Old | Jurg Friedli

You’ve lied to me, lied to me lied to me I quit my job, sold my house moved to another state, left my family. You’ve lied to me: lied to me: lied to me: your embrace a trick to steal from me, your kiss as faithful as a warming winter, your smile a rictus mocking,…

You own my lust How does it feel ? On this side of the fence There’s rumblings Throbbing in the summer night Wistfully longing You own me Take good care of me I don’t break easily But when I do, I break hard Xxx The post Wistfully Longing | G. S. Katz appeared first on…

It’s universal just like hate We’re plagued with what is right Versus what is wrong Media tells us; What to believe Yet what is love? It’s a complex mystery. We need more love Less hate. The post Love | Chris Byrne appeared first on Best Poetry. Go to Source Author: Best Poetry Online

Up upon his city perch, nestled in obsidian dark. His keen eye’s never-ending search, until it meets it’s mark. Dispensing empty shells into the restless night. Never wavered with the rain. The thrill of will’s first flight. His conviction far extends his frame, his hunger never waiting. Peering through forsaken sky, aloft tenuous debating. His…

Henrietta Goodman’s book Antilla takes its title from a phantom island that appeared on 15th century maps. The lush poems in Antilla (The Backwaters Press) continually question what is here and what isn’t, through ghostly presences. In “What Are We Going to Turn Into?” Goodman even refers to her son as pop culture’s friendly ghost…

The more time you spend with a really great woman who is funny, intelligent, and absolutely drop dead gorgeous, and who makes you feel really good about yourself, happy, and content, the more difficult it becomes to write the usual fare of dark, brooding, apocalyptic, existential poetry, and the more likely it becomes that the…