#thepoets

[slickthepoet]

“You see a star fall I evolve with the confetti A mix of Bob Marley, Malcolm x and mackevli I gotta win the prize feeling like nas on belly Seems so sentimental my life is an instrumental The shit so incidental Letting dawg out the kindle I master p my life Then camouflage at night I keep my circle small but let homies see the light Young rapper fight through life Rapping in front of mics Facing all of my wrongs, focusing on my rights Larry bird magic Johnson always stuck facing mike Leave the side of the drugs Just to find the peace and love Seeing cousins turn to plugs My own brother turn to drugs Now my shoulder shrugs Like ion even care To be honest it hurting me Knowing I ain’t even there.” #SlickThePoet #Poetry #angel #thepoets #Poeticrhythmmusic #griffith #viral #fyp #reel #losangeles #hollywood #neworleansartist (at Griffith Observatory) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmHYxrypVv4/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[darlinngninawrites]

A poem for fall

Autumnal Sundays bring nostalgia beneath the winds. East bound, chill filled with melancholy. Rose-tinted clouds adorn the atmosphere where languishing sunsets announce impending torments. The silent moon ushers in reflections of distant worlds long before darkness engulfs. The weeping trees are swollen with the murmurs of lovers muttered at their roots. Their parting leaves crushed on the ground like blisters whose drippings fall through deathly twigs.

There is a feeling all around of hope that has fallen without a sound. The imminent halt of a cycle which claimed unaccompanied souls through its tunnels. And the body anticipates the burning – the ritual of ridding the flesh of all unwanted guests.The titaness of dawn scatters new life upon mortals under a withering sky. Let us beg mercy of her supple, tender hands.

It is fall, the hours of morning go by so quickly and the prelude of the afternoon finds me suspended in a longing - inside the cold, darkened cavity I have dug for myself eluding tremors. I swing my hand into the wind wishing to appease this yearning – a violent swoosh returns it empty. Outside the names of past lovers swirl in the air interspersed in the dying summer sky. It will be hard exhaling through the memories,  mother warns inhaled grief is never released.

And I am at a standstill, awaiting the bounty of all my prayers. My thoughts aligned at the periphery of fading fears. Lay my rotting bones amongst the trembling wetlands, between the chanting sycamores. Lower my head between the dampened shrubs before rains enfold. Autumn comes not with color but with the washing of tones which have died along the way. This is what is left. This is what remains. Soon ubiquitous winter nothingness will reign.

[knifeforkbook]

POET PAMELA DUNGOA

[knifeforkbook]

POET CHRIS BANKS

[knifeforkbook]

POET STACY SZYMASZEK

[knifeforkbook]

POETS KATHRYN MOCKLER & NYLA MATUK

[knifeforkbook]

POET JAKE BYRNE

[knifeforkbook]

POET ROB TAYLOR