New York poet Joe Tessitore challenges poets to begin a poem with these words:
Post your poem in the comments section below. (Poems should be metered.)
. Allentown Nights Sometimes the nights were full of evil there. Relentless searchers drove the block most nights, While novices...
Today Awake, and do not fade away into your gloom—and stay within your room. Instead, without delay, compel yourself...
Thank you, everyone, for the kind words and for taking the time to read and share your thoughts on my…
Yes, that was deliberate. War is war, and regardless of its cause, people still have to live through it. I…
Thank you, Brian! I can certainly see your point about the length. I originally planned for only six perspectives, but…
Thank you so much, Jan. I find that the valleys truly teach us so much, even when I’m less than…
Thank you, Bhikku Nyanasobhano, for the encouragement in my small imitation of Saint Francis. His song, often called in English…
freedom for all
written in pen
signed by the blood
of millions of men
skirts long
modesty longer
any accusations
under the water
a level field
but tilted to play
to pick up the dice
sign your rights away
fairness for all
no less or no more
but everything’s equal
if no one’s keeping score
My country used to be a quiet song,
a flute in neem shade, a thread of rain,
a grain of salt held on the tongue,
a name whispered and carried across time.
It lived in the dust of the Thar,
in scrolls opened with care,
in camel bells swinging
beneath a saffron dusk.
It asked for little—
a corner for prayer,
a sentence that meant what it said,
a hand not clenched but open.
Now the noise thickens the air.
The loudest word wins.
The softest truths are forgotten.
Still I walk beneath her brightened skies,
and breathe the dust—
Satyam eva jayate.