Poems About Ai Ogwaga Seeking Honest Critique
#AiOgwaga
summultima
uma
uma
Poem Published
1st Nov 2020 9:46am
1st Nov 2020 9:46am
The Dawn
now that you are gone…
..may I for once unfossiliferously
rewind unto those dungeons of
doggoned hollows
... all that has but sacrilegiously been
the lifeline currency coinage that you count
upon dearly in its clattering ~ clink clank
corroboree of haphazard(ous) materialistic
maniacal gluttonies until endless nights those
never ripens to the dawns of a simple touch...
if not to the core of l o v e, awaiting in gracious
bridal vain to be at the least gazed...
..may I for once unfossiliferously
rewind unto those dungeons of
doggoned hollows
... all that has but sacrilegiously been
the lifeline currency coinage that you count
upon dearly in its clattering ~ clink clank
corroboree of haphazard(ous) materialistic
maniacal gluttonies until endless nights those
never ripens to the dawns of a simple touch...
if not to the core of l o v e, awaiting in gracious
bridal vain to be at the least gazed...
#love
#hope
#memories
#freedom
#AiOgwaga
752 reads
6 Comments
nomoth
Poem Published
29th Oct 2020 8:31pm
29th Oct 2020 8:31pm
The view of a deserted island
I awoke with a start—
a dozen or so people were peering down
at me in a very curious way.
The last thing I recalled
was talking into my dictaphone,
repeating my conversation with a shopkeeper.
As I lie there, slowly looking up
at an old man, I tried to ask
what happened ; but only a weeping,
stumbling cry escaped his mouth.
I wanted to recall the last words
I had spoken into the dicataphone;
but, all I remembered were words
spoken by the shopkeeper:
"...unadulterated by anything but silence and its directions"....
a dozen or so people were peering down
at me in a very curious way.
The last thing I recalled
was talking into my dictaphone,
repeating my conversation with a shopkeeper.
As I lie there, slowly looking up
at an old man, I tried to ask
what happened ; but only a weeping,
stumbling cry escaped his mouth.
I wanted to recall the last words
I had spoken into the dicataphone;
but, all I remembered were words
spoken by the shopkeeper:
"...unadulterated by anything but silence and its directions"....
#strength
#violence
#war #AiOgwaga
#war #AiOgwaga
432 reads
8 Comments
Calamityofgin
Poem Published
28th Oct 2020 4:12pm
28th Oct 2020 4:12pm
My Rocking Chair
It is empty in this chair
As I sit and lean back into a space
I am destined to fall into
Arms wide
A look of shock dropping my chin
Into a chest you once crossed with your fingertips
In such a way
My nipples formed perfect candied peaks
The thought of your mouth there,
Sets me to rocking
Oblivion awaits to swoop me up...
Cold hard facts
And points like diamonds
The sky once scattered in them
And they shone in my eyes so
They scorched
And blinded
“Why do you wear that...
As I sit and lean back into a space
I am destined to fall into
Arms wide
A look of shock dropping my chin
Into a chest you once crossed with your fingertips
In such a way
My nipples formed perfect candied peaks
The thought of your mouth there,
Sets me to rocking
Oblivion awaits to swoop me up...
Cold hard facts
And points like diamonds
The sky once scattered in them
And they shone in my eyes so
They scorched
And blinded
“Why do you wear that...
#AiOgwaga
465 reads
3 Comments
slipalong
Poem Published
25th Oct 2020 6:29pm
25th Oct 2020 6:29pm
Salome
White waterlilies, the pale beauty
decapitated, the heads seemed detached from stem
hovering, floating like childhood wishes
and in reality; the darkness of the pond.
Anchoring the self, in wonderment.
Mothers words, my life's book of commands
a woman's adolescent need, to be put to the sword
hot kisses dreamed, the rapid percussion
hard an stiff like starch, lay open the impenetrable fort.
Familiar tune, the record scratched and worn
the dog that sits beside the horn; obedient in need
Bitten, taut...
decapitated, the heads seemed detached from stem
hovering, floating like childhood wishes
and in reality; the darkness of the pond.
Anchoring the self, in wonderment.
Mothers words, my life's book of commands
a woman's adolescent need, to be put to the sword
hot kisses dreamed, the rapid percussion
hard an stiff like starch, lay open the impenetrable fort.
Familiar tune, the record scratched and worn
the dog that sits beside the horn; obedient in need
Bitten, taut...
#heartbroken
#SelfDiscovery
#AiOgwaga
503 reads
6 Comments
Valeriyabeyond
Dhyana
Dhyana
Poem Published
25th Oct 2020 1:24am
25th Oct 2020 1:24am
The Passage Contains Shadows
Time stands to pause,
from the everyday,
the too familiar,
the knowing, of one's heartbeat.
Consistent shadows,
in their progression,
pass through Cottonwoods,
that urge me on,
to sit on this bus bench,
where paint peels,
into curls, off old pine boards.
Some remain with me, catching on spiders web, others dance
with the breeze
that takes them
to land in a heap nearby.
Silver- blue Greyhound glides by, on her way,
(without question)
to where,...
from the everyday,
the too familiar,
the knowing, of one's heartbeat.
Consistent shadows,
in their progression,
pass through Cottonwoods,
that urge me on,
to sit on this bus bench,
where paint peels,
into curls, off old pine boards.
Some remain with me, catching on spiders web, others dance
with the breeze
that takes them
to land in a heap nearby.
Silver- blue Greyhound glides by, on her way,
(without question)
to where,...
#LifeCycle
#AiOgwaga
499 reads
20 Comments
Sex_on_the_Joe
Joe-D
Joe-D
Poem Published
20th Oct 2020 5:00pm
20th Oct 2020 5:00pm
2 hrs. of Peace
The house is in disarray
Drawn to life in a trail
Her toys and stuffed animals lay
All lifeless and war-torn
Memories of a 3yr old’s tale
Her bowl lays -bruised and battered
A washed-up waterfall
Full of victims of the war
Those brave enough to float
In her oval ringed lake
Quietness brakes my train
All is still all is quiet
I hear the minutes tick by
Those precious anniversary
Moments
That tumbleweed through my day
The house is mine
Drawn to life in a trail
Her toys and stuffed animals lay
All lifeless and war-torn
Memories of a 3yr old’s tale
Her bowl lays -bruised and battered
A washed-up waterfall
Full of victims of the war
Those brave enough to float
In her oval ringed lake
Quietness brakes my train
All is still all is quiet
I hear the minutes tick by
Those precious anniversary
Moments
That tumbleweed through my day
The house is mine
#happiness
#hope
#gratitude
#emotions
#AiOgwaga
18 reads
7 Comments
anvinvil
Anvillan
Anvillan
Poem Published
16th Oct 2020 5:23am
16th Oct 2020 5:23am
Cuba-1962x
I am awakened at dawn
by the suns warmth
on my face
My night was restless
and the need for my partner
grips my being
and my soul
I reach out but the empty
bed tells me that her work
ethic has overwhelmed her
She preceded me
to the cane field
cutting it low for max return
I rise, grab my tools
and go to the field
I find the body lying face down
in the stumps of cane
I cut what remains
my loses minimized
I bring the body
with the cane
Will the market ever feel
the sorrow or pain ...
by the suns warmth
on my face
My night was restless
and the need for my partner
grips my being
and my soul
I reach out but the empty
bed tells me that her work
ethic has overwhelmed her
She preceded me
to the cane field
cutting it low for max return
I rise, grab my tools
and go to the field
I find the body lying face down
in the stumps of cane
I cut what remains
my loses minimized
I bring the body
with the cane
Will the market ever feel
the sorrow or pain ...
#AiOgwaga
377 reads
0 Comments
anvinvil
Anvillan
Anvillan
Poem Published
16th Oct 2020 5:14am
16th Oct 2020 5:14am
Grandfather-says1
He calls it the “big girl game”
He takes his hand
and puts it down “there”.
We are in the shed
behind the house.
No one knows we are there.
As he moves his hand
I feel a strange sensation
like I’ve never felt before.
I sense it’s wrong
but it feels so good
so I go with it.
I’m carried to a height
that is weird in a
wonderful sort of way.
Mother asked where I’d been?
I said in the shed
playing with grandpa.
She forbade me to go to the shed.
I never went back
but the memory...
He takes his hand
and puts it down “there”.
We are in the shed
behind the house.
No one knows we are there.
As he moves his hand
I feel a strange sensation
like I’ve never felt before.
I sense it’s wrong
but it feels so good
so I go with it.
I’m carried to a height
that is weird in a
wonderful sort of way.
Mother asked where I’d been?
I said in the shed
playing with grandpa.
She forbade me to go to the shed.
I never went back
but the memory...
#AiOgwaga
446 reads
0 Comments
wallyroo92
Poem Published
9th Oct 2020 8:26pm
9th Oct 2020 8:26pm
Eight-Year-Old Boy
I still remember that warm summer night,
The humidity doesn’t let you sleep,
Quick two-minute showers help but
Before you know it, you’re sweating again.
Drinking water also works
But getting up in the middle of the night
To use the bathroom,
For an eight-year-old boy, it’s scary.
The roof laminates are thin,
And when it rains it’s really loud,
You can hear everything through the house,
On quiet nights you can hear cats,
And sometimes even a mouse.
One particular night,
I got up to use the bathroom,
But before I...
The humidity doesn’t let you sleep,
Quick two-minute showers help but
Before you know it, you’re sweating again.
Drinking water also works
But getting up in the middle of the night
To use the bathroom,
For an eight-year-old boy, it’s scary.
The roof laminates are thin,
And when it rains it’s really loud,
You can hear everything through the house,
On quiet nights you can hear cats,
And sometimes even a mouse.
One particular night,
I got up to use the bathroom,
But before I...
#children
#Halloween
#scary
#memories
#AiOgwaga
439 reads
12 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
8th Oct 2020 11:30pm
8th Oct 2020 11:30pm
Midheaven
( After Ai Ogawa )
I could hear you, breathing
around the next curve;
I followed, toward the turret—
its spiraled throat carved out
to swallow my steady ascension
until I was nothing
but an insect, s p i n n i n g
without one of its wings—
clockwise. . . upward;
each turn identical—
stone-walled scenery
around a columned spine
of ribbed-steps
until I reached its ingress.
...
I could hear you, breathing
around the next curve;
I followed, toward the turret—
its spiraled throat carved out
to swallow my steady ascension
until I was nothing
but an insect, s p i n n i n g
without one of its wings—
clockwise. . . upward;
each turn identical—
stone-walled scenery
around a columned spine
of ribbed-steps
until I reached its ingress.
...
#death
#spiritual
#LifeCycle #AiOgwaga
#LifeCycle #AiOgwaga
709 reads
24 Comments
slipalong
Poem Published
8th Oct 2020 9:42pm
8th Oct 2020 9:42pm
Lawman off the record
Just a domestic, crackling on the radio
I yawn and put the siren on, sweeping towards the scene
a short - or a long---
The quiet comes with each We-waw
dedication, concentration, sometimes defibrillation
fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking always frustrations
lastly punctuation; sometimes //// a knife attack
>< lesser or greater the car bumpers smack
will I round up a suspect ? ask the right questions ?
The Lone Ranger and my bronco Tonto *
put down my bias be = to all
sometimes (enclose), custody not judgment
#tag as I search for weed ...
I yawn and put the siren on, sweeping towards the scene
a short - or a long---
The quiet comes with each We-waw
dedication, concentration, sometimes defibrillation
fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking always frustrations
lastly punctuation; sometimes //// a knife attack
>< lesser or greater the car bumpers smack
will I round up a suspect ? ask the right questions ?
The Lone Ranger and my bronco Tonto *
put down my bias be = to all
sometimes (enclose), custody not judgment
#tag as I search for weed ...
#SelfReflection
#AiOgwaga
270 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Ai Ogwaga Seeking Honest Critique
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#AiOgwaga is curated by Ahavati (Tams).
