Poetbay.com

أنا لا ...

poet*salem — Sun, 07 Jun 2026 18:07:45 +0100

لاكن أذا كان السبب هو الحب

انا لن اصدق هذا طبعا

لانى اعرف من تكونون

لاكن اذا كان فعلاً السبب هو الحب

فأنكم تستحقون السجن المؤبد

هل تعرفون السبب؟

My, oh my....

Clara Mae Gregory — Sun, 07 Jun 2026 14:34:36 +0100

My, oh my-

My sweet spouse
just gave me the sweetest unique compliment:

He said I was
a "cone 10".....

that's ceramic shop talk for very hot.

Was he talking about

my Irish temperament?

pythoness

one trick pony — Sun, 07 Jun 2026 14:22:20 +0100

with lin and marketa away

i am very much alone

i choose to say alone, not lonely

which is untrue

i am lonely

it is a temporary state

they will return

of course they will return

though nothing is certain

until it happens

my imagination likes to run wild

seek the dark places

they'll be back, they will be back

tell me they'll be back

dear pythia

Good and bad

dee quirke — Sun, 07 Jun 2026 12:42:43 +0100

I believe there is a god out there .but why is he not here
To show us he really cares .
All I see is pain, hurt and damnation in its way
I cry for a better life ,but who seems to care,for a soul who just knows pain in every way
Please someone just take this pain I fear ,knowing the demons are near .
Darkness comes and I think god don't care,I know now the devil has just appeared.........

Lone meteoroid

Artorius — Sun, 07 Jun 2026 12:33:19 +0100

I think a lot about meteoroids
But not about the impact
Though our planet has been wracked
I think about the endless void

Chipped from a larger piece,
Drifting through endless space
Confusing silence with peace
Unwittingly planning to leave a trace

Looking at another star
You feel incomplete
Like a severed scar
Just a rock, enveloped in heat

Because you are on a set path
As scientist tell us our fate
You plan to enact your wrath
And you wonder why we hate.

But is landing on earth
better than that endless void
Who do you believe has more worth?
Tell me your choice, meteoroid

SOL

mickeko — Sun, 07 Jun 2026 10:16:15 +0100

It is cold
let us move closer
I will build
concrete wings
To let us
like Icarus
catch the warmth
of the sun
because
words alone
won't get us close
enough

As Soot & Dust

Ingvar Loco Nordin — Sun, 07 Jun 2026 09:32:24 +0100

What it sounds like

mickeko — Sun, 07 Jun 2026 08:50:00 +0100

a bunny\'s tail

jim — Sun, 07 Jun 2026 03:52:56 +0100

in the beginning there were bunnies

then the bulldozers

took away all the trees of the forest

and all the clover and tall grass in the meadows

the bunnies

had nowhere to hide

nowhere to hide from the coyotes and owls

who ate them up

and didn't bother to spit out the bones

until one day, when the trees and meadows

had grown back

there appeared a bunny

a cottontail named mary lou

mary lou was bold

scorned the tall grass, afraid of nothing

ate her clover in the open spaces

for all the world to see

come moon or come sun

one day there appeared, magically

it seemed

a second bunny, her name was elizabeth

elizabeth was shy, even timid, kept close

to the tall grass

where she could flee at the owl's moonlight shadow

or the coyote's brazen howl, time passed peacefully

mary lou

and elizabeth nibbling clover

not so far from each other, one boldly

the other shyly

one may muse upon fate

or philosophize over right and wrong

or question

the point of existence itself

one may ask—is it better to live boldly

and die young

or shyly, like elizabeth

who kept close to the tall grass

who will surely

be nibbling clover for many seasons to come

as for the bold mary lou, all that remained

was the puff

of her little white cotton tail

the signature

anonface — Sun, 07 Jun 2026 01:17:56 +0100

X Marks The Biome

Kee Zealy — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 22:16:31 +0100

While the letter X
Is singular in its lack of use
X identifies feminine biology
Where clarity is defined
Or obscured with mystery

The unpredictable X
Is a paradoxical identity
Where male interaction
Stumbles feet first
Toes inserted mouth first

X is the unknown variable
In an unsolvable algebraic equation
That an attempt to complete
Always returns twisted scenarios
That invalidates assumptions
That make men assholes without intent

X filled in the check box
Of dozens of open files
Browsed simultaneously
With dozens of parameters
Available for selection

While the algebraic equivalent
Looks for one, an AI model
Subjective non subjective
Complete core dump
With an endless log
It cannot explain
Except with the simple phrase
What the fuck is this?
It is the mysterious letter X

Tongue Twisters

Sameen — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 17:41:17 +0100

Flying Jewels

William Hughes — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 16:43:31 +0100

Joyas Voladoras. They whir, whir like toy helicopters,

spiraling in the summer doldrums, enchanting,

so miniscule, yet they make me seem small.

Some say they hum songs of ancient prayers;

others say they jolt us into doing what needs to be done:

seeking, gathering nectar--whatever that may be.

Jade green, ruby-throated (jewels that fly):

Linger for a spell, that I may hear

what you're saying, what you're singing.

One warm day in early June, you perched

on a fence, inches from my hand--

emeralds and rubies at my fingertips.

A sliver of time captured to carry with me

through what remains of this year.

to store in my treasure-chest

of extraordinary ordinaries.

Reflecting on Biblical Research .

Clara Mae Gregory — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 13:12:05 +0100

Lavetti\'s Lagrange Point

Ingvar Loco Nordin — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 11:29:17 +0100

Air superiority

mickeko — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 09:45:47 +0100

Djinn

mickeko — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 07:14:07 +0100

Thank you
Oh Lord

for having me born
to your magic carpet

lest I fall to hell
for not being born

to your ground
nor proper faith

Bernard Therapie

Albert Vynckier — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 05:13:05 +0100

Bernar Therapie
I don't go to the therapist
the businesses that I buy for a pence and sell
for millions
are my therapy
to win and loose is the game
sometimes I win, sometimes I fail
but with a therapy, all seem to always better
and better
it's a fraud ! because the therapist has to earn
his doughs
so it's difficult to face his patient after
16 years of analysis and say
"you are a moron, you have failed
nevertheless, I can't refund you
I never promised you anything, you have been
responsible for your own judgment "

Bear Hunt

Melinda K Zarate — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 01:56:06 +0100

the baron declares

arquious — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 01:08:03 +0100

"the baron's declaration"

The celebrated Munchhausen
announced to the town council
that he had recently returned
from a perilous expedition
across the vast expanse
between the windowsill
and the fruit bowl.

He described the journey
as “gruelling,”
citing unpredictable terrain
(a crumpled napkin),
hostile wildlife
(a mildly curious sparrow),
and the treacherous crossing
of the Great Ceramic Plateau
(a strewn dinner plate).

He concluded his report
by presenting a souvenir:
a raisin he claimed
to have wrestled
into submission.

The council recorded his statement
with the same patience
they reserve for all his dispatches
—a patience born not of belief,
but of the quiet understanding
that some citizens
require a larger stage
than their stature permits.

.

\"Fate Expectations\"

Clara Mae Gregory — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 20:47:45 +0100

The Gathering

Melinda K Zarate — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 20:32:43 +0100

The weekly gathering
always begins quietly
as the ones who come early
read their work aloud,
the audience alert,
the applause warm.

Then come the power poets,
spoken word pouring
through mouths that convey
meaning with rhythm,
stance grounded,
hands exclamation marks.

Sometimes a singer,
rapper, or musician
takes the stage,
a sudden jolt to the flow,
poetry set to music.

We are diversity in motion,
young, old, all colors,
all ages, life experiences
as varied as the fruits
in the market, each with
something enriching to give.

SIGNING IN, SIGNING OUT? NOT YET.

Alan J Ripley — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 16:23:31 +0100

Sorry folks.
Seems I've had better day's
In the life i've shared.
Here on poetbay,
Everything still isn't right,
Having trouble coalescing,
What I'm confessing.
Before I had my hospital stay,
I had an extra infection. Possibly
after I fell down hard on one knee.
(Sepsis). With D.K.A
( Didn't find out till the other day ),
Still waiting for an x-ray.
I've still got blood test,
And cardiology along the way.
With the dentist waiting,
To see me on another day.
My thoughts are drifting,
Away from poetbay.
For me it feels like,
There's nothing left.
It used to take,
Very little time.
To finish off a rhythm,
Now I struggle with every line.
I still strive to write,
At least I'm sleeping most night's.
Waking up in agony, dieing for a pee.
It's no fun being me. On top that
We've just found out,
My carol has mixed dementia too.
Sorry I don't mean to make you cringe,
It seems all I do is whing.
Theirs a lot of people out there,
That I cannot see,
That are a lot worse off,
Than the wife and me.
My heart goes out to them,
As do all my prayers.

As a child

dee quirke — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 15:24:47 +0100

I've been living this life since I've been a child. No wounder I'm not dead .
How more can you put me true ,and how more can I take
Is it that you want me to breake ,before I go to hell, am i just not punished enough living in this cell
The pain the anger the fear ,just give me the knife and let me take my life .cut and take the evil out of me .im tired of the games .but the devil just sits and smile at me

The Tragically Hip- \"Poets\"

Clara Mae Gregory — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 13:59:49 +0100

https://youtu.be/ZVBHxcfpXJg?si=jm-X6NeEFbtZtr9m

https://genius.com/The-tragically-hip-poets-lyrics

[same song at both links; includes the lyrics]

🕊R I P🕊 GORD

[From an AI Overview]
👇 👇 👇 👇 👇
Gord Downie, the iconic frontman and lyricist for the Canadian rock band The Tragically Hip (famous for hits like "Poets"), died on October 17, 2017 at the age of 53. He passed away after a brave and public battle with terminal brain cancer (glioblastoma).

His passing followed a massive cross-Canada farewell tour with the Hip, which concluded with an emotional, nationally televised concert in his hometown of Kingston, Ontario. Downie was deeply revered as Canada's "unofficial poet laureate" for his profound lyrics celebrating Canadian geography, history, and culture.

Amnesia

mickeko — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 09:48:53 +0100

I forgot again
Not the things I do

I remembered

Because they are you

I forgot again
That I need too

ALGORITHM, n. - SYMPATHY, n.

mickeko — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 08:09:20 +0100

Wild Onions

Melinda K Zarate — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 02:41:00 +0100

elemental fusion

anonface — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 01:49:05 +0100

dragon breath
daring questers
scales and swords

glinting, singing
nostrils flare

courage bold
dipping, lifting
melding lock

ever lilting
tales forge

unfiltered spouting

arquious — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 22:14:12 +0100

"Unfiltered Speech"

Some people speak as if the world were built
to take every impact.
They spout their thoughts
the way a worker might drop tools on a bench

—not hostile, just unaware
of how sound travels.

In a café or queue,
you can feel the shift
when someone talks without softening.
A remark lands,
and everyone nearby adjusts,
as though a door had opened
onto weather no one expected.

Friends try to explain it:
They don’t mean harm.
And it’s true.
Their words arrive straight from the source,
without pause, hardly any shaping,
like a message sent before an envelope is found.

Others wish for gentler phrasing,
for a moment of consideration
before a thought is released

—to let conversation move

keeping the room steady
without sudden jolts and starts.

Yet there is something revealing

in this unfiltered way of speaking.
It shows how much we rely
on small adjustments we rarely notice

—the quiet work of choosing how to speak
so others can stay with what we say.

The Failed Mission

Melinda K Zarate — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 18:18:56 +0100

Being real

mickeko — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 16:59:11 +0100

"Do you hear me?"
She asked

I lie
listening
to the pearly stream
that is her

"Yes"

"Then, what did I say?"

Damn!

Called out again

"I heard you, not the words"
I say
struggling
to sit up

بداية ...

poet*salem — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 15:49:25 +0100

اليوم بداية الصحوة

فى خطوة شجاعة و قوية

يتم طرد بعتة الأمم المتحدة

وكل الاوروبيين والامربكان

من بلادنا

لعدة اسباب

السبب الاول هو

محاولة توطين الأفارقة

فى بلادنا

وهذا مرفوض

وسبب طرد الاوروبيين والامربكان

هو انهم فرضوا علينا شروط صعبة

للحصول على الفيزا

وتكاد تكون مستحيلة

اذن بقائهم هنا سيعرض حياتهم للخطر

Sameen — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 15:48:17 +0100

Summer Fondles

Sameen — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 14:42:15 +0100

Poetry Leads the way

Kee Zealy — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 13:09:55 +0100

At this point in life
Versions of me Assumed
Mostly have grave markers
As I outlived most of them

The story of the dentists son
The story of the doctors nephew
The story of the professional mother's child
The story of their expectations
That was never meant to be

The story of marrying someone
That did not meet social norms
The story of her anguish
The story of children
Precious to me
That did not complete approval
Save one

The image of a quiet child
Lacking in social grace
That never quite fit in
Who persisted anyway
Defying false assumptions

The version presented
Of me not caring
For my children or family
As my quiet persistence
Did not meet spousal acceptance

The version from her
That said I did not
Give enough effort
Lacking bombast
When persistence wearing the quiet mask
Is the path that leads me

The version I found when she passed
Discovered from my three
Where compassion seeped past
This disguise despite her toxic vitriol
Touching those, I cared about the most

The current version
Where the mask has slipped
Where love has traced its foot steps
With silent force to my heart
Where rebirth in career validates will
Where poetry leads the way
In my thoughts and passion

. . . Breaking .

Clara Mae Gregory — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 12:18:24 +0100

in the spirit of love

i waded in the pools

both shallow and deep

i floated on the seas

where lustful transgressions drown

i have walked on the shores

inside all the love poems

where only fantasies

can entwine

the monograms

carved on a tree

for forbidden lovers

hidden in reality

i have languished from the secrets

poured into lakes of silence

where the whispers freeze

into smooth gray slate

turning my spirit

into pellets of sleet

that ripples the glass

breaking

the serenity

by Clara Mae Gregory

COPIUM, n. / PENDULUM, n./ SUMMARY, n.

mickeko — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 10:47:03 +0100

COPIUM, n. Consumed substance designed to sustain denial.

PENDULUM, n.
The swing of a hammer
adjacent to face
forcing forward minutes
for quick passing days.

SUMMARY, n. Wait, there was more?

I Am an Amalgamate

Melinda K Zarate — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 00:35:32 +0100

a progress, an idea of it

Albert Vynckier — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 00:01:39 +0100

sciences make progress but not mankind

Anger, Like a Thunder Bolt

William Hughes — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 17:55:52 +0100

By the time the thunder is heard,

lightening has already occurred.

The sulferous spark has pierced the dark

and silence for a moment rains down;

then with a clap, as if applauding

its own bravado like a horde marauding.

as if raging against a thing unknown,

as a spinning stone, and then---a groan.

Philip, a nobody; a somebody, a man,

sensed his rage before it ran

sulfer and brimstone and, molten rock,

all enwrapped inside a sheath of fury,

a bolt of brutal spleen, hot, bubbling,

a bolt of blood inside the brain, troubling.

Would that he had seen the lightening first

before he flashed and crashed and cursed.

BACK IN THE TIME MACHINE TO 1917

Clara Mae Gregory — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 13:43:30 +0100

Bellyfull Shelleyfull

Sameen — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 12:40:47 +0100

Dutch revisions

arquious — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 10:28:50 +0100

"Dutch Revisions"

They called it Dutch courage,

as if a heart needed a bottle
before it could face the storm.

Yet I've seen courage sober—
steady as a dike at midnight,
holding back a sea no one else noticed.

They called it Dutch comfort,
meaning consolation thin as paper.

But comfort can be practical:
a lamp left burning in the window,
a chair pulled closer without a word.

A Dutch feast, they joked,
where the host disappears.

Perhaps the greater generosity
is trusting guests to become companions
rather than spectators.

And if a Dutch uncle speaks plainly,
it may not be scolding at all—
only respect enough
to tell the truth directly.

The old phrases arrived carrying daggers.
Time turned them around.

Now they sound less like insults
and more like things
the world could use a little more of.

Detimement

Ingvar Loco Nordin — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 10:11:36 +0100

FROZEN IN TIME - DEFROSTS IN TIME

ken d williams — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 08:37:25 +0100

Somet frozen eons

When it defosts
Something comes
Back to life
Though time had
Marchd on
Somert comes back
To life
All is new, to the anshant
One
Not just old
From millans of years ago
The new of today, anshant
Times ago
Is there going to be, a clash of time?
Of times of the past and presant?

Kenny D. Williams

The Dyslexic Wordsmith Ov Thanet

Frozen

mickeko — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 07:58:25 +0100

Relentlessly
backward
the moving past

To spite mankind's
struggles
to make it last

The weather in the sky

Nils Teodor — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 06:46:11 +0100

Experiences change like weather

they are coming and going

The moon of knowing

timelessly glowing

In non-conceptual understanding

of the Heart from which you are never apart

the stateless state of present awareness

is clear to have always been here

the natural core of being

the true seeing

peace so full of ease

Buoyed

Melinda K Zarate — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 00:26:35 +0100

IT IS JUNE BY ANN WOOD

Ann Wood — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 00:07:28 +0100

Welcome June!
With June comes summer and the end of the school year.
It's June, today was quite cool, there was a strong wind.
I hope it will warm up again in a day or two.