Category: Free Verse

My mother is the best flower in the yard.
My mother is the best mother in the world.
My mother who loves me when I’m happy or I’m sad.
Hear heart is like a beautiful world.
Her sound is like a little bird.

She is my paradise.
She accepted me, in any case.
Tired, scared, bored or anxious
I fond of my mom, I can’t give my love a size.

It’s become massive, day after day.
Believe me, I don’t lie.

She’s is like a lightly lamp in a dark night.
Her face is always bright.
I need to see it at morning, at night.
I like to hear her sound every minute.

When, she’s in the house.
It doesn’t need any accessories.
She takes care of me in illness.
She shares with me my happiness.
She’s a source of tenderness.

My mom, my sweetheart, my honey:
You believe my ambition.
Your love is an infection.
You are a source of security.
Your presence makes my life a party.
You’re a reason of smile.

The poetry is not enough to think you.
But remember…..
I love you for as long as I’m alive.
& I will continue to love you until my eyes close.
I wish Allah save you my mom.

As your silhouette kept destroying my neatly folded thoughts
I followed your shadow deep inside the cemetery of my long forgotten memories
But I didn’t find your grave.
It was as if you blossomed into an orchid of secrets,
spreading rapidly to every cell, every thought and every breath claiming them back
Last time I checked,
I thought I ripped your presence from the blue bird that whimpers weakly behind my lungs,
I thought I cried your love rivers of insecurities and washed away my heart from your touch
Yet when I dusted it for your fingertips
I found mountains of sweetly poisoned memories
I found a box of all the butterfly I had felt whenever you smiled my way
I found all the moments that I
was being held helplessly inside the fascinating truths behind your eyes
I found all the lies that hid perfectly her silhouette behind your smiles.
It drove me crazy Knowing that she was right in your arms
That I heard her in your voice,
That I smelled her perfume in the corners of your heart.

I had a crazy dream last night
You were Judas and I was crucified
My hands were nailed to the edges of your deceits
stretching back to the first time you showed me what does it mean to love.
They were tied the snowy texture of your heart that suffocated me every time I
dipped my feet further in the ocean where you kept all your secrets
I was wounded, crying out blood dunked in the color of your face.
It had A lovely shade of betrayal.
A nice hue of lies.
In my dream, I screamed you name for infinity
I whispered you to every bottle of wine,
I looked for you on every dance floor,
I rearranged the stars,
realigned the planets,
hoping that this time my luck would change;
But it never did

You see falling for you thought me that throwing yourself over the cliff of love is not scary
It is exhilarating
It freeing,
But it never prepared me to the moment my self-esteem hit the ground
and shuttered into million pieces of insecurities
It never told me what to do when my king sized bed starts to narrow
until it no longer fits anyone.
It never showed me How to erase your details from the faces I bring with me at night.
Instead it got me drunk on your voicemails
I grind your pictures with her, and get high on a love that we never had
Reminding myself that she is your everything
and I’m merely a breeze of wind that crossed your path

 

Purple hearts, purple figures, purple hands, bitter flavored places
Why do birds cease to chant in the purple chests?
They must have suffocated on the crimson tears of wounds.

A dark shadow emerges from the sun
He smiles grimly at the disfigured bodies
And whispers tear of a salty texture

Fire arises in the hearts of the flowers
Purple flames of sadness cuddle the sleeping
They smirk silkily with black kissed smiles

Heaven gates open in the skies
How come those who live never witness such divine beauty?
The world bath in purity

I stumble, I fall, and I rise
I am broken and unspoken
My dreams run to escape
My intentions remain silent
I saw a professor teaching
I saw a famous writer

I witnessed somebody filming
I witnessed an inspirational photo
The moon embraced me tightly
The sun sparkled my path to success
The pouring rain washed away any obstacles
My boat is ready for the journey!
And I hold hope, I hold hope, I hold hope
My dreams meant to–oh, the startling light!

A mountain of questions, a river of tears
I put my armor on to reach my dreams out
I have been dreaming, rising, pushing myself to realize my dreams
The hidden pain, the hidden scars, the hidden fear, the hidden melancholy
My dreams are like a game to win, an exam to ace, a life to live, a love to hold
I can see those poems, those novels, those books, those mysterious words!
The world is clapping for me and making me famous and rewarding me and reading
My books, my novels, my poems, and yet, the story of my life
My dreams are my life; the ones that make my heart keep beating!

I am from the stream that split the rock usunder 

Cutting a path so wide,  

the East no longer recognized the West 

I am from “For God so loved the world, He gave His only begotten son”,  

and, “Thou shalt have no other gods before me” 

Verses bounce off the granite cliffs, 

Contradictions echo, colliding in midair, 

the divide widens  

I am from bobby pins and cinnamon Trident,  

the smell reminds me of when the rock was one 

From princesses with eyes wider than their waists  

and shame for falling short 

The splitting terrain left its marks on flawless skin 

I am from Bobby and Venus, Danny-elle and Gabby-fifi-ella 

From long dresses at Jessica McClintock and hours lying on Lahaina’s sand 

From cold cabbage in water broth to hot crab and artichoke dip 

Nurturing water filled the void, a lush garden grew from parched land 

And My cup runneth over,  

I shall not want  

I am from a longing, for East to reunite with West,  

from a steep cavern of lost souls, death from the split,  

their suffering unresolved 

Haunting 

From a deep, suffocating sadness which cuts through my sides,  

leaving me breathless, for want of you both, of you all together again 

In a glowing room full of presents 

By Monica Festa 

They say lavender brings you peace
It sedates your thoughts and dreams
From the rage and muffled screams

In shades of amethyst that beams

I could plant a garden deep in your mind
Filled with purple anemones I will find
I’d cross the wild forests and the mountain I will climb
And I’d harvest the finest orchids and thyme

I would enchant you with a scene
A garden that was never seen
Dense with violet and green
With aromas so serene

I’d fill your soul with blossoms my dear
Beside the verbena I’d sooth your fear
I’d write for you cause I’m your Shakespeare

In shades of emerald I’ll appear

 

 

I still write the curves of my letters the same way a friend used to,

all the way back in middle school.

She was my confidante, once.

We haven’t spoken in years now.

 

I still read books late at night, when everyone else has already gone to sleep.

My mother used to do the same, at my age.

She scolds me about it, but never too much.

She still does it even now, I think.

 

I still brush my fingers over the books in my grandfather’s library

the way I remembered him do when he carried me there with him.

He died when I was three.

My grandmother always tears up when I ask to go upstairs.

 

I still listen to the songs my best friend showed me, in a language only she understands.

I don’t mind. They sound nice. I play them on repeat

when the eight-hour flight between us makes me feel alone.

 

I still laugh loudly at a good story, the way my father does,

though my laughter is nowhere near as thundering as his. He never tells me it’s unlady-like.

We just laugh together as my mother covers her ears.

 

I still bake the same chocolate cake my aunt taught me, too dark and yet too sweet,

A flavor shared like a secret between us.

An entire continent separates us, now.

I send her a picture of my cake on her birthday, and she sends me a kiss.

 

I am a mosaic of all the people I have met

Known

Cherished

Loved

I am a canvas of colors and dissonant brushstrokes

Of all the people that passed me by in life,

Even briefly, even for a moment,

Even forgotten, even at odds.

I gather the legacies they leave behind

And piece them together.

Pull me apart

And you’ll find everyone I’ve ever known.