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To define you

It is not possible
toe define you.

My imagination fail
My independency deteriorated
while trying to go somewhere.

Nothing is easier
nothing to relaxed.

The moonlit still
filtering glow.
River Ganga overflow.
Partition suit dismissed.

I am the heir of
social tension only.
And I am failed to
draw any scenes
perfectly to putforth.

[...] Read more

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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A Poet Of Your Caliber

oh, i very well agree
as you believe it yourself
behaving like a god
of the air and the sea
once the king of the
clouds and the rain
once the prince of
the hills and mountains
the only rightful heir
to the flowers and bees

i very well agree sir
oh holy one oh mighty one

a poet of your caliber
need not write
another poem for
the tiny tadpoles swimming
on a very small pond.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kim

Unto whose use the pregnant suns are poised,
With idiot moons and stars retracting stars?
Creep thou between -- thy coming's all unnoised.
Heaven hath her high, as Earth her baser, wars.
Heir to these tumults, this affright, that fray
(By Adam's, fathers', own, sin bound alway);
Peer up, draw out thy horoscope and say
Which planet mends thy threadbare fate, or mars.

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Thunder In The Movies

Hollywood has lost the creative plot
mere remnant left of magical golden era
Hollywood sellout ideal is boom bang bang
little remains of famed flickering silver screen

Bollywood is usurper true heir to former status
perhaps tropical thunderous rain is tribute paid
Bollywood movies instill valid themes awe inspiring
original awesome recipe defining famed Hollywood era

poem by Terence George Craddock
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I Am My Father's Son

I am my father's son
fruit of his loins
morning of many a night
an end to his travails
in his eyes I am made;
the mirror of an unlived adventure
son of a sun
emblem of generations past

I am my father's son
strength of his grey hair
his joy at sunset
the memoirs of a lost youth

my father is a king
needing no crown or regalia
that makes me an heir
to the throne of meekness

poem by Samuel Obono Jr
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Milton challenges you all poets

Mentor Milton is gone
His heir is on
Today let you all know
The power of Milton reigns in me
For you should all hide your pen
I challenge you all
My poetry is the door to our century
I challenge you all
Am Oba king of poet
For who shall challenge
All poets are fools
Nay, the world is new
Respond my summon if truly you are great
Ignore, believing i am great
I challenge you all fools

poem by True Love
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Spies, spice!

Spies, spice!
Had, heir, here, harm, ham, hymn, hard, hade;
And like the best thing that i ever had from you,
But, give this letter to your friend.

Hard, hand, hang, hare, hear, hate, him, hide, heed!
But, keep it clean;
And, keep on moving, up forward! !
In unity as one flesh.

Feelings,
Selection,
In the name of love!
He, her, his, hip, harp, help, heard, hymen;
And like one's flesh.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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One Small Ailment

ONE SMALL AILMENT

One small ailment is enough to destroy a mood and spoil a life’s good feeling-
One irritation can kill the soul-
Bodily beings holy as we are
We cannot endure the itch, the ague, the pain, the plague, the aching wound, the ‘thousand natural shocks flesh is heir to’

‘To scratch or not to scratch’ becomes the question-
Our pretensions mocked by our own small hurts.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Seeking for your Shore (1974)

Northern men of ice and story:
Lay your shadows by the sand
Our mouths have closed for want of kisses
And now deny what you began

Southern men of moon and music:
Weave us sandals from the grass
Our skins have tightened since the summer
Too dry to breath in nature’s dance

Heir to the histories of your loving
I guess no culture holds a cure
For the free and landless alcoholics
Ever seeking for your shore.

poem by Frank Bana
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The Vacant Lot

Mrs. Coley’s three-flat brick
Isn’t here any more.
All done with seeing her fat little form
Burst out of the basement door;
And with seeing her African son-in-law
(Rightful heir to the throne)
With his great white strong cold squares of teeth
And his little eyes of stone;
And with seeing the squat fat daughter
Letting in the men
When majesty has gone for the day—
And letting them out again.

poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
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