Imagine that you are sitting at a table in a coffeehouse in the big city. You had come to hear the featured poet read the latest poems and they were good! so right-on and inspiring. The latte cup is empty and the bagel is only crumbs. The announcer with the dumb jokes has just said the mic is now open for poems from the audience. And there you are, weaving between chairs to the front of the room with a paper crackling in your hand. There you are reading your poem and all those people are listening to you. Only later, with the applause still ringing in your ears, when your heart stops pounding even louder can you read over the rest of the poems of the evening, here on your computer. Enjoy!



 May & June, 2007

by Chris Marello

 Love painted feathers lost on doves.
 Painted rooms painted rooms less lovers painted zoos.
 Piles of leaves drained with wax etched with an axe.
It catches the lighting on the glooms and passes the weather with a filter. 
Let it fly and bring you happy content. 
Tainted hearts fainting parts itís all just a mono groove trip down south.
 All our questions will be answered.
 A seen from a bar entrance blood and a scar.
  Words of friends, then forty pounds come crushing down.
  Lest be friends lets give our gold and watch others take us down. 
Canít say it wasnít fun.  
The lines out side were very concern and perhaps a little executed. 
Oooooooowhite American boy has blood on his face and down his hairy well defined chest. 
The women were eager to help. 
Robert G Sullivan III 

       War is hell or so they say it damages the heart and mind.
        "Be all you can be" was something I didnt find.
       I wanted to be a hero I longed for a gun in my hands.
         Yet when the shots were fired I hid my head in the sand.
       My father too was a man of war he fought for the stars and stripes.
         Then he was shot by a foe his screams heard in the night.
       I wanted to be like my father, I wanted to do my best.
         And I was as I lay there with a bullet in My chest.
       So war is hell all my friends if you never stopped to wonder.
         How I know this is true? I lay here six feet under.    
   Who Are They

    The world stops
    You can hear their cries
    They run as one 
    Eyes like fire 
    They wait for no one.
    Freedom wispers promises
    It spreads across the mountains
    Its thunder is like a heartbeat
    It waits for no one
    They tear them down
    They put fear in their minds
    They kill with guns and starvation
    They wait for no one
    Who are they 
    They are the free spirits they are the ones forgotten.
Joelle Crystal Willsey

Awkward silence
Side by side
Each waiting for the other
To speak the first line

Sit and wait
Both lacking courage
Afraid to say something
They think would discourage

The other against
Being friends
They sit stiff
Unwilling to bend

Each with a wish
Each wanting to know
But both yet afraid
Of what they carry in tow

All it takes is a word
And maybe a smile
To start a something
That might last for a while

A quiet hello
Is a shy beginning
But everyone knows
As friends, weíre winning
Becky Remoy

Families get in your hair
We didn't ask but they are there

A sister who drives us round the bend
A brother who won't make amends
A Father the type we'd never wed
Let alone take to bed

A Mother just  the epitome
Of  the person we'll never be

And here we are that shining star
Wishing every member  was the way we are 
There'd be no hassle, there'd be no fuss If everyone was more like us

You can't change them like currency
When you're  abroad
Or skip them like chapters when you get bored 
You can' t spit them out Coz' you don't like their taste 
Or flush them down toilets like biological waste 
You can't turn them off at the switch of a light 
Or ask for a refund when they don't work right

There IS  no escape.... there is nothing to do 
For families are  an extension of you.

Full Circle 
joan pond

When I hear the peepers
I am reminded of when we moved to the

Dad said I was going to join the 4-H
and someday
I was going to have a horse.

the only horse I ever rode
was at Coney Island.

My dad laughed
because it would not stop
going round and round in circles.

I heard the peepers last night
and remembered my dadís
laughter .

Iím still waiting for that horse.

Aaryn Peterson

Saffron, bronze, mute jade
all rolled over by low rainclouds

Manna from heaven --
the ground is thirsty here

Damp sage fills the air


strands of silk
around my finger
twirling round and round.
strands of brown
caress my palms
turning with no sound.
a lace of highlights,
twisted so
keeps bending up and down.

it's habit-forming
from eight in the morning,
to eight o'clock at night.

my fingers keep whirling,
my hair keeps on twirling
it keeps my hands busy till twilight.
Hands Clapping
Bill Albright

More than one hand is clapping
a heart is happy, hands applaud
I too then will clap a hand
to applaud as well,
silently, with myself.

1999 to 2007
we have been a team
with no direction home
fuelled by innocence
eigth years
12 countries
16 cities
with you in my belly
home never felt far away
life charged me
pieces of my heart
along the way
the biggest piece
i gave to you
its time we say goodbye
my dear friend 

in exchange i took
time gave me
the definition of me
memories to rely on
foundation to build from
stories to amaze
acceptance for what's to come
total trust in life
countless sunrises
its time we say goodbye
my dear friend 

you know i know your good
have to let you go
time for dodo
ill be back
my dear friend
when your lonely
think of me
and how youíre a part of me

francois chalifoux

I watch the clouds pass by in a world of many colors.
A life of many lies and sorrows. 
Its clear to mea that i'm not the person who i use to be.
Full of happiness and rainbows as many people call it, that's who i use to be. 
Now, everything's different dull and unfulfilling. 
That's me now since you went up to the clouds, 
as i stay left behind in a world of many colors.

writing everywhere on the walls beer bottles everywhere standing tall the father looks at the child and soon doesn't care about any lies then with a smack he begins to attack the the mother takes a look then a smack across the little boys face the little boy crying with all his might the little boy died that night without blowing his candles out. the parents didn't get away but to this day the cries sill remain in their heads, now the little boy lies in a shady part of the grass never to be bothered or physically harassed.



Crystal Martinuk

The little man lives under my bed
Peeking out from oblivion to give me a fright 
He'll bit my toes, he'll eat my feet 
Mommy please don't turn out the light

The boogie man lives in my closet
Just awaiting his moment to strike
He'll drag me off to his universe
Daddy please don't leave tonight

The monsters and ghosts are everywhere in here 
The windows to my deepest soul 
Mommy,daddy don't close the door I want to wake up hole

I sit in fetal position
The monsters and ghost swarm near
Mommy and daddy left me again
So all I have left is fear

Alicia Adzima

I can fall apart; I can regain life with the sun. I can hurt people with my thorns. I have lots of different layers. I can be old, brittle, or even falling apart, new, gorgeous, I can be red with love, purple and full of loyalty. I can open up with time, but for most of the time I am used for happiness!

The Forgotten
Ruth Walters

I buried you years ago
consciously interring
every painful thought
beneath the earth.

I got on with life
hell bent to forget you
letting the walls of time
grow wide and tall.

Then some jerk
disturbed the grave.
Oh what folly
he did make.

Now you have arisen
and all my ogres too
What am I to do?
Damn those memories of school!
The Boys of Lough.
Terry Collett

Over the hills of Lough,
The boys go now
With their pockets 

Full of promises;
And their heels kicking
The dust from their feet, 

Like fathers pushing away
The years shown in their greying hair. 
Listen. The voices carry. 

The boys have shouldered
The labours of centuries;
And now over the hills of Lough 

They go now,
With their caps
On their heads 

And over the brow;
Leaving the girls
To their maidenhood

And the old men
Who once climbed
The hills, but soon

Came back again.

Brilliance of Nature
By:Umair Hussain

Nature is brilliance in all its forms
whether it's the deserts' heat
or the lion's roar
whether its the flamingo's feet
or the apple's core
whether its our beautiful teeth
or our tiny pores
Nature is brilliance in all its forms

She is small, real small
but the way she looks at me
makes me small

For a little one she judges well
she knows the things that I know
but can't tell

For once I want to be undone
maybe by her, maybe not
could be by anyone

she is my baby, my little treasure
the reason I am still here
why then do I struggle for pleasure

She knows, its in her blood
she is cut from the same cloth
her daddy is a dud.

peter hart
Bill Albright

The hooks must be barbless
  No bait other than yarn and feathers
Metal disdained by those
  With feathers and yarn, flies
An elite of the fisher folk
  Seeking to duplicate a hatch
Emergers, stoneflies, all
  Who live minutes of life
As food, bait in a cycle of life
  A glimpse seen as we drift by
Eager to impale a first fish,
  Many, lots upon the
Barbless hooks, shaper
  Than our wits this day
Drifting the Lower Sacramento
  During a Spring rain, feeling
As wet as the trout we pursue
  Destined to be returned, if caught
Guaranteed to be released
  Unlike us who feel similarly
Only when drifting that
  Lower Sacramento. 

Francesca Johnson

Heading towards the light
The light is running from me.
I run faster and faster yet I cannot get closer.

My heart needs the light.
The light will want me.
I am sure of this!

I have never been so near, until now.
I can smell the warmth and flowers, so sweet!
Yet the wind down the tunnel is pushing me back.

I fight harder and harder never making progress.
More and more distract me from my mission.
Will I ever reach this damn light?




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.