OPEN MIC ARCHIVE 
July, 2003

OPEN MIC ENCORE I August, 2003

OPEN MIC ENCORE II August, 2003

 

Spend a moment, portent the sage
Place your words upon a blank page
Remain true, seek wisdom's wealth,
The life purchased is for yourself.
 
When thought occurs, have pen at ready
Retain, persevere the momentary
For that which passes will not return,
The life purchased is for yourself.
 
To write, you read what I say
Of my passing by this way
On some page that which I say,
Is the life purchased for myself.
 
by Bill Albright

=0=

The Orpheus Gambit
no. 92
by Steve O.
 
So indeterminable the solitary bridge spanned
As though the ancestors alive I paced
The staccato of a lonely foot upon the expanse
Alone except for occasionally wayward companions
I endured the projectiles still and bore the truth
Into the amber of the fading dusk it carried me
And so the ticks passed into what is
By austere camps I pitched my tent
And warmed my heart in desolate infrequency
Until the day the bridge not appearing straight
I circled and joined the helix split
Another sojourning orphan unto my village crept
The bridge no longer spans cacophony
The fire bleeds music into the cavern
And into our home the warmth nuzzles all.

=0=

BONSAI INTO HAIKU
Clive Filkins
 
Jacky working as well as hobbying in horticulture
was invited to Bonsai group meetings by a workmate.
Attending the first and second but excusing off the third
and forgetting the fourth I asked why give in so early,
for she is a long term sticker at projects undertaken.
 
After a few days of putting me off she finally relented
and over coffee mugs in the garden said,
"You'll think I'm silly, but I consider it cruel to the plants,
all that root trimming and limb tying back".
 
I paused to take the moment in and laughed
as I hugged her tightly.
"There is a poem in this", I told her then.
And we both laughed as we clung onto each other
beside newly planted azalea and a barrow of mulch.
 
succinct remainders
Haiku unlike plant Bonsai
is brief not cruel

=0=

 I HOPE THERE IS THIS
Veronica Garcia
I hope there is a moon in the fields where you play,
 I am the serenity in the world that walked astray.
Untouchable as you seem to be,
 secrets slipping away,
   stars could not shine still in the night,
 crickets they dance and serenade you away.
What is this I hear of bright,
 for deserts are full of the sun you could have borrowed,
  instead destiny of a broken one.
Ungrateful life bent with black rocks of joy,
 temperament was fun at once before it walked away.
The clouds will float on by when you are not watching,
 coveting the every strength of giving it a try,
   Only saving your pride.
Vanity is what lights the black in night,
 you never go down losing a fight.
I hope there is a life for you i may have missed,
 filled with misery the one you kissed,
  swallowed by a life that keeps you pissed,
I hope there is this.

=0=

HERE TO STAY
         RAVEN F
 
I was sitting, watching the birds
I wished I could jump on their backs and fly away.
But then I realized, I was here to stay.
As the birds went over my head,
The tears pooled like liquid from a waterfall.
Just crashing down on a rock, making it flat,
Making it flat, like a box floating in the water.
After a shipwreck has done it's due.

=0=

WANDERLUST
Emeniano A. Somoza, Jr.
 
Lying in a tent
across a murmuring stream
I stole a moonbeam.

=0=

OVER COFFEE
Harry B. Morton, II (IRME)
Over coffee-espresso, of course-
words fell from his mouth,
much like pieces of a puzzle,
until a true picture had formed.
Truth can be cruel-
especially over coffee-
but, there it is...
 
Over coffee-black and hot-
she never spoke a word,
listening as I unveiled his,
as her eyes refused my own.
Truth can be cruel-
especially over coffee-
but, there it was...
=0=

With a tear she placed the ring in the box.
Fearful now that all was lost.
Memories clouded her mind.
Life had not been kind.
Where was the fairy tale.
Mama had read to her about.
Where were the hearts.
The flowers.
Now replaced by doubt.
Out to lunch with friends.
Trying on disguises.
Trying to mend.
Replacing the masquerade.
With an awkward grin.
Trying to begin again.
Yet now she's tainted.
Like a mask that's painted.
All she hears the whispers say.
Is nobody stays married anymore today.

JoyceAnna-MarieMassad

=0=

CARVED OUT IN STONE
 Lisa Henderson
 
You wrote of our love, forever carved out in stone.  But what of our boys and their happy home?  You were their daddy, you could do no wrong, now they see you a coward where they once saw you strong.
I believed you to be a man of your word, so many promises now broken where better left unheard, remember your promise "you'll never raise them alone"?  just a fool to believe you had carved that in stone.
Sitting here now though its your voice that I hear, and its your face I still see beneath falling tears.
So many questions unanswered, no reasons just why?  What was so wrong that you could no longer try?
Now here we are the boys and I, together yet each so alone,  standing next to what's left of their daddy so dear,  just your name carved out in stone. 

=0=
Nobbylocks
david aaron
polish
11-years old
I'm in a playground with other boys
crying and crying
at the wall
being squeezed out of a tube
I see myself coming out
dec. 24th, 1994
things I cannot explain
beat the limits right out of me
I don't care
stevie wonder embraced me
held both of my arms and whispered tenderly to me
quiet and beautiful
edge of a canyon
a sunrise at 5pm
completely surrounded by fifty elk
drinking loose earl grey tea
gasoline
scattered symbols, coloured
blood
4
set
isolated thought
noise
the smack of a hand
rushing trains
hazy drawing reality
stuck in my head
I see a room from two opposite views
candles test my fear
sitting on the floor of my closet
stuff falling on me
sinking to the bottom
waiting for someone to hear me
to come and help me
woke up mom
stuff on the porch
not laid down
before I was born
quiet, but effective
feeling nothing
darkness
silence

=0=

Reversing the Law of Diminishing Returns
Bob G. Vanderwest 

In joining, a man and woman
Remake Adam---Eve
Returning a rib---
With interest.

=0=

Stereotype
Lisa M. Pilgrim
This is just a stereotypical poem,
Written about a stereotypical girl,
She is the weird one,
The poet,
Her soul is on paper,
This is just a stereotypical poem,
About a stereotypical girl,
Her heart is in her pen,
She screams out to the world,
Her quiet keystrokes are her song,
She confides in her notebook,
Spilling out her crazy mind at three-o-clock in the morn,
She doesnít even have to think,
For her head is so poetic in itself.
She gets lost in her world,
Listening to her poetic music,
This is just a stereotypical poem,
Written by a stereotypical girl.

=0=

THE ONE
kwakou butcher

Lyrical wiz kid, known to only those he sees as his brethren. Power passed down through a long bloodline and multiplied through the tests faced by each generation during these unending trying times. Short lived public fame, only being able to charge 15 minutes to his name yet, a life long legacy surpasses the ages through his ghetto remains. New school and old he has passed through both time frames and still maintains his truths with out shame. Faithful to all that he's got, for life is but a physical loan to be repaid only through spiritual repentance. A relentless struggle we endure, only to receive the gift of being recycled back into a higher level of stress. Still as a mind above others he retains his composure and advances his gain. Multiplying his mental in order to gain a better understanding of self. In order to lead a life beneficial to others and weakening to the struggle faced by so many and conquered by none. He is the one....

=0=

SUNK BY BRIBERY
Prince Odimegwu Onwumere

In the church
In the police
In the offices, bribery is a culture
In the general ramification
Bribe is prevalent universally
Vastly it's accepted with
Gross conduct, no man thinks
little salary makes vast wealth
In our days any more. No man wants to
Be called "the bad man" but we're all
Spoilt in how we sell ourselves; many
ignorants cast vote which ought to be
Weighed than counting.
Man shall one day sell this world
As the son of man was sold.
ALAS! Pity to man who dwell with
Good an bad, than one; HYPOCRITES!

=0=

 The Soul Of The Deejay
Jonas Valonis
I was pushed into hell of drums
So far my soul can't live without drums.
When I feel it with my fingertip,
That all I need to do is to click.
 
The strategy of movement my music is.
And it goes a little something like this!
Sound samples feat. perfect ear
Complicated and mixed right here.
 
The music in me melts my body.
Flash-light through all night party.
Can you face my soul music?
On the dance-floor, what's inside me, start to use it.

=0=

Sometimes Natures Beauty frees  from life's concerns
Mind is taken away as the Horizon Slowly Burns
Feelings awakened by the Vista Sight
In a flood of colors Day melts to Night
Darkness falls engulfing the sky
Feeling alive but about to die
Embrace the cold dark hand of Death
Live every moment as if last breath

                Daniel Conover

=0=

Can't Get Free 
Cory Quirino
 
Lying down in the middle of the field watching the beautiful colors of the sky pass me by and by.  The sun peaks though the clouds every now and then.  The grass feels so good and the ground is so soft.  A sheet of dew cover the land giving off the smell of morning mist like when you first take that first step out into nature. 
A gust of wind comes and blows the leaves around.  The small little creatures that live in the ground come up to the surface and crawl all over my body.  Then slowly they start to eat away at me.  I canít get free.  And now the colors have changed and things just aint the same. 
The colors go dark and the clouds turn black.  The smell of death and fear and pain come about.  The sun is completely gone.  Nature is bringing along a great storm.  Thing just aint the way they seem anymore.  Everybody has left me.  Now I am all alone in the field and I still canít get free.
It starts to rain.  I get all wet and start to sink.  I sink into the ground.  Iím becoming part of the earth.  It pulls me in closer and closer.  Deeper and deeper I go.  The light gets smaller and smaller.  Iím in too far, I canít get free.
The creatures dig into me.  They eat out my brain.  They eat out my heart.  I am no more.  Itís too much that I have to give up.  They control everything.  They make me do things I donít want to do.  They make me feel what I donít want to feel.  They make me see, touch, and hear that which I have no desire.  I have no more emotions to myself and I still canít get free.
It hurts so much.  There is so much pain.  I canít stand it anymore.  I scratch at all I can with all my strength.  But it is useless.  There is no more hope for me.  Iím not going to make it no more.  Iím not free.

=0=

The Passing
This poem is dedicated to Lindy ≠ a spirit, flying free.
© Grace Galton July 2003
 
The blood-red crescent of morning
wreathes the mountain top,
silently stealing the night.
Silky soft ether caresses
his face- ancient , leathered
and weathered by countless suns.
His closed eyes filter the new light
through almost translucent lids.
His withered arms remain outstretched,
beseeching his spirit ancestors
to share Eternity with him.
 
The gentle breeze strengthens,
lifting and rummaging beneath
his cloak of aged buffalo hide,
inquisitively fingering the
parchment skin stretched
drum-tight over bones
as old as memory
 
Motionless he sits in trance
through many phases of the Moon.
A shell from which all life
but breath has fled
patiently awaiting
The Passing.
 
Suddenly, an eagle soars
its spirit whispering on the wind
in final answer to his chants .

=0=

 CHRISTMAS.
david wood
 It's christmas eve and I'm warm in bed
 Gazing at the stars for santa on his sled
 My mother and father in the room next door
 I'm safe and secure, who could ask for more?
 The roof covered in snow, the night so cold
 I lay awake as the dawn unfolds
 What gifts will i get? I think to myself
 Recalling the toys on the store shelves.
 I slept very little, though i had few cares
 I awoke very early and ran down the stairs
 My brother and sisters joined in the fun
 Opening our presents one by one.
 It's hard to accept, sad to let go
 Of those days as a child i used to know

=0=

Born Again
By: Hope Marie Vitale
 
All the angels looked in disbelief
As the all mighty took out the sheath
He in a quick downward motion
Stopped all his pain and commotion
The boys family screamed and cried
His friends had a part of them die
But the all mighty bowed his head and gave a sigh
And said gently that it was just his time
That he would have another chance someday
Where the pain would have gone totally away
Now he was saved and safe from harm
The all mighty raised his powerful arm
When a small cry was heard from Earth
As a new mother just gave birth
He would be a man someday
Because he has no pain today
The All Mighty was happy with this
And his sheath as dismissed
Because now was the boy chance
All the world was here at first glance.

=0=

Darkness Falls
Darkheart
  As the light dims and disappears, darkness falls
  It begins to slowly embrace my being, closing in on me like a vice
  I gasp for a breath, I fight it with all my strength
  I succumb to its blackness, submit to its emptiness
  It imprisons my mind and owns my soul
  My heart thumps loud as if to burst, no one hears
  My tears splash to the cold floor, no one sees
  I lay writhing as it cuts deeper, ever deeper, no one feels
  It tortures me relentlessly, I'm changing, turning, no one knows
  I reach out from the void but touch no one
  Hideous and horrible, its death quickening through my veins
  Oh precious light please, please return soon before this me is no more
  What all fear most is emerging from inside
  My heart races, my thoughts labored, my head pounds
  I am covered in sweat and shaking violently
  Suddenly, I am spewed out of its mouth like vomit
  I sense every horror rushing out as peace eases in
  I float down lightly, my eyes open to a soft ray of dawn
  You beautiful sunshine, thank you once again
  The day is truly glorious until, darkness falls

=0=

Unavoidable...
Nosa Eguae
When i die, you above all are the one i hope not to see
I will try and avoid you, your area and locale
Ashamed, and after acquainting myself with your habits
I hope i'll never stumble into your path, and begin to mumble
 
Or hear your footsteps familiar and hide like a child
Cowering in my own introverted impotent insignificance
But ever curious i'll stalk you. Close by, unrecognized
I'll laugh at your jokes, as though you told them to me
 
I'll pretend to myself i assisted you in some way
That my memory catalyzed and affected all you've done
A false sense of satisfaction will secure me internally
Hoping that eternity erodes my memory
 
Would you know my name? Would you have been waiting?
I wonder what you shall look like. And who/what named.
Whether you cried in sorrow? Disappointment? Or pain?
Whether (i feel selfish now) I am responsible and to blame
 
Of these things i am curious, but selfish entirely
One request though i'd hope would benefit us both
My fingers are shaking, my eyes welled...but
I hope that you never see the face of your father

=0=

Legends and Stories ,And Songs about people,
I don't know.
Words and opinions, And magic phrases,
Like because he loved me so.
Simple ideas, And colorful paintings,
Cities long since dead.
Men with conviction, Son of perdition,
And something I just read.
If I started today it'd be hard to tell the story of
What you did with sand and water.
No lightning strikes or death defying water walks
Small voices, still from the above.
Raised hands,
Undying conviction.
Lights shining down on the stage.
Joy Shouts
Sea of agreeing
I'm looking for keys to the cage

jeff.johnson

=0=

BIT BY BIT!
GunBritt EngstrŲm  
 
I travel, half across the globe,
without knowing what to find!
Where I thought business was behind,
I found warmth and consideration
 
I'm just an ordinary person.. though well protected,
so ... who am I to be so accepted?
I know one thing only, I cherish my friends..
maybe they feel it.
... and ...
I feel I concur the world when I find a friend that likes me
small moments .. small pieces ..building up until a friend is born ..
 
bit by bit
=0=

The Judgment
By Tamara Beryl Latham, c 2003
 
A ship glides into port this night
and stirs the sable sea,
presents a solemn, eerie sight
because it waits for me.
 
I board though distant memory
fuels quickly, growing fears,
unleashing ghosts who claim they're me
and lived in former years.
 
Cathedral bells toll heavy through
my life's divided acts,
as wraiths hold writs for all to view;
corroborated facts.
 
Soon Autumn winds expand the sails,
I've tallied riches few.
The lighthouse shrieks our mournful wails,
me and my ghostly crew.

=0=

SELF PRAYER
            joshua baker
 
Break me and release me
to the bosom of the dirt.
I am scared that death is
painful, but
I know that life must hurt.
But as i'm cast to feed the flowers
and to hold the waters flow,
I remember I've arrived, and
when you come you also go.
So lead me not into temptation,
my desires strip away,
and let me see
only
the good things,
till my final dying day

=0=

tomorrow becomes today
when i see a future unborn
maybe salvation will pass
and I'll walk away
but the mirage keeps me free
and I'll walk beyond eternity

ignatious

=0=

LIAR
Tameka Pero
 
Bold faced liar, tongue full of fire
Words that kill and sting once song
So many lies, tales of the tongue
Fabrications of the truth, love songs undone
 
Lies roll off the tongue, without a stutter, not skipping a beat
They say, easier said than done you see
Smiling in my face and stabbing me in the back - believe that?
 
What's the purpose?  What's the sense?
I didn't even ask for half the comments
 
A - logical question, should receive B - logical answer, but
C - No truth and D - eny the obvious and choose C
 
Fleshy desires, turned you into a master liar
They sound so good, you wish you could, believe them
Breaking the trust - it meant so much
So difficult to build, like water very easy to spill

=0=

Summer 
Ellen
Summer time is filled with bees
making honey in the trees.
 
Watermelon is the passion
and flip-flops are the fashion.
 
All the summer songs are sung.
In Autumn, summer's done!                                          

OPEN MIC ENCORE I August, 2003

OPEN MIC ENCORE II August, 2003

 

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Page Copyright © AHApoetry.com 2003.

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