It takes a brave heart to know poetry or be a poet. While the realists may proclaim that poetry is an escape, a refuge from the harsh truths of life, it cannot be so. A poet is a warrior and a magician who has the power to confront his worst demons and cast them out into the world dressed in naked pain, honesty and the cadence of words. And he is a dreamer and a wisher! Poetry is the answer to the silent whispering of your heart and all that can be felt, but not seen, finds its way into the world of Poets. From the golden blaze of the morning sun to the rosy hues of the evening and everything in between, that, which is called life, all of it is Poetry. One only needs to pause in the endless race of life, still the heart, tune into the world around and a poem will be created. A poet can paint pictures in words, out of the diaphanous, ephemeral clouds of thoughts, that the rest of the world struggles to concretize into comprehensible shape.
We are proud and gratified to be able to provide a platform for almost 5000 such poets who have helped us create a repository of more than 10,000 such original poems over a short span of two years. We started out with just our hopes and dreams and you, dear poets, have made Charles Bukowski’s words come true for us “Poetry is what happens when nothing else can.”
Thank you and here’s wishing you a Wonderful World Poetry Day!
The beauty of it all. Pulling something from nothing. Nurturing the created. Molding it shaping it. The song the art the science. All teased from the ether. All born into existence by consciousness. Without consciousness, there would be nothing.
It gathers, always been here. Waiting within. Pushing to control. Finding a home in some. Fighting those it can’t control. Weakness, exploits, control, power. Power/technology enough now to control the world. Insidious it hides it waits for global domination.
lower abdominal area gurgles and balloons gastrointestinal tract vis a vis flatulence croons in tandem and/or subsequent expulsion eliminates fecal waste witnessing sprinting to bathroom, this scribe (against time) and jet propulsion of sphincter muscles’ spasmodic desperately raced unpleasant symptom
Look, listen, learn. What’s going on? Writhing existence. Organic world mixing coalescing on all levels. Civilization, humanity, genetic confusion. The experiment turned on. Seer watching no interference but wondering. We but unwitting participants. Endgame Unknown. Writhing, coalescing genetic blob growing,