Abnette Kaffl
This is the poem that says all you need to hear
in the tight yet open air
that puts you at rest
because it speaks what you choose to neglect
because your to caught up worrying about Fred, Ted and Big Red
And when you are contempt
you close your eye's and let it take you to cloud nine
where you feel as light as a feather and surly it's getting better and better
This is the poem that requires you to listen
On this day
in this room
at this time
so let it be like air and just take it in.
This is the poem that brings me closer to you
in the ocean where the people are few
that silence rings from east to west
because surly their souls are at rest
because we were all put to the test
And when I fear that I will join them too
I know that I can always look to you
This is the poem that will bring us together
where the fish are many and like our love
they swim endlessly
This is the poem that entices
In the comfort of your home
That hints of things beyond the walls where we reside
Because it is easy to forgot about outside
Because the walls are in the way
And when the fear the walls are becoming too small comes
Spilling over into restlessness, coming from a cage
This is the poem that entices
For you to step outside
This is the poem that laughs
In the darkest part of the night
That goes where most fear
Because the laughter drives the fear away
Because even the fear is afraid of something
And when the laughter finally overwhelms the fear
releasing the torrent of apprehension
This the poem that laughs
Keeping the dark and fear separate
Cory Haskell
MATTHEW VALERIOTE
This is the poem that writes itself
In the unbound pages of half-lucid consciousness,
That wriggles its way into the light of day
Because you, the dreamer do not dwell on such things,
Because to do so would drag you out of your sanctuary in the mundane.
And when you are huddled secure in dank refuge
Assured that this safety you have is what's best,
This is the poem that illuminates everything,
Beckoning from outside to be joined,
Rising in the East seeking not blessing but acceptance.
This is the poem that seems to fall short
In the place in my head where all the doubts lie
That tells me to stop and quit kidding myself
Because writing is for those who know how to write
Because all the true writers are leagues beyond me.
And when the uncertainty holds me down
The frustration is enough to drive me insane;
This is the poem that shows my unconfidence
Which for all that I push it pushes back even harder
And I become Giles Corey, and the poem the village.
Kathryn Chun
Poem #1
This is the poem that is smoked like a cigarette
On the rainiest of days out on a wet porch
That ensnares you and holds you for good
No matter the pleasure or cancerous growth
Because it burns in you slowly
Because it marks your body from the inside out
And when you feel ready to break free
As though you belong everywhere and you shouldn’t stand still
This is the poem that was your addiction
That was the stressful excitement festering in your body
That was your identity long ago that made you follow regulations-that took you out on your porch to enjoy it, to hate it, to let it have you until it was finished.
Poem #2
This is the poem that acts like celestial mass
In your brain as it all comes together
That crushes into a single point of meaning
Because of all the years and schooling
Because of all the falls and dances
And when you feel drained and languid
Like you never want to walk or sing again
This is the poem that reminds you
How your blood circulates, how your laughter is
When you’ve got it all together and the universe shines
KATY RYAN
This is the poem that cheers you uP
In the times that you are lost
That puts a smile on your face
Because you are too pretty to cry
Because life is too important to waste being sad
And when you think it can’t get any worse
And the world is falling apart faster than you can salvage the pieces
This is the poem that lifts you out of emptiness
Out of that place that is numb to love and warmth and happiness
Like being blind at the bottom of the ocean.
This is the poem that wakes me up
When I am heading down the wrong path
That slaps me back into awareness and sensibility
Because sometimes I need guidance
Because I am not perfect
And when I start to fall
And I have wandered from my true self
This is the poem that reminds me who I am
That opens my eyes and defines my mistakes
And the cleanliness that follows is overwhelmingly satisfying
A new path is revealed
-Katy Ryan
IMAN HABEL
This is the poem that breathes
in the depths of waters that engulf itself on the north of Somalia, South of Yemen
that mystifies
because of its strength of rise
because of its courage of fall
and when its sadness deepens
water flows into the depths of vigor, the vigor crumbles and tears fall
this is the poem that scents
the waters of danger, the waters of mystery
the waters that prey like the king of the jungle
This is the poem that speaks
in the palaces made of gold and diamond
that silences
because it utters for the oppressed
because it sounds for the silenced
and when hope enfolds
each heart tenders with tenderness
this is the poem pleads
the palaces of extravagance, palaces of havoc
palaces that destroy all encompassing like imperialism upon the mother land
CLAIRE DURLING
Poem #1:
This is the poem that weeps, in the world full of tearful yet
beautiful wasteland, that teaches a longing, because it lives, because
it breathes.
And when happiness lives, like a childhood full of wonderful memories,
this is the poem that weeps, like a day thwarted in mourning, or loves
first loss.
Poem#2:
This is the poem that laughs, in the house of endless joy and glee,
that loves to run together, because it can, because it must.
And when sadness emerges , like a gripping and endless sorrow, this is
the poem that laughs, like that wonderful house, perfectly present
like a bright and shining light.
NICOLE WHITMAN
This is the poem that recites poetry
in the darkest of hours
that seeps into and stings the wounds of the world
because the lyrics alone can penetrate such hardened depression
because these are the lyrics comprised of words which make up the universal language
And when the citizens of the universe allow these words to wash over them
relieving them in drowning their troubles
this is the poem that silences their fears
by flinging them off cliffs and catching them when they fall
as tenderly as a mother bird motivating her children to fall until they fly
This is the poem that shoots for the stars
in the minds of the young
that inspires the youth of the world to dream
because it is essential they embrace their innocence now
because it is impossible to evade reality forever
And when they face failure in reaching those stars, frustration ensues
leaving them temporarily hopeless and transforming their starry skies into blank black canvases
this is the poem that paints new stars to reach for
in the hearts of the naïve and the imaginations of the innocent
just as an easel and paint provide an artist with inspiration to create
Hannah Obanni
This is the poem that gives you courage
in the middle of a vast ocean on a blind night.
That ignites your faith when the last ember burns out.
Because you are all alone.
Because you know it has to be done.
And when you abdicate your hope,
defeated and torn apart,
This is the poem that speaks to even the most faint-hearted to step forward,
in front of the deepest, darkest cave,
or the tallest mountain.
This is the poem that triggers your memory
in the attic of your grandmothers house.
That brings back juvenescence memories,
because you found your old baseball glove.
Because you saw the old photograph.
And when you feel stressed
as if life was so much easier way back when.
This is the poem that pulls you up.
In your cubicle at work,
or in your lecture hall at school.
HANNAH TYNDALL
This is the poem that wants to be
In the open expanses of our hearts, minds and souls
That has to be
Because these are the places where things happen
Because no other place is capable of holding such emotion
And when this poem becomes
It will rock the earth and astound all
This is the poem that happens everywhere just as the air surrounds the everything
This is the poem that travels fast
In the blur of time
That is gone in a blink
Because it cannot stay
Because it is out of time
And when this poem finally stops
It will crash and burn in a pile of rubbish
This is the poem that happens in the streets
Like the beat of a car engine or the echoing of voices
RYAN MENDOZA
This is the poem that flutters in the heart
That aches for fulfillment
Before lips touch
Because the fantasy and perfection
Of one’s dreams can
Never be rivaled.
And when disappointment creeps from head to toe
Because the romanticized “love” never happens
And the chill of hope no longer feeds adrenaline,
This is the poem that causes a drop
In the place occasionally reached by sunlight
But never truly noticed till after the descent
That leaves a new man stroking his chin and blushing
Because he unknowingly wandered into adulthood.
And when the recently prickly faced man emerges
From a stage of cracked voices and cratered skin with
An upward smile on the edges of his lips and
New bulge in his wallet,
FRANKEES
SAMAD
this is the poem that grumbles
in the pit of your stomach
that makes you reach for the little debbies
because you want something chocolaty
because you’re a hormonal mess with cravings
And when you feel so satisfied
That you could die with chocolate all over your face
This is the poem that fills you up
In the pit of your stomach
Like a chipmunk fills his cheeks with nuts
This is the poem shines a green light in your eye
In his room
that you so wish to be in
because this screen is just not enough to contain two people
because it’s filled with letters read but not said
and when you feel hope
that this will end in skin on skin
this is the poem that reminds you its another night
in your room
like the empty chatroom you left behind, waiting for your less than three sign
SEAN NEWELL
This is the poem that refuses to sleep in the room
That itches your side with unyielding pulsation
Because its bullies your common sense
Because while you're sleeping, it is instead growing
And when wallowing in its constant expansion
One can only will it to leave
This is the poem that gives it existence
Like a shadow that is searching for the light
This is the poem that feeds on my apathy
In the saliva of anyone who constantly spits crap at me
Because if you ever have felt the opposite of ecstasy
Because if you have then please stand here next to me
And if our deaf tears fall salt-less on blind ears
Then at least I have but one companion in my fear
This is the poem that for nineteen years
Has continued to rot in my brain, aloof
So don't ask me why;
And no, I'm not high;
its just the absence within my truth
KATHERINE STOBIE
: “The Heebeegeebees”
This is the poem that gives me the creeps
In the thick down covers
That keep me safe and warmly snuggled at night
Because the dark is full of mysteries and
Because of all those lost souls who have not yet moved on
Into the abyss of what is after life
And when this fear
Makes me sick to my stomach
This is the poem that reminds me of why
The darkness haunts me at night under my warm blankets
Like a gray cloud of sorrow lingering around me on a piercingly cold day
Poem #2: “
This is the poem that tells me stories
In my peaceful and meditative state of mind
That keeps me centered and focused
Because I need to wind down from the day and
Because of every hassle I need to forget
And when confusion
Ties my brain into knots that cannot be unwound
This is the poem that helps me remember
That when surrounded by those that care about whether or not I live or die
I am like a lost child in a convenience store who has finally found the warm embrace of her mother’s arms
Sam Hatamian
This is the poem that attempts to bandage my bleeding heart
In a hospital with narrow hallways and endless dimly lit corridors
That continues to fail, as the doctor frantically thrusts his sweating hands onto my bare chest
Because rejection is a parasite that sucks the sap out of my flesh
Because the defibrillator’s currents are outmatched by the energy that no longer radiates from my heart.
And when thoughts of her smooth skin and emerald eyes consume my spirit
I wonder if the man she holds can comprehend the value of her bare lips that permeate euphoria
This is the poem that illuminates my demise
In the fertile soil of my body where physical words blossom into powerful waves of emotion
Where the waves drown my willing to persist like a tiny raft sucked into the curl of a Tsunami
This is the poem that will put you at rest
In a warm bed, cradled by your mother who stroking your side
That massages jagged knots until the back is smooth like slightly curving sand dune
Because only when water is still can the composition of the ocean basin be seen
Because only when the mind is still can the makeup of our thoughts be interpreted
And when your head slightly drops and you creep into a state of trance
Your body tingles and numbs as my words penetrate your bloodstream like an administered anesthetic
This is the poem that gently kisses you goodnight
As you lie on a pure white hammock that wraps your body into a cocoon
Until you unravel to take in the breathe of a new day like a butterfly itching for the start of a new life
Matthew Sweeney
Matthew Sweeney
4/5/2010
This is the poem that breathes
and eats and sleeps
and talks and runs
and walks right off the sheet
because when you read this poem, you begin to really kno him
This is the poem that doesn't care
existential, aloof
and in another world
because when this poem was being written, the poet decided it was better of smitten
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