Best Poetry Online

The Wife – A Poem by Richard Kalfus

February 22, 2023 - Leave a Comment

The two of us, my co-worker and I
busy at our computers.

John took out his cell.
“Have to call THE wife, won’t take long.”
“What? “You want to call THE wife?
My surprise meant nothing to him.
At 59, he was very much “old school.”
Was he or I the fool?

My young wife had she been there,
She would have told John calmly
that using the word, THE, today,
was indeed rare,
and pejorative.

It lowered her to a “possession.”—
an object “his” property.

John was baffled,” but, but,
I love my wife…
She is my whole life.

My own wife, having recently
returned from the “Women’s March”
could have explained it all.

Would John have understood?

A Creative Explosion – A Poem by Paul Tristram

February 22, 2023 - Leave a Comment

The smell of freshly sharpened pencils
upon her slender, stained fingertips.
The taste of daisies and forget-me-nots
upon her pursed, concentrating lips.
She shudders, as her imagination
runs rampant up the throat of her soul
and bursts colourfully out of her mind
through wide, dazzling eyes.
Attacking the workbench with majestic arcs,
finger whips and thumbprint smudges.
Water is easy… it’s trickling the depth
whilst retaining the veneer that counts.
Fog… still has to be focused.
Trees… firework up out of the ground.
Hills roll or are monument.
The shadows… alive
or merely dormant, wasted spaces.
To trap ‘Energy’ within a single teardrop.
To mirror a ‘Love Sonnet’ upon the reflection
of a mischievous, half-scowling raven’s eye.
To creatively EXPLODE from the roots of the heart…
out onto the page or canvas,
is the very difference between mere pictures and Art.

More at https://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.

Lost Boy – A Poem by Roy Pullam

February 22, 2023 - Leave a Comment

The machine hummed
Forcing the air
In his tired lungs
I looked at him
The mask
Covering his face
His eyes closed tightly
The constant beep
Reminding me
He did not breathe
On his own
This was my brother
My childhood friend
And often my rival
As we competed
For every advantage
As I alternately
Fought and championed him
Drawing a family circle
Around him
Even when the circle
Became a ring
He was my blood
The child of my parents
They’re gone now
My heart to break
Without their succor
Hope faded
That all intercession
Had failed
That the end
Would come
With the turn
Of a switch
And there was nothing
I could do
But let him go

The Mountain Biker in the Rain – A Poem by Gareth Culshaw

February 22, 2023 - Leave a Comment

I watched him spin
the rain back to the clouds.
The front of his cap
hid his life face.

A mobile phone took
hold of his hand.
He carried his hat
up and down the road.

The rain lashed down
but he didn’t care.
All he thought about
was the doobie

that waited to be swapped
with the moolah
that was folded in his pocket.

I watched from a bus stop
listening to the rain break
itself up, while he waited

to fix it back up.

More at http://www.gculshaw.co.uk.

Eighth Avenue – A Poem by Philip Lawrence

February 21, 2023 - Leave a Comment

Five-thirty p.m., 1985,
A crowded bus.
The passengers generate heat as
The men stand round-shouldered
Reading newspapers, and we all
Sway to the rhythm of the city traffic.
I scan the rows for an empty seat and
I angle past the others, ignoring all,
Except for one.
He stoops under a worn gray hat,
An overcoat overwhelms his slight body
And his dark eyes glance from row to row
With urgency as the bus halts.
A seat opens and the little man
Moves toward the vacancy.
I am closer, and I will have it before him.
The man grips the overhead bar for balance.
He is short and his coat sleeve slides
To his elbow and faded blue numbers
Appear on his forearm.
They are clear enough.
I stand motionless as he slides by me.
There is room for him to pass, but
He steps sideways.
He does not look up.
He says nothing.

Magic In the Darkness – A Poem by Roy Pullam

February 21, 2023 - Leave a Comment

The lights dim
The darkness welcomes
The flicker
On the screen
I sit on the edge
Of my seat
The anticipation
Like the small boy
Who cherished the hours
In the old Lido
Still mesmerized
By the stories
On the silver wall
No longer Gene Autry
Good and evil
Simple as the black and white
Hats the actors wore
Telegraphing their moral code
The challenge more taxing
Now the plot
More involved
Challenging me to dig
To find my own truths
In the dialogue
The strength and weaknesses
Of the character
their imperfection more apparent
Making it hard
To label heroes and villains
When the movie ends
And the house lights
Come up
I like to carry
From the theater
Questions to discuss
And to debate
With friends
Who share the experience
Like voyeurs
Who peeped
In the director’s window

Daytime TV – A Poem by J.K. Durick

February 21, 2023 - Leave a Comment

Time, spent like this, doesn’t weigh heavily, weighs
almost nothing at all, fills in, fills up, follows a set
schedule, offers some diversion, endless game shows,
some cooking, and home improvement, reruns of
reruns, comedies we know well enough to recall
the lines and old police shows smacking of relevance
from ten, twenty years ago; we’ve come to this after
the years we were too busy to even know that this
exists, this world of filler, what some of us do all day
while the rest are away, it’s like a waiting room for
those of us waiting for time to pass, the day to end
it explains us, begins to define us, the lost, the ghosts
the shadows of our former selves, it knows us well
replaces friends and family and conversation, fills
in the silence that so easily grows all around us now.

Reflections on a Snowy Evening – A Poem by Roy Pullam

February 21, 2023 - Leave a Comment

I stood with Robert
In the woods
In the stillness and the chill
Of the time stopped
To reflect
On my destination
Where I would go
What I would see
And how deep
The snows ahead
Were for me
Still a mystery
But there was
A clarity in the air
The time to pause
So needed
But I could not stay
Even with the cold logic
Mine was to forge ahead
There was only
So much time left
And I had to be
Where I was suppose to be
Like the horse
And the sleigh
My life has a mission
With a slush-covered path
That leads me finally
To my home

White Oak – A Poem by Roy Pullam

February 21, 2023 - Leave a Comment

The country road
Ends at the graveyard
In the shadow
Of a white church
The steeple
Shows
Proof of its age
Peeling skin
Hanging
From the boards
Directly below the cross
Sections of old and new
Burials
Surround the building
Its expanded residency
Greater than Memorial Days
Of my youth
Names I recognize
Neighbors and friends
Reaching their ends
Stones bearing their names
Remind me
Of who they were
I can still hear
Some of their voices
Hear their laughter
As we shared jokes
My father’s grave
Amid the other granite
Heralds
That he came
With the dawn
Of the twentieth century
How he regaled me
With advents
In his time
Cars, planes and space craft
Rushing into his years
Since his birth
The marvelous adventure
With the awe
Never ceasing
As his life
Evolved from horse and buggy
To a modern world
Never jaded
He approached life
With wonder
Advocating
That I never
Close my eyes
To the ever-changing world
How I wonder
What amazement
He would find
In the nearly 40 years
Since his death?
My mother
As always
By his side
Her voice smaller
Accepting her role
As she did
When her father
Took her from the school
She so loved
Hers was to be a wife
To sublimate her ambition
To her husband
To put her 6th grade education
Aside
Folding it as past
As accepting
As the fate
Of the rag doll
She had carried
Earlier in her childhood
She never complained
Accepting her role
With so much
She wanted
Undone
I walked away
Heavy in thought
Aware
That others
Will read my dates
But will they appreciate
What came
In between?
Will anyone care
Enough
To remember my name
To learn my story
To see me as a person
Who lived
Who loved
Who had a part
No matter how small
In the time
Before them?