I guess I have to dig you
out of this ditch now,
just when I felt comfort
in burying you.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
#Poetry #Micropoem #Comfort
Category: poetry
-
Want
Want,
What is it?
To want?
A want?
Of want?
Want of Love?
Want of desire
Want of fire
Fire rolling on skin
Burn bold
Burn bright
Burn flesh
The melding
of souls within,
skin-smooth
embrace
Hold me
Suc-tioned air
Sweat pouring want,
through flowing hair
Languishing
Gushing
Wanting,
to cry out
Want sweeps,
breathes,
in/out
of skin
Pores igniting
the air
Amber light,
night
falling
Dusk,
shadows
of lust
Reflections of soft giants
on white walls,
a world separate
from here somewhere,
separate from there
Shadow bunnies
from the past,
elusive moments
of want,
of care.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
#Poetry #Poets #LovePoem #Wordsmith
-
Glass eyed and 8
I preached,
when I was 8
years old
I felt I was
an old sage,
wordly wise
and forward
praise.
I watched the ants
march like obedient
soldiers,
into their ant hills.
My jaw ajar and
my mind gone,
lost
in space,
a dreamy state.
The sidewalk
became
another planet
and I,
glass-eyed
and 8,
pondered deeply
about black ants
and their militarized
state.
What
Where
Why,
did they
serve?
And, for who’s
purpose?
I proclaim.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Swapnil Sharma from Pexels
#Poetry #Freeverse #Poets
-
Dismantled
My anger, my rage
is the storm of
Love broken
in two,
trust dismantled
by you.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Med Ahabchane from Pexels
#Poetry #Micropoem #Shortverse
-
It’s Always There
Choose wisely
Look for the good
It’s always there
Somewhere.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo Credit- https://www.pexels.com/photo/black-binocular-on-round-device-63901/
#Poetry #Micropoem #Micropoetry
-
Not the One I Wanted
You are not the one
I wanted,
I got you though.
Even though
you let me down
a misfitted, a broken
hearted kind of a
heartbreak,
you are not the one
I wanted,
I got you though.
Even though
you pretended to be
the one supporting me
and everyday
I somehow try
to forget that,
you are not
the one I wanted,
I got you though.
Even though
you held me back
until I finally cracked,
you are not the one
I wanted.
Even though
I hid away
in the trees,
escaping
a sadness
that would never
leave,
you are not the one
I wanted,
I got you though.
Even though
I never talked
for fear you’d
never let it go,
I got you though.
Now,
I wish for
so much relief.
The Silence, the
jolted disbelief.
You are not
The one I wanted.
I got you though.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Fernando @cferdo on Unsplash
#Poetry #Freeverse #Sadness #Poet
-
THE GIFT
I give you this gift
please don’t try to
make money from it
I give you this gift
because, it is everybody’s
It is truth, it is beauty
You will see the beauty
only if you keep it
not sell it.
I give you this gift
because it’s not mine
to keep, to hide, to hold,
The truth is –
It bleeds out
It permeates
It emulsifies
I captured this beauty
momentarily
proceeding to gaze
upon its grace
purity displayed
I held it in place,
Truth is-
I give you this gift
because you are
beauty,
A gift given
placed
right here
beauty shared
not taken.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Rakicevic Nenad from Pexels
#Poetry #Universe #shortverse #freeverse
-
Snow
Soft white blanket
Serene and tranquil
Feathers from the sky
Casting its solitude
Upon the earth’s ground
Only mother nature
Can slow the chaos down
Snow is the tranquilizer
The earth can swallow slow
Calming the quakes
In its bowels down below
Waiting for the sun
To awaken the frozen slumber
Hibernating underneath
Mother Nature’s
Bright white wonder.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo Credit- https://www.pexels.com/photo/cold-snow-winter-trees-45204/
#Poetry #Poet #Micropoetry #Shortverse
-
I Stood Hostage
as i lay here
caged in silence
i feel your
pulse in my ear
a shooting
takes place
on the feed
as per standard
fare
i proceed to
stare
into a memory
long plastered
adhered, to
my inner ear
this injustice
thrust by
a belief held
dear
i feel your breath
spit my way
all control spun
away
i stood hostage
by you and him
and injustice
was laid
out, for clear
display,
the fear you
had on that
bitter day.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Ogulcan Ercal on Unsplash
#Poetry #Poet #Micropoem
-
Have I Lost the Ability to Care Anymore?
The ‘go bleep yourself’ slips
so easily
Out
My manner is steel, titanium
burning white
I care no more
Despite
Family, friend, stranger
at night, at day, in dreams
I care not one iota
About
your plight
I fought so long
I strive for ease
To come and lay
Up on, I cease
my brow, it suffers
Naught
a bit, I care less
Minus this
Plus that
A raging brook
a gentle stream
of doubt
does not linger
or wreck me out
I care no more
so fine it is
The rocking horse
and whirly wiz
From childhood to
this remiss
I don’t give,
So, fess up please
or
You can leave
me
a shadow, a nod
a blessed,
whatever it is,
The leathered
black, verses
you grip
Causes unknown
but for sure you do
fire that mouth, your
lips-
anyhow,
Know one’s home,
No care here
the show is over
I have not time
to riddle about
your blinded
Faith
This is me, see
Me now
if you care
to drop the crap
perhaps I’ll stop
and give a care,
Otherwise,
care has left
it seems,perhaps for good.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo Credit- https://www.pexels.com/photo/black-and-white-caucasian-indoors-man-157928/
#Poetry #Poet #Questions #Spokenword
-
Why Do I Write?
I write to release some air
who care’s
nobody’s in there
I write for relief
in disbelief
at the the depth
of my grief
Insane clarity
sparing me
from life’s tragedies
Why do i write?
Some people eat
cheat
growing fat
from their despair
Who care’s
nobody’s there.
So you might think
take a drink
Numb your…fucking…
don’t think!
It’s burning
thru my cheek
Bleak dim
bleeding out
my sleek
exterior,
catching me
in bold relief.
Why do i write?
Who care’s
its there
I dare
I write to release
poison
afflicting
my innards
Releasing the gas
accumulating
from my despair
Do you care?
I mean really, really care!?
This is why I write.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Marc Schaefer on Unsplash
#Poetry #Poets #Arttherapy #Rhymes
-
The Rising
And the rising
Begins
And the reign
Of innocence
Became
Denial
In their heads
And death
Became
The lead
And truth
Met it’s match
And the rising
Fed their
Nimble brain
And the reign
Of innocence
Died
That day
And it became,
The beginning
The end
Again.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Amine M’Siouri from Pexels
#Poetry #Micropoem #Poet
-
Demon
The night hugs you
Prickly and tight
The demon of the
Dark hour
Bleeds black
Lung
A sheer shrill
Echoes
The pulse
Dry eyed
Phantom
Squeezes
A blanket
A sheet
A magazine
Nothing eases
The demon
Of the dark hour
Semen
Phlegm
A hoarse cry
The night emerges
Deaf
Silent dawn
Rises
A tick tock
Clock digs
A ditch in
Your skull.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Aidan Roof from Pexels
#Micropoems #Poetry #Freeverse #Poems #Scary
-
It’s Most Consequential
It’s most consequential
They say
This election
This vote
This moment
In history
As Marley sings
“Get up, stand up”
“Stand up for your rights”
Vote as if your life
depends on it.
It’s most consequential
They say
The divide is deep
Level the playing field
Take back your rights
We
Must
Never
Turn away
It’s most consequential
They say
This,
Derision
Division
Jingoism
Can not win
Vote with heart
Cast not a ballot
Only, for your life
Cast for others
To thrive
As one, only
one.
Vote with impunity
for humanity
It’s most consequential
They say.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Element5 Digital from Pexels
#Poetry #Micropoem #Freeverse #Vote #SocialJustice
-
FREEDOM #poetry by jay
This is a repost. It feels appropriate to my thinking today to post again. As does this poem Ode to Censorship
#POET
I go inside where the rain pellets the skin
piercing and drenched
I recall, as I sit and feel the years of despots and dictators reign control
My belly contracting like a beast, unwanted and violent.
I recall my youth
The beginnings of me
I recall my innocence
I retract and recoil
The memory of despots and dictators
Lurking around and about
every corner.
Rough, tumble
Soft, plush innocence.
To un-know would be pleasure.
Yearning to un-know that the absence of light is black dark colorless
thrusting that back inside, is all but impossible.
Yet, to be wild again
if I can for a minute, even recall how that feels.
The un-infringed upon mind. Freedom.
Yes freedom. Free-dom
Free dom dom
dommm…
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
#Poetry #Freeverse #Poets #Dictators #Bullies
-
It’s Inconsequential
The moon
A bone
A gash
A dry riverbed
It’s inconsequential
They say
Here to
There to
Where to
No two are the same
They say
Grass
Fever
Sleep
The day forever
They say
Wind
Hot
Sun
Parched, bare naked
They say
It’s
inconsequential
They say.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Jorge Flores on Unsplash
#Poetry #Micropoem #shortverse #Poet
-
She Knows Nothing of This
I don’t think she knows this peace
It comes with the sitting.
The solace, the silence speaks
Days of droning about, no end to celebrate
I search for refuge. It comes at the end of
a boredom that strangles my day. Aghast in
delight at something new, shiny. A golden
gem of the night. Glows in solitude. Shines
a contrasting light, a sharp shadow
in bold relief. Scorned upon my brow. Peace
delivers a solace, a contentment at my doorstep.
She knows nothing of this.
This comes with the cracks, the splinters in
ankles and the sharp shards of ancient bone.
A tattering, worn like thistles and thorns. Peace
delivered in silence, a throne at my door.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Mitchell Griest on Unsplash
#Poetry #freestylepoetry #Verse #Meditation
-
Sir Robin
I get lost in the quantum
I retract to the bottom
Dissuaded not from filth
I wait in precipitous fashion
Fear not I am a patient warrior
From a forest of a past Notting
Ham, I am Him. I sneak with precision
not thoughtless. Calculating blows
with feathers, I save the quills
for pleasure. Yet, I get lost
in quantum. A fallible foe, rightly so
will fear my lancet, my arrow, my bow.
I am the warrior who strikes at night
not light, nor day can stop my might.
I dissipate in mist of water, regain in
strength to save your daughter.
I get lost in the quantum, a levity
a misfortune, a history recorded.
The flotsam, the forgotten, a death.
A century not this. A warrior in parallels,
in forests, I get lost in this. The quantum.
Fear not. I am of you, I am of
him, I am of your bittered friend.
This knight of pebbled precision, waiting
to hasten the death, of a man’s battled greed
to fell the fiend of filth, the hand, the arm, the leg
the bastard brethren, of a brittled breed.
I seethe in furious quiet, a lasso tied in hand
I am, I am, I am. I am your mortal friend.
I get lost in the quantum.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Paul Alnet on Unsplash
#Poetry #Poet #Robinhood #Spokenword
-
Never Cease to Speak
Why is it that it’s taboo to speak truth
when truth is ugly and vile?
Especially when you address the truth
of the dead, the people that have died
those that have left behind, the affronts
the hurt, the stink, your open wounds left
to fester, I find it indigestible
hard to swallow
the lump in my throat
a rock, a pebble, a stone, a pit
falls from the rotten
renders me a blind deaf muted
forgotten denial,
unlevied bank of the corrupted
fantastical life, you smile
Strange sinister frozen
without a gasp, or a breath
It’s unfathomable
the grace we give to the dead
those who’ve left before you
and left for you
the pain of their lashings, as if the
living were not worth living
when it was their brutal marks, the outright
slashing of the heart, the attempted murder
of your soul, that has left you
dangling here, as if
you were inanimate, without hurt
As is the day we change
As is the day we breathe
As is the air of release
The oxygen so sweet, so sweet
the outcome is in our favor
unleash the silence
speak loud to truth
and back down never
to vile compliance
Never cease to speak
truth to silence.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo credit: https://www.pexels.com/photo/architecture-art-artwork-bench-206784/
#Poetry #freestyle #Truth #Poems
-
Just the Meat and Cheese Please
On some days
you just ramble
and you think
is this crap good?
or, is it just crap?
But then again
it’s like the times
you want
only, the meat and cheese
on fresh pumpernickel-
No accoutrements
No special sauce
No tomato
No lettuce or onions
No fancy baby greens
just the meat and cheese
on pumpernickel please!
Hungry for the simple goodness
of a fresh sandwich
you dig in
mmmmmm…
now that’s a good sandwich
you think.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Sara Cervera on Unsplash
#Poetry #micropoem #sandwiches
