louis gander

louis gander, 12 november 2020

A Lonely Poem

THERE ARE so many others that can start a loud stampede
of people running after them so that they all can read
the script of rhymes that fascinate their scrutinizing minds
to entertain emotions - emotions of all kinds.

But I am just a lonely poem buried here inside
a dusty book unsuited and unable to provide
a morsel of excitement to those readers I can't see.
They're browsing here, undoubtedly, on either side of me.

My words are like a dried up rose with bent and broken stem -
and that's why I'm a lonely poem, unlike the rest of them.
It's dark inside this dusty book. Forever, I will stay -
yet wonder, will I ever see the sunny light of day?

Rejected, I'm compelled to cry, but that I can't condone,
because my ink would surely run and I'd still be alone.
So tears I hold. I'm saddened so- and oh, I'd love to shout.
But I'll be stuck here up until this book I'm in's thrown out.

I prayed that you would find my words because God answers prayers.
He knows my good intentions and I know He always cares.
So when my prayers are answered and you read my story rhymes,
I pray that we can just be friends and have some good ol' times.

And though you will not see me smile, please know that I'll be glad.
and pray one day we'll find these times the best we've ever had.
But if, by chance, another poem's your fav'rite one instead,
I pray my words go with you when again I go unread.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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louis gander

louis gander, 12 november 2020

From Across the Lake

The cabin built with sturdy logs
(that firmly stood awake)
was nestled snugly in the trees
beside this quiet lake.

A dim and amber light shone out
to greet the lonely eye -
reflecting off this tiny lake
here under cloudy sky.

Through window pane, that sorry lamp -
far off on other side -
had shone from on a tabletop
with unseen chair beside.

And faithful chair supported all
the poet's ev'ry task.
Yet that old chair is empty now,
"but why?" you maybe ask.

You wonder who that poet is
or why he is away.
You wonder if he writes at night
or all throughout the day.

But when he comes, the chair again
will groan under his weight.
And over many months and years,
his work will rhymes create.

Now you might think and may conclude
of him, you didn't hear -
but I know this, you've read his work,
at least this poem here.

A glow begins to pour across
the sky in loving fun..
It reaches out so wide and far
with nearing of the sun.

And that light now reflects off of
a paper holding rhyme -
and calls me from across the lake.
I guess it's about time...

©2015 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 november 2020

Victory March

The living dead are going to
ask for the right to be
forgotten in gender dysphoria.

In grimed apparel,
the deities were deported back
to the barn, for housing the antiques.

The future turns blue,
moon-eyed, hooking up the
hopes of running heels.


Is that true that there
will be mass suicide after
the fall of the fort?

The fat lanterns now
don't throw the light. Incense
of burning flesh floats.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 november 2020

The Ephemerality

It was punctuated night.
You sleep into wakefulness.

The space between the shut-eyes
trembles, when you start sweating.

The infant-death of the dream,
incites the borderland. The-

flames rise in a partisan way,
to erase the memories of guilt.

You are in deep grief for the
coiled sperms, from end to end,

they were longer than the body.
Would you like to wake up a jinn?

A digital forgetfulness, you seek
to solve the enigma of life.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 november 2020

Walking In Woods

This spectrum.
No it will not work.
I am not there in the
shade, smoke filled barn, or-
in secular morgue.
Stubble burning was
like legend of war.
How do I shut the
door of diamond moon-
in the kingdom of
weeping night?
An animal in you
will not sleep, claiming the
innocence of baby steps.
A virginal vanity.
Nobody stops you to
display the grains of salt.
Would you listen to the land,
flight of words-
passage of time?


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 7 november 2020

Thinking In Depth

The moment of truth has-
arrived. The earth
has moved the man. It was
accidental verdict. You know,
which cell you will be incarceated now?

My flame-singed eyes, search
the inception of integrity above board.
I am afraid of myself to
admit that societal violence
has come to stay!

Celebrating the birthday of
a self-propelled god, I go
into irreversible retreat. God
bless the wax house, fire was
raging on hills.

The blood cherries, blood on
your shirt, blood rings on your
fingers, and blood in my eyes.


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steve

steve, 6 november 2020

Burning Flame

It cuts just like a knife, every time I hear your name...
And I feel the blood just drain away, as we start to play the game,
You're never going to give me, the part of you I need...
And I'm never going to let you know, just how much I bleed,
The tears rain down inside my head, and I am washed away...
As this heart is broken once again, by things I couldn't say,
I tried to hide this "burning flame", but I got too close to you...
Now my world is burning down, and there's nothing I can do,
Even tears can't douse the flames, as I begin to burn...
And the pain that only lonely brings, is far too strong to turn,
My heart's desire in front of me... and yet a world away...
But I'd give this life to feel your love, if only for a day.


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steve

steve, 6 november 2020

She Lives

Trapped inside myself, there's no place I can hide,
No escape, no salvation, only years of tears I've cried,
You don't know what it does to me, when you come into view...
How it tears me up inside, because I'm in love with you,
Knowing you will never care, or ever touch my skin...
Or ever really get to know, the person that I am,
Trapped and all alone, bottled up for years...
She'll never have her freedom... but she can have her tears,
No one even knows... that she lives at all...
The chains that hold her down, keep her shackled to her walls,
She'll never see the light of day, she'll never be set free...
Though she loves, she'll not be loved, such is destiny.


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steve

steve, 6 november 2020

What Am I Doing?

I can't hear your tortured thoughts, or see what you've been through...
But I can feel your pain from here, through miles of missing you,
I'm sorry if I made you think, somehow I didn't care...
I never meant to bring to you, feelings of despair,
I care so much from my heart, it swells the fear in me...
I'll ask myself "What am I doing?" I clearly cannot see,
I have no right to put on you, what I think I need...
No matter how much pain I feel, no matter what I bleed,
A world away what do I have, that could ever make you see...
All I have to offer you, is all I have of me,


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steve

steve, 6 november 2020

Time

Time has kept me prisoner, with the dreams I have of you...
Keeping me awake each night, with things that I can't do,
Slowing down the hands of time, in the middle of the night...
Minutes turn to hours, as time holds back the light,
It's only in the darkest hour, that time is standing still...
When I miss you most of all, time only you could fill,
Dreams are all I have of you, as time keeps you at bey...
But even time must run it's course, as time just ticks away,
And when the time has finally passed, just maybe we'll both see...
How precious time really is, and what our time could be.


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