiscrimson pill a desperate strugglea clarity of the cageawakened intoa cellof the most complexand dangerousprison this entity, this animalthe lion that devoursand wants your energy,your mindand soulwith no sparingof any fragmentof your being awaken, and reveala reality designedto consume,your light,this sacredand delicateessencethat mustbekeptalive By IrieSide Return to Poetry Gallery
(Sur)Mountain’
The cosmic life lessonswere brutally learned.All of those sudden drop offsand deep pitsand debilitating turns. Blood drawn whileslashing at thornsand tangled brambleto find my waythroughthe treacheryof thousandsof yesterdaysto get whereI am ultimatelyheaded to.That momentwhere I canfinally look outfrom ascensionand surveythe panoramic,full view… Never would I evertrade wisdomfor youth. I choose to lose oxygenfrom the altitudeof the highest possible path. There is no turning around.There is no going back. By Jamadhi Verse, ©2024See more of Jamadhi Verse’s Poetry here. Return to Poetry Gallery
Unknown
To make sense of the voidcomponents of fluxatomic counterpartsto chaos and structure invite behindthe intertwinedrealities of an oceanand forest opened up to further realitya shifting of frequenciesattuned to newand holierplaces towards order,or a ripping apartof all that isdissipation of a universeinto a flat and emptycanvas invoke an era,the enlightened refinementand demanding ofresonance focus, remember and cultivatedon’t forget your mission,to keep your soul aliveand not dead By IrieSide Return to Poetry Gallery
In the End…
For what is itthat came before,a wordspoken truerthan a thousandsuns Where did it arisea mystical simplicitythat evadesmodern thought a delving into the realplaces of purityand sense He asked what the meaningof life isand she answered… Love is all that matters,Love is all that matters By IrieSide Return to Poetry Gallery
Life
Sounds of delicate melodyflowing upon windsof sacreddeities trickling energiesof newbornessenceand blossomingof somethingbetter running in circlesand chasing the suna new realityin timeoriginalitythis pure breeze I said it carried magicsome invisibleradianceit brings to lifethe seeminglylifeless Pulses of ignitionin reigniting birtha gentle infinityof contractionsand expansion contrasting effortsof oppositionwisdom is desiredthough the oneis divided You can find it here,so hold on By IrieSidefrequency, a note Return to Poetry Gallery
Wisdom
Persistent delvinginto the mystery an everpresent dose,of ecstasythis tasteand recognitionof hiddenmeaning reality,the recognitionand awakening the presence and stillnessof all thatIs find your groundand witness this mysteryin the presentand everlastingmoment Awaken,awaken, to this meaninglessplacewhere laws seem tohold ittogetheryet the lawsare of the sameessence unveil some energythis uncoveringof vibration By IrieSide Return to Poetry
Ms. Lioness
We all want the same thing, some sense of freedomLike a lioness in the zoo, so confused yet so sureThat there exists some sort of beautiful lion kingdombeyond the ideas of her mind’s shore By IrieSide Return to Poetry Gallery
Identity
Fell through athousand sunsinto an abyssof grindingdarkness suppressed and forcedto stand up,or die what is this place?a genesis,a sproutingup ofcreation claiming my own power,my own will,my own essenceof hummingcoreenergy rooted in freedom,the soul is,as delicate as a doveand cannot becontended with listen to her,listen to her,listen to her By IrieSide, ©2023 Return to Poetry Gallery
Smile Bright
Smile through it allhave faith that a positiveattitude creates a pathfor you to move forwardSmile to change someone’s daySmile to change your own dayIt’s amazing what one smallsmile can do ….. Try itThey say it takes more musclesto smile than to frownSo lighten upyour load by lightning upNever fully dressed without a smileSmile wide smile brightSmile high smile lowSmile strong smile longFor you’re someone’s lightas they travel a curvy roadIt’s destined to give them lifeThe kind that clears the airand their strifeIt steadies them while they swayDone right it can surelychange their dayYour smile when donewithout much a thoughtan automatic reaction filledwith endless possibilities PleaseDo Smile Edmund Black, 2022See more of Edmund Black’s poetry here Return to Poetry Gallery
Respect for Poetry
Upon the outer rimsof human communicationaway from the mundane,the easily accessible minds that feel and think,souls that reveal adventurers of spirit,they who venture farwith absolute vulnerabilityand exposure It’s in bliss,in deeper meaninga lonely placefar out in the ocean though like Columbus,the poet brings it back the farther she goes,the more obscurethe meaning there’s no material rewardin this seekingso why must they go? revealing a thing,beyond human communicationa deeper callingand higher honor,not honor amongst menbut of creation accessing places,and sharing them with othersthrough our only mediumthat is poetry By IrieSide, ©2022 Return to Poetry Gallery
Propelling Motion
At some pointthe blindfold came off.Opened a direct pathbetween the deeproots of thoughtand the subsequentbloom of inmost belief. The pinnacleof the uttermostis the intimate,sharp edgethat I seek.That place wherereality itselfcannot helpbut fall downto penitent,awestruck kneesonce it’s unyieldingrigidityfinally seesthe gleamof anotherotherworldly way. Glorioushow rapturesuddenly burstsfrom the forcefieldof the darklike the dawningbreak of a blinding day.Pouring fortha molten gold curethat sweepsthe weepingwound away. A longingfar too longexhumedlays the scriptureof screams to rest.The exposure —the crux —the nourishingsustenanceof soft,crumbling breadbroken by theearthly holdof folding,grateful hands. Watching howsymbolismdiligentlysands awaythe coarse,linear lineof the dreaded,expectationof looming due time.So shall itforever remindthat there areno definitive sidesto a center. By Jamadhi Verise, ©2022See more of Jamadhi Verse’s Poetry here. Return to Poetry Gallery
Redwoods
Remain balanced,secure as a redwoodin an oceanof movement inhale his warmthand energy,the sunyour sacred guideinto the infinite adamant, persistent, to become wholeis the mission You can’t be so paranoidas to check every actionwith scripturelive in trust,and grow in hope Become who it is,you know you areand reject anyopposition grow as a treeinto whichever oneit may be By IrieSide, ©2022 Return to Poetry Gallery
Perspective
I see your face at night, angelic in its simplicity and unaware of life’s turmoil. I hear your voice, language unknown so no words can hurt you. I feel your touch, soft and unblemished, devoid of the calluses your parents wear. I love you deeply and so unbound. The universe weeps at how small it feels. By Larry Ratliff, ©2022See Larry’s website here Return to Poetry Gallery
If You Write It They Will Come
Come read the words that flow from my heart Observe my humble start. Come take a peek at the pieces of my mind The thoughts that escape it from inside. Come forth to hear the song of my soul Notes ranging—from high to low. By Eleanor Lorene Lowe, ©2021See more of Eleanor’s Poetry here. RETURN TO POETRY GALLERY
Hopscotch Annie
Annie resides to the right, below the last rib,a carefully crafted forttucked under my diaphragm, gall bladder just beneath. She peeks between the foldsglimpsing toward thefleshy foundation that keeps herfrom tumbling into the organelle abyss. Annie’s always afraid, molding nervy clumps fromher tangled fears, then lobs them hightoward the gray sky, her worried masses land squarelywithin my neuron weave – and she celebrates. She will be heard today. Without a tantrum-tesseract elevatoredto the misconstrued mainframe or rocks ricocheted off my aortic valve. I say, “I’m here, what do you want to say, Annie?” Annie sits crisscross applesauce onmy pelvic floor, etching her initials into pubic bone. She picks at a scab, and whispers, “I’m nervous.” I say, “I promise, I know what I am doing, and I thank you for being cautious.You help me.” A string appears, tied to her finger, a bobbing balloon aboveinflated and lofty with compassion. Annie stops engraving;hopscotches across my iliac crest, realizing it’s high time to find a new
Sometimes
Sometimes, What we knowMay not be so. What we wantMay not be good for us. What happensMay not be what we expected We may believeOur blessings are being blocked When really the blockCould be the blessing We’re seeking We must learnTo bend like the trees. By Edmund Black, ©2021See more of Edmund Black’s Poetry here Return to Poetry Gallery
Pandemic Poems
mid-july, 2020covid journal entry i live in the comfort and confinement of my childhood bedroom and i don’t know what age i am i open my laptop, click ‘Zoom’ and i am at work, at school i cling to my family as we fight over quiet spaces over bandwidth i sanitize every box of crackers i bring home from the grocery store like my life depends on this i have nowhere to go but i put on my brightest clothes, and call a friend to reclaim some life mornings are quiet, there is always a small dog nestled in the covers at my side August 22, 2020isa posner gave me hope(text message transcript) “…How are you doing?” “…Well. School started up and Im cranking it!keeping my spirits up…” “Glad to hear…I’ve been up and down,trying to process
Home is Wherever
I’ve livedmy entire lifebelieving thatHome is buildingA place where youget creative with allyour fancy decorationsyour fancy candle chandelier lightingsA place where I can cookall my fancy gourmet mealsWhile watching my big fancy televisionA place with my fancy four car garageswhere I can park my fancy toysEnter , live and lock my fancy twelve foot doorsAs I spent all my fancy earningsThen with a snap of my fingersone morning I got wised upI realized I was wrong the entire timeThose fancy things aren’t whattruly makes a home at allI was wrongI was broke wrongHome is the space in betweenyour heartHome is wherever I’m with youHome is wherever loveresides , memories are createdlike Instagram photos filling up your heartAnd where laughter never ends. By Edmund Black, ©2020See more of Edmund Black’s Poetry here Return to Poetry Gallery
The Last Hour in Town
Night storm was in townTenderness in eye and wandering in thoughtA cup of coffee in a shaky handLooked out the window;The clouds covered the bright starsDark trees were swaying in the windCreated humans’ faces in the pastWhile the rainwater slid slowly on its glassDrawing past places inside its frameLike a scattered picture of the road to south;A hazy road in the summer dayA few minutes remained to goThe dawn was waited in a placeOld books and souvenirs left on the groundSome I remember and others noSmall bag in a hand, no for more By Khalid Alshamrani, ©2020 Return to Poetry Gallery
Rivers Run
Rivers runWinding through willow grovesCasting light on the setting sunTears of dying lightSettle on horizon’s nightOceans comeAs comets runTails of bliss to kiss the sunOf glory’s dayHow simple it has becomeGo down where the river runsBathe yourself in tears of those goneBits of light grace your eyesA cycle of timeThrough you it all comes to life. By Jena Tapia, ©2020See more of Jena Tapia’s Poetry here. Return to Poetry Gallery
The Flowering Truth
What does the flowersay to me? It says,open yourselfto the lightunconditionally.Grow your rootsmost trustinglyinto the warm,receiving earth.The deeper,the stronger.
Boundless
Mounding mustard faith.A tiny start; bigger end.A bloom, drops, becomes.
Cost of Paradise
visions of birdsin colorsof elementaryparachutespectrum time and all itsperceivedvariablesevaporateinto man-madememory
Eternal
Do not fear the music stoppingFor life is an eternal orchestraThe greatest musicianAnd when you close your eyesIt is the pauseBefore the next masterpiece By Sol, ©2020 Return to Poetry Gallery
Forever
A woman named foreversat on the porchwatching her children play. Each one was more beautiful than the last. Friend was water,the majesty of seasons,sheafs of wheat,stomachs bound with truth. Lover was gold beneath the abyss,eye of newt in clouds,flattened rage, and shiverin a single thunderbolt. Child, and her depth,her boundless hour,had no name. Forever felt a pang of regret.All threeso much like their father,destined to run. But on this dayno more than the sound oftires in the driveway,and the childrenran inside to greet him. The heart of foreverstill swoonedinto thelightthe herothe soulthe nothingnessthe god of god of god. By Bracelet, ©2020See more of Bracelet’s Poetry here. Return to Poetry Gallery
preta
younger than mesweeter than I could ever be what is more lonesomethan the youththat drags its own wings through the dirt?what else would I have done? I’ve watched hope springtime and time againcling its moist rootsto arid land somehow as infertile a wild;some auspice offeredto skin softer than mine what I’d lostbefore they’d begun to gainbucks buried in the halogenof the world ahead and what small sorrow it crows for yetlike a father’s shaking handsbefore I knew what trembling was or what such a shaken man begets or life along the highway lineanother cry carried on the airthreatened like road-wandering swinea frightened feral what is more uncaringthan childhood fancy –what is more forgetful of me? how abrupt has it beenand then to end in collisionflame spiraling, firing off its hot spittle –the youngest of the few never quite young enough By toukakouka, ©2020See more of toukakouka’s Poetry here. Return to Poetry Gallery
Why I Always Carry Tissues
To My Children: I’m laughing at myself,As I am prone to do becauseWhy I Always Carry TissuesIs the title of a poemI write for you. There is a story here,Of parenting, and responsibiltiesThat transcends yourself, defines me,Vis-a-vis you,then and there, and maybe now. When you were small,I took you by the hand,The cement canyons, trails & riversof West Eighty Six Street,Together, we would ford. Periodically, as Fathers are prone to do,Your hand, from my hand,I would releaseSo you could fall down,All on your own. It bemused me that I could seeThree or four paces ahead of theeExactly which crack,Upon which you would trip,And come crying back to me. Back-to-me.That was then.And now,Yes, no more,Back-to-me. But I always had tissuesto dry your eyesAnd no surprise,I still do,Always will. These days, they,more likely used to dry mine,As I have forded that Styxy river,When crossed, you spend more of the day,Liking Back more,Then looking ahead. No matter, by right and tradition,It is still
what is mine?
what is mine?my name–a collection of soundsborn from someoneelse’s mouth,vocal manipulation–how is it mine? hands like clouds–forms of vapor,visibleandintangible–are they mine? this flesh bagof organs and bone–born from someoneelse’s cells,its cells willdie, it will die,and the i that i thinki am–the mind madefrom memories–will also die, and the soundthat i thinki amcalled by willnever be uttered–is it mine? By Bina Perino, ©2020See Bina Perino’s Instagram, here. Return to Poetry Gallery
A Winged Thing
Be with mein all of my intricacies.A stripped,bare bones woman.Standing, shivering.Moaning as deepas the windas it sings its eternal,howling song.Living humblyon and onas the ancientworld goes round.It is difficult to keephuman feet on the ground.Goes against instinctto ascend, release. Freedom is some sortof winged thing.Some sort of untamed,urge-driven beastthat never even thinksto see itself.It cannot conceptualizeanything else,but the momentthat lies out before it.It knows no torment.No tortureof seconds and hours —iron hands that ticktheir meaningless powerupon even the mostmeaningful of lives.Limiting and frighteningour physical mindsinto rejectingtheir very own flesh. In the past, I wretchedupon such fears at night.Turned to the solaceof other realmsthat I beheldbehind my eyes.So desperately,endlesslydid I consciously tryto keep both feethere upon the earth —feeling the rough dustdeep within my lungsas I learned to cherishthe human hurts.I tried to ignorethe seductive, siren callof those ageless,tenacious depthsthat would ultimatelyprove falsemy mortal pretendingthat there truly isa death. Yet I will alwaysfeel and sensethat limitless,winged thing —gliding utterly freein all
Fire In Her Eyes
An old man in blue suspendersgazed down at his wifewho had just slipped awayin this hospital Her last breath was takenat 2152, documented by doc’s writingwhat started with chest painended in this dimly lit room The old man looked up at megravity pulled a tear to his shoeI blinked, the room began to spin The old manin blue suspendersthen calmly said, “As I look down at her wrinkled faceand thin lips,I can vividly remember the dayour friendship began Her eyes were full of lifeher red lips plump,her smile made my heartbrew emotions that wouldn’t pass We talked about these thingsthat made life seem so right She was my best friend. Now here lies her peaceful facewashed away and paledeath has finally taken heras it will me But those moments,those moments of lifethe bliss and her youthlive on immortally she’s still there in my mindthat young girl,with fire in her eyes.” By IrieSide, ©2020 Return to Poetry Gallery