Open Mic Archives
December, 2006

She Kept Her Left Breast.
Terry Collett
She kept her left breast
For the coming of spring
And the birds that may sing,
And her right
For the joys of the night
That may end in a fight.
She kept her right eye
For the children who die
And her left eye
For the bereft who cry.
She kept her right hand
To soothe and to hold
And to warm the cold,
And the hand on her right
For those without sight
Who stumbled in black of night.
She kept her left foot
To walk with her God
And tread the ways that He trod,
And the foot on her right
To stand on the hill
And view the passing of time.
Dreamless Slumber 
Gary M. Austin
Winter never drew so near
The dying leaves of one more year.
Grmily silent, cold and deep
But dreamless slumber is not sleep.
Kissed with lonelieness and fear
Of dying lonely, lying here
Trees look on the world and weep
But dreamless rest is not their sleep.
Soon enough, that sleep will come -
Feared by many, cheered by some.
Spirits on the watch they keep
Know dreamless slumber is not sleep.
Kingdom of Heaven
Kingdom of Heaven, to wail and to pray
My Mecca is you, life bountiful and gay
They plead to unseen and harbour fear
I have you in my eyes and know you care
They kiss the walls of fire and stone
I bow to thee, no walls have I grown
They shall touch the skies, they believe 
Why shall I care with heaven on my sleeve
The Erl-King
By Rhiannon Y. 
Riding through the forest,
In the dark of the night,
Rides my father on horse-back,
Holding me so tight.
I see a strange figure,
Up ahead on the track,
Itís the erl-king dear father,
So please donít look back.
Heís talking to me dad,
I feel very frightened,
He tells me not to worry,
But his pace fastens.
Father you donít listen,
The erl-kings breathís so clear,
Itís just the wind he tells me,
I know the ends near.
The erl-king is asking,
For me to go with him,
I know heíll look after me,
The future looks dim.
There is something out there,
Did you feel it go past?
He sure did sense it this time,
His face was aghast.
The erl-king wants me now,
He is grabbing me tight,
I scream and shout to father,
Dad Iím full of fright.
I love you dear father,
I feel the cold numbing,
There is nothing to do now,
The dark is coming.
By Austyn Njoku
the spirits speak
through eyes in the mind
they make us see
deeds in the dark
the spirits speak
to those we've known
with heart and soul
when a pact is periled
the spirits speak
they make us feel
the eerie chills of fear
of yet unknown deeds
of our otherness
the spirits speak
when distance is license
for deeds in the dark
the gossamers of today
disappear like dews of dawn
under piercing rays of tomorrow.
Does an empty vase bare of substance
Not hold its value of that substance 
Does the same shadow of distant past
Not awaken a memory, that seems to last 
Like a witty comment that ignites a smile 
Like a pretty dress that beams for a mile 
With a slow death comes new creation
Sifting through the mental stagnation
Like warm socks straight from the dryer
Choosing the road which is seldom higher
by Othmane Merzak
Upon my word, she loves me
For the entire world, she loves me
Shred my fingers, she hates me
Her stench still lingers, she killed me
Foreword put foreword, she hunts me
Like a wolf on a herd, she eyes me
Star bright, cruel eyes
Demonic turns in her enterprise
Colossal, indebted
She wonít let me sleep at night
Staring at her scathing gaze
Consumed, Iím all ablaze
My foresight was shunning
The possibility, this canít be happening
Crudely destructive
Simply defective
She put a bullet in my mind
Not only disruptive
But also effective
She pulled the trigger on the shiny guy
Star bright, cold eyes
Demonic burns on her wretched lies
Moonshine, one rhyme
She burnt my world for a little light.
Joyous reveries
Calcinated dreams
Lovebirds in trees
Their eyes are a deadly red gleam
Marla DiGiacomo
crisp light
harkens to a
time of rest
cozy warmth
resonates with
autumnís best
Ron Clement
Our society...
Asylums do exists in,
Where do you belong?
She promises,
she smiles,
she beguiles
but I know she lies,
and through her smiles a child hides.
She says she will be there for me, care for me, but when I ring her up sheís never there.
Sheís always busy, always out, always!
Sometimes sheíll telephone and I gush,
I race to pick up.  I smile even though Iím on my own.
Life is so full for her you see, she hasnít time to spare for me.
Then there was the change. 
Work took me away and I became popular,
I became sought after,
head hunted.
I worked long hours,
I socialized, danced, I became whole and my life was full.
She called me one day and complained.
Said Iíd ignored her needs, done her ill deeds, was never there for her.
So I cancelled all my meetings, bought a train ticket and went to visit.
When I arrived I had become invisible; ignored.
She promises,
she smiles,
she beguiles
but I know she lies. 
              by James Dean McNeish
The loser, General Lee, wore clean, neat attire.
The victor, General Grant, was a whiskey-stained mess.
This proves, boys and girls, that Mom is a liar.
Nice clean clothes don't lead to success.
Alone i lay on a wooden raft
Alone i stay in the dark
Alone i pray to survive
Alone i may not survive
Alone i look out the sea
Alone i wake up on the sea
Alone i seek out for help
Alone i may not survive 
Alone i eat my dry food
Alone i drink the salty water
Alone i sit in the cold
Alone i may not survive
Alone, yes, alone i stare at the storm
Alone, yes, alone i live on the sea
Alone, yes, alone i wait for the rescue boat Alone, yes, alone i may not survive
Alone, yes, alone i pray to be safe
Alone, yes, alone i call out for help
Alone, yes, alone i get on the boat
Alone, yes, alone i was rescued
Alone, yes, alone i lived on sea for months 
Alone, yes, alone i walk ashore unaided 
Alone, yes, alone i continue to hold 
the Guinness World Record for survival at sea
olivia lucinda holt
gentle glide for one beside... and dream Bestow a wonder in misanthropic blunder 
Oh cow. oh bird. Oh tempestuous bridal fume 
Let loose this life one dare consume without match 
in delightful bequeath gain ground for this petty soul underneath.
reach down, and reach low.  Gather moss and think slow.
Imprisoned by yield and caution and fear... 
Oh yes, the endearing middle
the competitive bungled between
thou art wrenched by inertia that avoids the obscene. 
One dares still dream.
Joseph Shrager
"I'm waiting"
By Sammer Al-Mashaqbeh
Dedicated to the spoiled-girl (2006)

Which road I choose, to lose my address
to feel all the pain, to live all the sadness
Like a black dot lost in a tome
Trying to find a letter to lie on, a word to complete, to find you, to find a home
Every night, I see someone like a quick gleam 
Telling me, you are losing me, we will never be one team 
It is you, it is my impossible dream
I'm waiting you in a shallow grave and before me a stack of sand 
Either you bury me or give me your hand 
Either with you above or alone underground 
Either you share my hard days or leave alone downed
dear spoiled-girl, my feelings are really more than true 
Without you, I will never be, I will never grow
The River
Tom Crowley
There is no river for me.
I stand on the shore
Of someone elseís river
And wait for them.
I stand on the bridge
Over this river
And talk to the water
Searching the surface for answers.
The river is silent
It is not my river
And it does not know me
So I must leave again
To continue my search
sudhan shakya

i don't have wings
for i would fly
i don't have a wish
for i would die
all i can do is
sit and watch
how the snake is preyed
upon the eagle's clutch
what i don't want !
is a thought of revenge
all i wish for
is a thought of change
Blake H.
In flanders field,
where men are lain.
The battle field,
so dark and grey.
Men had come,
and men had gone.
To bleed and die,
for ones they loved.
The torch still brightly burning,
but now has burned so dim.
Now we are responsible
who come and go.
But now red poppies grow.
for the men that shed there blood.
and for the men that came and died
Bring peace to all men kind.
will always be remember,
this war was to rotten,
for so many to be forgotten.

To remember the soldiers,
Sydney Hall Age 13

They didn't die because they got older, To remember why they fought, To remember what they taught, To see what they save, To praise that they gave, Their lives so we could live, In happiness - we give, To them two minutes of silence, On this day of remembrance, Of how killed and died, And how our families, they cried, And as we stand here before them today.

We remember them on remembrance day.

wish so
that I
could have wings
to fly
the birds
that leave for
the winter to
much warmer
what their path
would be
they had
Mario Difficulto And His Bed Of Death.
Terry Collett
ďHere is the challenge of an ancient man, Doubled up in his age and time, Buried with his grief and uttered tongue
In the dark days of his fiery youth,
Touched by neither book nor word
Or felt the look of love or grace,
But hid in all the outer face
With that deceit and sickly grin
And each and every bruising sin
That held me down through thick and thin, Oh, place your hand upon my brow, Fair brother, sister, show me how
From these dark times the way to go,Ē
Said Mario Difficulto on his bed of death.

Poems Copyright © designated authors 2007.
Page Copyright © 2007.

Go check out the AHA Archives for more poetry.
If you would like to send in your poem to Open Mic.
Go to the AHA!POETRY Homepage for new ideas.