OPEN MIC ARCHIVE
OPEN MIC ENCORE I
OPEN MIC ENCORE II
OPEN MIC ENCORE III
Onyeka George Nwelue
The song that thralls the night
with stings and courage, flows
over my thought with moan and rumbles.
I sat to listen to the sonorous voices
of the midnight children
ravish the air with their unnameable songs
singing from ‘tin-ni-ni-ta-na-na’
to ‘biko-Obi-lota-‘, making me look more awry
as the birds glide above the skies.
They sing these songs with one light-voice
crippling my legs with a bounteous dance
‘Ah!’ I wanted to dance, but this could be the song
of the evil children, I mean the midnight ones-
Are they singing to return again and again?
‘I want them to know that their devilments have come to a finis’
They are still singing:
‘Tin-ni-ni-ta-na-na, biko Obi lota’
aha! The Obi could be with that deserted woman
in the gutters of shame? Ah! Thrice, Obi came
and thickly, he went in bold-three.
I grossly weep for the hut in which
he has been returning to, and unmistakably wish that he
comes there no more.
Ah! Their songs still the night and make the morning
birds glide into the tunnels of death
under the straits of an undeniable sources of death-row
they sing away the beauties of motherhood-
My tiny universe, frozen and quiet.
As the turquoise sky darkens, gradually,
Tiny corpuscles unfold their wings to mottle joy upon their own world.
Each of my breath, a musical note,
Vibrating the crimson water of my arteries
While each tiny topaz, flip-flopping from the huge celestial garden, above,
to my bones.
Behind her veil, the moon, glistening her light through my flesh,
I feel light like a feather that hovers, without being pulled by gravity;
An embryo, from the apex of my heart, ready to explode and emerge onto this
A thought, a poem, and a story
for Johnnie's 3rd. birthday
by Grandma Barbie - Barbara Alyea 11-05
When, talking to Johnnie, on the phone one day.
Saying goodbye in our usual way.
I said, "I love you Johnnie, really I do."
And, he said "Grandma Barbie, I lub you too."
But, "Johnnie," I cried, "I love you more."
And, I heard him giggle and I heard him roar.
He said, "I love you more, than my gummy bears."
I said, "I love you more, than apples and pears."
He said, "I love you more, than ice cream and cake."
I said, "I love you more, than the cookies I bake."
He said, "I love you more, than my tootsie rolls."
I said, "I love you more, than you'll ever know."
He said, "I love you more, please come play with me."
I said, "I love you more, I promise, you'll see."
I said, I love you, Johnnie really I do."
And, he said, "Grandma Barbie, I lub you too."
TIS THE SEASON
Some time ago in Bethlehem
A child was born to save and mend
The lost and wounds that sin did birth
The plight of man that walks this Earth
Unstained, Holy, Humble and true
The Son Of Man that Heaven drew
Ventured to preach words never spoken
The deaf would hear, their silence broken
The blind would see the light of day
The lame would walk yet still today
Those not blind, nor deaf or lame
live life enslaved with unseen chains
They splurge their soul but spare no time
and gorge themselves with words unkind
Forgetting what the season brings
JESUS who paid for everything
Tis the season or should I say
Give thanks to Christ whose birthday gave
A chance to know humility
That lived to die for you and me
Merry CHRISTmas to my fellow poets!
HOLIDAYS ON CALL
BY LIP SAI LIN
ESCAPE FROM THE TREMENDOUS PRESSURE OF
RELAX AND CLOSER TO NATURE
THAT IS ONCE ABANDONED
LISTENING TO THE WATER DRIPPING
LISTENING TO THE WIND MURMURING
LISTENING TO THE LEAVES FLUTTERING
LISTENING TO THE SMALL CREATURES HISSING
THE BUSTLING OF NATURE
THE SOFT VOICES OF GOD WHO CREATES
SO CLOSE AND HEARTENING
SORED HEARTS CALMED
CONFUSED MINDS RECOVERED
AND THIS IS WHY
IT IS SO CALLED
A HOLY - DAY
A teen's Life
I was a child
Five years old
Pullin' weeds and catchin' fish
Just havin' fun
But in the afternoon, I became a
My life's just
I am a teen
Why oh why
Was I born
I don't want to exist, Mommy.
Help me up
While lookin' for independence
I need a helpin' hand
And nobody's holding it
They just don't understand
No; it's "Clean your room"
"Brush your teeth"
"You're missing ten assignments,"
Or "I love you." "Good job."
Never "Good-bye" or "I'll miss you"
It's "get to school kid, hurry up, now."
This, I tell you
Is a teen's life.
By Lindsay Coker
Hey, little photon, am I right?
You and your brothers make up light,
Get up close and form a stream,
Work together as a team?
Hey, little photon, do you act alone,
Or only with the other clones?
Be a wave of specific length
Or a particle of unknown strength?
Hey, little photon, what's it like out out there?
Out in space and unaware
You could come to earth and hit my eye
And make me see. Do you die?
Part of universal history,
Backdrop to the human mind,
You might be real or just a fable -
Will us humans one day find
In searching out your mystery
That reality is just a label?
the wind and the raining
i'm your wanna do right
and a bad rendition of a do again and again
over and over and in between with no end in sight
i'm an always never there kinda mirror
looking back at you
but i'm never always there
i'm far too many questions asked
and i'm your no answer
and all the things you've never said
i'm your prayer for rain in your wasteland of a dreamland
i'm a half empty twenty seven minute snooze on sunday
and the other half of empty is you not awake
i'm the in between and the beginning
i'm all of you and none of you
and the wind and the raining
*Carved In My Memory*
By: Anan M.K. Tello
somewhere deep in the memory of mine
there's someone who always shines
to underline the words of my lineless lines
and to my memory he always combines
in my crowded memory he carved his nameless name
and from my dictionary he crossed the word shame
since that day i have never been the same
thus me thou may not blame
i smashed grammar and broke all the rules
'cause i no longer need such tools
and i don't even need to be cool
'cause i'll keep on diving in my memory pool
the carving of his name doesn't hurt me at all
it's like a freezing coal
that gives a cute shiver to my pure soul
which urges me to achieve my goal
THE CONSTRUCTION WORKER
WAKE UP, THE START OF A NEW DAY,
FEEL SO TIRED BUT GOT TO EARN MY PAY.
ANOTHER DAY THE SAME OLD GRIND,
SOMETIMES, THINK I AM LOOSING MY MIND.
GET UP EAT SOME TOAST, DRINK A COFFEE,
IT'S HARD WORKING FOR THE BOSS YOU SEE.
START THE DAY IT'S HARD TOIL
DIGGING OUT THE RUBBLE AND THE SOIL.
WORKING HARD IN THE POURING RAIN,
WITH EACH SHOVEL MY MUSCLES FEEL THE PAIN.
THE RAIN FALLS DOWN MY FACE,
AND THE MUD LEAVES IT' S STICKY TRACE.
GET THE RUBBLE OUT WITH A PICK,
STONES HARD, DIRTY, AND THICK.
A CONSTRUCTION WORKERS LIFE AINT FUN,
BUT IT'S WORK THAT'S GOT TO BE DONE.
BLOOD, SWEAT, PAIN, SOMETIMES TEARS,
HAVE BEEN THE FOUNDATION OF BUILDINGS FOR YEARS.
IF IT WAS NOT FOR PEOPLE LIKE ME ,
A HOSPITAL OR OFFICE WONT BE BUILT YOU SEE.
SO WHEN YOU SIT IN YOUR NEW OFFICE, REMEMBER
MEN LIKE ME,
BECAUSE WITHOUT US THERE WOULD BE ,NO TOWN OR CITIES.
Things Fall Apart,
The centre cannot hold,
My life is collapsing,
My youth is passing,
And soon I will be going to another place,
Where it would be my better taste,
Where this new life won't go to waste.
My old life was alright,
But then it was all uptight,
and then it fell apart.
I am going to a new world,
where i didn't know a word.
I am starting a new life,
which is better than alright.
A Dream is Like a Leaf (reflections on a lucid dream)
A dream is like a leaf falling through the air. I have had good dreams and
some have been fair. I peer through glass in all my dreams, and sometimes have
this feeling that it's not as it seems.
I’ve had tropical dreams where I am on a beach, mesmerized by the beauty
that’s all within reach. I hear the melodious tune of the waves as they
splash, and know that this sound can be bought with no cash. Graceful
waterfalls and thriving trees, fill the landscape 360 degrees. The sunlight
reflects off the pristine ocean, just like it does off a mirror in motion.
Tropical birds give this island a unique touch, making all other islands not
seem like much. The song of the birds is harmony on its own, but the gentle
waterfall contributes to the environments tone. The breeze blows by ever so
slight, and the heat escapes my body without even a fight. I inhale all this
beauty and I become sad, because I know it's a dream and this paradise can't
be had. I look to the blue sky and smile at my creation, and take another
moment to enjoy this salvation.
There is an indicator of reality in all of my dreams, sometimes a tree
avoiding the suns beams. The tree tries to stay unspotted like a thief, with
small little branches sponsoring a single leaf. The leaf falls from the tree
flowing through the air, and uses the wind as if they were a pair. The travel
of the leaf is free and strong. This is the part of my dream when I feel
something is wrong. Because a dream is like a leaf when falling to the ground,
it will move freely but stop without sound.
I take one last look at my surroundings and nod, in realization that it's too
perfect and that is just odd. A single leaf is seen stranded in the sand,
motionless, signifying that there will be no more and. Over the ocean
the dark clouds begin to group, reality invades my mind like a military troop.
And there I lay in bed with the night's sky in sight, because a dream is like
a leaf and not like a kite.
As I skipped
Across a group of
Alligators I noticed they were eating
Alligators. One of them
Almost bit my
Arm off. Luckily I had my
At the end of the scuffle
A lot of the
Alligators had lost
And I was
Attorney told me to plead insanity and I was
THIS GUY DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE'S DOING
© 2000 by Michael J. Farrand
This guy doesn't know what he's doing
I smugly thought
No rhyme, no meter
Where was he taught?
His love lines
Are so bathetic.
No theme or hook
Has he ever
Read a book?
Why do they clap so?
Could it be
They just don't know
This guy doesn't know what he's doing?
-A memory is a picture we haven't played yet
Her pretty face starts to fade away
Maybe from the loss of sleep or the drug games she plays
Trying to earn a smile that forms on it’s own
But all that created a laugh seems to have left, or flown
Luck all seemed bad so forward she went, searching for the end
Nothing or nobody to fight for, only herself she is trying to defend
She feels she has found herself in no place at all
Feeling blinded by life, cause it’s acting like a heavy snowfall
Impossible to see past anything, just to wonder and into the space she would
Afraid to take a step, already knowing that it’s not going to be safe there
Only knowing to hide behind someone, feeling secure
Running out of people to stand behind, needing a new cure
For the first time she is failing because she’s alone
Lying to everyone and herself, thinking she can do it on her own
Getting separated, building a wall, closing her mind shutting the world out
Why is it that, when she tries, the only belief she gets is doubt
Realizing there’s no-one to call
The end catches up, it returns, the ground comes closer as she comes to a fall
Out of its embrace fall words you wished you said,
The heaven’s a gaze places freedom in your hands
Perched with wrinkled feet placed upon an old park bench
Draw a colder night before you, onward looks beyond the mend.
A shallow grave uncovers mysteries to be held,
The bottomless uncertainty grows faintness in detail.
Watch, look, and listen, you may be called unto your master,
A token awaits, hearts racing ever faster.
Out like the dust in like the wind,
A 911 soldier, an Iraqi gentlemen.
Lovers, stopping staring, molding, just to leave their past behind,
Looking back at what they shattered, for the chasing of their mind.
Chaos, victories, wars, and couples who’ve grown old
A broken mind in your memory bank, to tarots cards foretold.
Young starlets paid for dumbness in this all American dream,
But valued are things in secret, done without applause or high lit beams.
Looking backwards, and ahead, not having known the moment
Living like your dying, striking out at your opponents.
Life that which this is, from my lens, and sad it’s so,
And yet, I see the good and in one breath, let it all go.
Columbus, Rosa, Armstrong mark the path to which I take,
Planted with desires, had a vision, owned the stake.
All but were the leaders of my mind, the things to which I sow,
And in the shroud of Turin, proves the things to which I know.
The stones I cast upon the shore begin a peaceful drift into my soul,
I am, I was, I will become, as an angel in this fold.
Mr. Sandman placed the magic, and pegged this stance that I now lead,
As I swam across a violent ocean, with sharks beneath my feet.
Out came the sun, and my walk has followed by the rain
Crossed the finish line untouched, my treasure still awaits.
CRIMSON AND SEA
by Nicole M. Keenan
I felt refreshed, I felt dead
I felt like ashes that had just been created by an apocalyptic explosion
I close my eyes again
And still see the crimson and sea flashing to the Earth
To destroy the breath of life
I do no want to be near this window
Enclosed in a small room, my golden cage
So I walk along the dirt road of my mind
To a better place
Lit blue by the moon and the fish in my lake
Glowing in rosy shades
Dipping my feet in, chasing the fireflies,
And listening to the crickets’ song
I can actually taste the breath of life again
IN OTHER WORLDS
In other worlds, unlike my own
A gap is hung between some things,
Related strife’s that beings face
I am unknown yet not alone,
Regardless distance place
In other worlds, I am despised,
For conflicts brew unwanted scenes,
Where men might crave me beaten down
If I believe and say to them,
“Please treat all women as if queens”,
In other worlds, one pigment stands,
No room is there for colored parts
And people’s eyes get filled with hate
When sound my voice to simply say,
“I look upon no skin at all, but only at the heart”
In other worlds, I’m deeply loved
For nothing changes, we’re the same,
For we’re all born with innocence
And given first, our names
With A Death
With a death,
Comes eternal sinking of a sun,
A moons half face shot to bits.
Gone are days and the night put to sleep,
The shrinking of a stretching space,
The grave sky folding in, funneling stars
In a sack cloth glitter pulling void.
With a death,
The ceasing of ticking, ringing,
Clock and bells last rasping gasp.
The hush of a tongue on an ear,
A blink of an eye and the shutters nailed down.
The rubbing of words to a blank page,
Ink, slipping up through the nib of a pen.
A book- back to pulp to wood to a tree,
Flat lining a deathbed of rusting leaf,
Rising up to merits height, to root- to bulb- to seed.
Mountains to rock - pebbles to sand to mud to silt
That's washed far out to an empty sea.
With a death,
Menstrual cycles synchronize a halt.
The unborn sucked from the red-hot womb.
The winning sperm, slipping off an egg,
Ejaculating back to a stiff- limp shaft.
All land and sea born tumbling off-
A matters spinning speck,
Tarried down to an ancient glow,
Beyond an eons blackness- beyond nothingness,
Dense as air- as water iron.
The gaping cracks in a theorist's critical point.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2002
The dock birds
pull me to the sea
like I am pulled to suffering,
to Istanbul, that wrings sorrows
that fall on me.
Solitude without you.
In this obscure city,
my blood clotting,
I am snowed under with dreams.
The wide streets accentuate your absence.
Istanbul takes me from city to city.
This great place is well-versed
in my suffering,
the dock birds pull me
to their tired nights
and Istanbul searches
top to bottom.
Solitude without you.
Poems Copyright ©
designated authors 2006.
Page Copyright © AHApoetry.com 2006.
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