Categories
Poetry

LIDLESS

LIDLESS BY STRONG BUFFALO

A LIDLESS CUP OF COFFEE, MADE TO ORDER, 

APPEARS UPON REQUEST, HOT AND BOUGHT, 

SOUGHT AND NOT, MY CUP OF TEA,

YET, 

BOTH DESIRED ONLY TO BE QUICKLY CONSUMED OR SPILT UPON MY LAP,

WITH A LITTLE FUSS AND SOME SUGAR AND CREAM.

SHUT UP, YOU, INSUFFERABLE POET, DRINK IT UP, AND STOP WRITING ABOUT IT!

This poem was originally published on this blog in 2017.

Categories
Poetry

Strength Within

Strength Within by Trinity L. Thompson

In a distance, I hear faint cries
although I know you must heal,
let me dry your tears…
we all have a weakness…cry if you must
allow me to help dissolve your fears,
I too lost grip of so much that I cherished in life…
I often daydream wondering why…
until I’m smiling knowing one day that it’ll be alright,
courage and strength come from within
no one can give us those qualities,
so shine like the brightest star…
dissipate the ignorance of darkness
show the world who you are,
one door closes to lock away the pain…
another door opens to release happiness and change,
just as the tears you cried have dried
then also allow your wounds to heal,
let the magic begin…
reach deep down for your strength within.

This poem was originally published in “Under Dark Skiez” A collection of poems by Trinity L. Thompson”

Categories
Poetry

Ciclos

Ciclos by Claudia Chavarría

Espanol:

Pensando
Pensando entre bien y mal

No percibo el mal y el bien como abajo y arriba, o mal es izquierda o bien es derecha u viceversa, no lo percibo como una decisión mala o buena o un buen acto o mal acto porque hoy lo que parece bueno, desde ya te digo que, ciertamente no lo es y lo que luce malo antes tus ojos siempre trae una virtud de ser y existir.

Lo percibo como un círculo, una rueda de feria, donde todo está tan conectado que lo bueno para ti, puede estar siendo muy malo para otros en otras dimensiones a la cual no estamos consciente de su existencia.

Entonces recuerdo las palabras de mi abuelo, no hagas nada bueno que parezca malo ni nada malo que parezca bueno.

English:

I think

I think between good and evil.

I do not perceive evil and good as below and above, or evil is left or right is good or vice versa, I do not perceive it as a bad or good decision or a good act or an evil act because today what seems good before your eyes from now on I tell you which certainly is not and what looks bad in your eyes always brings a virtue of being and existing.

I perceive it as a circle, a fairground, where everything is so connected that what is good for you may be very bad for others in other dimensions in which we are not aware of its existence.

Then I remember my grandfather’s words, don’t do anything good that seems bad or anything bad that seems good.

Categories
Poetry

Peanut Butter & Ayat Al-Kursi

Peanut Butter & Ayat Al- Kursi

by Sagirah Shahid

When I broke my fast

peanut butter performed a minor exorcism.

Sat upon its stainless-steel throne before backing hunger into its cage.

I licked the spoon, and my tongue recited its everlasting presence on my breath.

In childhood, my grandmother taught me how to repeat the miracles of this spread. 

Like a sura, peanut butter wards off the evil I contain when I am not fed. Before Fajir 

after Maghrib, peanut butter to protect this vegetarian’s head. One taste and I can focus again.

Two scoops, and I drift into a brief heaven. Peanut butter encompassing my afterthoughts

swirl it with some warm honey and toast, then technically even sorcery can’t alter my vibe. 

This piece was first published by the Hennepin Review.

Categories
Poetry

love.

love.

by sabr

love is innate,

it ain’t a trait. 

we don’t have to be taught it. 

like the heavy rains after a dry season, 

it just be pouring. 

but it’s fear being spread in these streets. 

we are taught not to listen to our inner knowing, 

my ears have been aching. 

from ignoring the voice within, 

but i have awakened. 

no longer will fear stifle the light that radiates, 

oh love awaits. 

Categories
Poetry

Buffalo Said

 

Buffalo Said

By Ben Weaver

Once Buffalo said,
Because we are not changing, the climate is.

When he spoke
I heard feathers brush against bells
spiraled shells turn
in the sloshing waves
breaking around my ankles
so small upon the earth.

Despite inherited
and standardized norms
insisting the world is made up of facts
rather than metamorphoses
I know that I do not exist in isolation
from any form of intelligence or life in the universe.

Our routines can be containers
for our healing and connection
or our routines can be containers
for our wounding and disconnect.

Within the integrity of a braid
I wrap my visions for the world
I imagine possible
twisting them in
with what is.

Because tress exhibit
the kind of love
that the arrogance of reason
has separated us from
I keep seeds in my hands
to remember the role
of personal healing
in collective healing
so I don’t forget
diversity is a form of resilience
and a refusal is also an affirmation.

A tree is not a tree
a tree is a forest
when in doubt
consult the grandmothers.

My prayer is that we can become
comfortable without taking
and learn to be soothed by giving
to replace the void of consumption
with the fortitude of community
to approach the dissonance
with possibility rather than limitation.

I’ll never forget last time I saw Buffalo
he was singing
If you are proud of who you are
you should be out here
dancing around in the circle of life.

Categories
Poetry

The Dance

The drum vibrates awake,

The sun covers all of the world,

The world here, the pow-wow world,

is here, to be here,

the master of ceremonies, he jokes and explains,

is a friend.

The lead singer begins with his voice

The past returns, finger pointing

The second follows up, the scale to continue,

The dancers rotate around the circle,

each step, every move with

the heartbeat that lives in the souls,

is, so real, in being real,

The colorful symphony of the dance unfolds,

in each dancer, in every move, in all,

The eyes watching in the bleachers,

The voices around the drum,

The dancers dancing alive,

the threads of it all together,

The same, the hunt, the wars, the sorrow,

the everyday, the life, the pride, the love,

The dance continues on and on!

Categories
Poetry

CAPTURE THE WIND

HE RODE UPON HIS HORSE, THE ONE, HE HAD CAPTURED FROM THE CROWS. THE EAGLE FEATHERS, THAT, HE WORE UPON HIS HEAD, TRAILED BEHIND HIM, ALL THE WAY TO THE GROUND, EARNED FOR DEEDS DONE, FOR HELPING OTHERS, FOR DOING WHAT, HE WAS MADE FOR, CAPTURE THE WIND, IS HIS NAME, HE RODE WITH MAN WHO FLYS IN THE SKY, HIS YOUNGER BROTHER. EVERY SUMMER, HE DANCED UNDER THE SUN, WITH ALL OF HIS PEOPLE, FOR SEVEN DAYS OF THE CEREMONY, HE PRAYED FOR OTHERS, AS, HE DID WALK BACK TO HIS HORSE AND RODE OFF INTO THE PLAINS, TO ONCE AGAIN, GATHER THE AIR, THAT GIVES US ALL, THE BREATH OF LIFE! AND, WHERE THE SPIRITS MOVE WITHIN ALL THAT LIVES! IF YOU, LISTEN WITH YOUR HEART, YOU MAY HEAR THE SOUND OF HIS HORSE AND HE RIDING BY, TO LEAVE YOU AND YOURS, SOME FRESH AIR! FOR, TO CAPTURE THE WIND, ONE MUST DO, TO LIVE!

Categories
Poetry

SPIRIT HORSE

A SPIRIT HORSE FLEW BY ME, IT DID NOT GALLOP, IT, DID NOT NEED TO, FOR, SPIRITS DO NOT RUN, THEY FLY, THEY NEED NOT BE LIKE ALL THE OTHERS, NOT OF A HERD, IT WAS MOSTLY, AIR AND WIND, OH, THAT’S SAME THING! ONE DOES NOT NEED TO STRADDLE THE SADDLE OR PUT IN A BIT, INTO IT’S MOUTH, TO TAME THE BEAST! FOR, ALL THOSE EQUESTRIANS’ TO RIDE! IT APPEARED TO ME, TO BRING ME, A GIFT FROM THE SPIRIT HORSE!
THAT, NEVER CAME BEFORE, THAT, I NEVER KNEW, KNEW ME, THAT, HAD NEVER CAME BEFORE, THAT TO BE MORE ACCURATE, IS THAT, IT WAS ME! WHO IS THAT, SPIRIT HORSE!

Categories
Poetry

What a strange prison we find ourselves in?

We, the ‘Lost Birds’ are flying around in our cages and playing with our toys, as, the outside is blooming and the ‘takers’ are taking more, but, inside, we learning to love and be human, again, this sickness going to lead to a world more human and that’s trouble for all those rich cats…