PoetsUnplugged.com

This is She Was Just Walking Home by Fin Hall

Richard Harries on Writers Block

Live Poet Special K

Live Poet Sarah Belum-Mental

WHY are woman afraid? by Catalina George

Live Poet Rhoda Thomas 

Live Poet Noah Levin

Live Poet Kev Bamboo

Live poet Kelly Van Nelson

Live Poet Kelly Buchan

Live Poet Joan Hall

Live Poet Franchesa Kirkpatrick

Live poet Fin Hall

Live Poet Christine Hall

Live Poet Cathy Carson

Live Poet Abbey Oliviera

YT live poet  Susan Wakefield 

Money is power power is money by Vivian Evayero

Where the Butterflies Belong - A Spiritual Short-story by Charles E.J Moulton

AUTHOR SHOWCASE David Dephy Eastern Star Poet

submit to this email: bestbigbopper69@hotmail.com

The Winter Years (full length) by Eugenia Fain

Live Poet Annette Trapley

How I wish by Vivian Evayero

Save the Environment by Guppyman

Across the Blazing Sky by Adegite Precious

Of Thee I Sing by Sherre Vernon

Mother Mirror, Mother Tongue by Sherre Vernon

Miss Longstocking by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons

SHOUT OUT for the Creative WEBZINE, call for submissions

Across the blazing Sky by Adegite Precious

The Kali- Poem by Mehak Varun

Like Mother by Sherre Vernon

Arcrostic Sonnet by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons

If By Light  by Sherre Vernon

Chill your Base by Charles E.J Moulton

I Never Tell You I Love You by Sherre Vernon

I am awake (thoughts of a vampire) by Sophia Behal

I Don’t Want Perfume by Sherre Vernon

Sunset by Eugenia Fain

SONG Charles E.J. Moulton is singing Strangers in the night

Dedication of the Fire-Fish by Sherre Vernon

SONG Charles E.J. Moulton is singing MUSIC OF THE NIGHT from Phantom of the Opera.

BRAVOOOOOO!!!!!

About my Brest by Sherre Vernon

Pinocchio's nose  by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons

Cocktails at Midnight Charles E.J. Moulton 

A Descriptive Linguists of Isolation by Sherre Vernon

Resurrected - To Live is to Die by Wise Poe

Embryo by Nikki Marrone

In the sky by Carrie Magness Radna

SONG Charles E.J. Moulton is singing MoonRiver

INTERNATIONAL WOMAN'S DAY

My life is a canvas, by Charles E.J. Moulton

Spock by Christian Ward

Why don’t the affected sleep (6+6+3+3+4) by Carrie Magness Radna

She Insists by Celia Lisset Alvarez

Birth A Psychedelic Oddyssey by Nikki Marrone

Say It Louder - The Pledge

Angora Poets World Caffe January 24th 2021

Angora poets june edition

SONG CORONA WE DONT WANT prod. by ALLRA

Metha-morphosis by Aldo Quagliotti Co-author of the mobile phone app Poetry Advent Calendar available at google play and apple app store.

Audiobook  series "Advent Calendar "available at: https://www.kobo.com/ww/en/audiobook/advent-calendar-7.

My name is Aldo Quagliotti, and I'm an an italian poet based in London.

In 2019 I published my first collection of poems, Japanese Tosa, published  by London Poetry Books. The anthology  debuted on October 2019 at the Tea House Theatre in Vauxhall and has then been promoted throughout the London open mic nights such as Flo vortex, Paper Tiger, Poetical Word. This October I've published my second Poetry collection, Confessions Of A Pregnant Man (AlienBuddha Press).

My poems have also been published in italian anthologies, such as Il suono del silenzio 2008 and 2008, and Brazilian magazine (Revista Torquato). Nationally, my work has been included in English anthologies such as Reach 253, Murmurations, Cannon Poet Quarterly, Poetry In The Time Of Coronavirus, The voices Project, The Writers Club, Fleas on the dog, The Materialist , The Essential anthology, Word Doodles, Ponsersavant, The Raconteur Preview, The Orange Blush zine, Lion and Lilac, Unheard Poetry, Poetic Unity, and Literary Magazine. Recently, I have been selected as one the poets representing the Poetry Corner as part of the Kesington+ Chelsea Art Week in London (1-11 October).

link to her reading

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/multiverses-a-virtual-reading-and-signing-tickets-142192877725?aff=ebdssbeac

The Hudson River Blues - A Short Story  Reading by Charles E.J. Moulton.

My story was written in 2017 and published 2020 by the online magazine Aaduna. My poetry version of the story was set to music by Melvin Edmondson and the song is also available for watching via YouTube, along with other of our songs.   Henry never forgot Olivia. He even wrote her a song. He lost touch with her, but his heart still yearns for her love...  The story is dedicated to New York City, to swing music and to sweet kisses and caresses in the moonlight...

my name is Aldo Quagliotti, and I'm an an italian poet based in London.

In 2019 I published my first collection of poems, Japanese Tosa, published  by London Poetry Books. The anthology  debuted on October 2019 at the Tea House Theatre in Vauxhall and has then been promoted throughout the London open mic nights such as Flo vortex, Paper Tiger, Poetical Word. This October I've published my second Poetry collection, Confessions Of A Pregnant Man (AlienBuddha Press).

My poems have also been published in italian anthologies, such as Il suono del silenzio 2008 and 2008, and Brazilian magazine (Revista Torquato). Nationally, my work has been included in English anthologies such as Reach 253, Murmurations, Cannon Poet Quarterly, Poetry In The Time Of Coronavirus, The voices Project, The Writers Club, Fleas on the dog, The Materialist , The Essential anthology, Word Doodles, Ponsersavant, The Raconteur Preview, The Orange Blush zine, Lion and Lilac, Unheard Poetry, Poetic Unity, and Literary Magazine. Recently, I have been selected as one the poets representing the Poetry Corner as part of the Kesington+ Chelsea Art Week in London (1-11 October).

Silent Afternoon by David Dephy

This February, 2021 Centennial Art Center Gallery presents Voices of the Past, A Celebration of Black History.  In this exhibit artist Henry L. Jones speaks about his artwork. An accomplished poet, Henry also treats us to a powerful reading of his poem, "I Know Your Tears" from "Black Skillet Blues: Poetry without Cornbread."

The winter years by Eugenia Fain

‘Listening From Home,’ Elan Barnehama

And artwork by Rhonda Fishman

Burning Through The Bloodline by Nikki Marrone

The Demise of Human Events by the famous Frogg Corpse. Thank you for having you as a guest.

Warhols Wig 1986 by William Lessard 

BIO:

I'm a Zambian. My name's Chitendwe Chioza (she/her) but most people struggle pronouncing my full names, so I also go by Tende C.

I mostly write to declutter my mind . Most of my work is based by life experiences and shaping negative emotions into something beautiful so I don't dwell on pain as much. I started writing, or should I say journaling to combat personal issues with depression and anxiety. Along the way, I realized I'm actually a wonderful writer.

A book is in the works, somewhere soon.

IG: @hiddentruthsandguidinglights

#Number One by Barbara Berman 

It's just the water by Rachel L. Makinson

SONG: The Hudsonriver Blues by Mel Vin

BIO:

I'm a Zambian. My name's Chitendwe Chioza (she/her) but most people struggle pronouncing my full names, so I also go by Tende C.

I mostly write to declutter my mind . Most of my work is based by life experiences and shaping negative emotions into something beautiful so I don't dwell on pain as much. I started writing, or should I say journaling to combat personal issues with depression and anxiety. Along the way, I realized I'm actually a wonderful writer.

A book is in the works, somewhere soon.

IG: @hiddentruthsandguidinglights

Let me guess by Miss Rainbow Moonfire

Tabula Rasa - A Short Story by Charles E.J. Moulton

Angora Poets World Café (December 27TH)

Its Not Easy Being Green Verse 161-170 by Caroline Burrows

A little old by Bill Strangmeyer (Angora Poets World Caffe)

Its Not Easy Being Green Verse 151-160 by Caroline Burrows

FREE by Sophia Behal

Trust yourself by Ity Pandey  Mumbai, India

Zen Beats by Jane SpokenWord

Its Not Easy Being Green Verse 141-150 by Caroline Burrows

Game of chess by Ity Pandey  Mumbai, India

I am not God by Miss Rainbow Moonfire

A days' rest by Bill Strangmeyer

YOU II by Sophia Behal

Version 1.0 out of the book the multiverse by Celia Lisset Alvarez

Its Not Easy Being Green Verse 131-140 by Caroline Burrows

Its Not Easy Being Green Verse 121-130 by Caroline Burrows

Its Not Easy Being Green Verse 111-120 by  Caroline Burrows

The Art of Poetry by Jane SpokenWord

First Hours of a Rainy Day by Dave Willsone

Its Not Easy Being Green Verse 101-110 by Caroline Burrows

Plastic by Mohammed Anis. Enjoy

The ebook is available on amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Poetry-Marathon-Day-1-Pandemic-ebook/dp/B08LTMT3F2/ref=sr_1_2?dchild=1&keywords=a+Poetry+marathon&qid=1603992182&sr=8-2

The audio poems will be available at Kobo and NOOK, jus make a google search: Poetry Marathon and Kobo.

Each audio poem costs only 99 Cents

YOU by Sophia Behal (Angora Poets World Caffe)

The Poem Him out of the book HIM read by Karren Scott

STRANGER read by Dalia Zeghar

Maximus Beast, a poem by Dave Wilsone (Angora Poets World Caffe)

FACETIME a poem read by Mohammed Anis

I am a Poet by Jane SpokenWord

A days' rest by Bill Strangmeyer (Angora Poets World Caffe)

Poem  out of the book "Sell me insanity" read by Karren Scott

"When you are poor" read out of the book SPARKEL and BLINK read by Karren Scott

Its Not Easy Being Green Verse 91-100 by Caroline Burrows VerseCycle

The poem All Healing is Self-Healing by Dave Willsone

A book by Bill Strangmeyer (Angora Poets World Caffe)

Along came a poem has been written, read and produced by the fabulous Fiona Alwora

Its Not Easy Being Green Verse 81-90 by Caroline Burrows VerseCycle

The poem Gun by Mohammed Anis

Its Not Easy Being Green Verse 71-80 by Caroline Burrows VerseCycle

Angora Poets World Cafe September 6th

Its Not Easy Being Green Verse 61-70 by Caroline Burrows aka VerseCycle

Angora Poets World Caffe August 22

Listen to the Song ˇI want to beˇ by LUMN

Launch for the charity book released for various cancer charities, 

Words to Remember is the debut collection from Printed Words

featuring 43 various authors.

The launch for this featured book:

The following people read tonight:

Andy N

Amanda Steel

Dray Zera

Emma Lee

Sam Palmer

Anthony Smith

Linda Quinn

Ilaria Passeri

The book can be purchased from all the usual booksellers including Amazon at:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Words-Remember-Printed-Anthology/dp/1393548857/

Sidney Williams has written 12 published novels and a host of short stories. He is a creative writing teacher and former newspaper reporter. The pic is of Oliver, who's mentioned in the poem, sitting on my lap. 

R.I.P. OLIVER from all of us.

Listen to this "Suicide Awareness and Prevention' poem on World Suicide Prevention Day #WSPD by Caroline Burrows

‘#Poetry Helps: Suicide Awareness and Prevention’

by Caroline Burrows @VerseCycle

for Glenside Hospital Museum, and Bristol Festival of Ideas

Suicide: the act; the ideation,

Even the word is often avoided,

To help prevent it, let’s start a conversation.

How should such a scary subject be worded?

Current advice recommends being direct,

So say the word ‘suicide’, be candid.

Other terms can be taken out of context.

Like ‘doing something silly’ or ‘having dark thoughts’,

Which might minimize or mock in their subtext.

One suicide survivor said she’d have been less distraught,

If she’d known of the types of help that can be sought,

That getting sectioned is only used as a last resort.

If worried about how to give someone support,

ZeroSuicideAlliance.com’s website,

Has courses online that are both helpful and short.

I watched three videos which gave me an insight,

How to approach family, colleagues, or strangers,

If I am worried and want to check they’re alright.

Other things we can learn from suicide survivors,

One told me after he shared his feelings with his partner,

That when he reached out, it brought in help from others.

Some non-verbal signs which act as indicators,

Changes in sleep, low mood, rapid weight shifts,

These might suggest suicidal behaviours.

Pay attention if someone starts taking risks,

Seems distracted, or socially withdrawn,

Things at odds with their normal characteristics.

Other things to look out for which might warn:

The giving away of prized possessions;

Anger; substance abuse; can be cause for concern.

Phrases might show suicidal ideation:

Someone might say they feel worthless, hopeless,

A burden, or alone, with no future option.

A survivor once thought putting others first was selfless,

But that meant she cared for herself less and less,

She said self-care’s not selfish; it’s needed for wellness.

Risk factors are: a sense of helplessness;

Dealing with bereavement; or unemployment;

An untreated, or an active mental-health illness;

Or chronic pain that doesn’t respond to treatment,

Such stresses might lead to someone not knowing how

To cope, or negatively affect their judgement.

These signs and symptoms show commonly how

Many factors affect someone’s mental well-being.

By talking we can help make someone ‘safe for now’.

Speak to the person, ask them how they’re feeling,

Say you’ve noticed them acting differently;

They don’t seem themselves; Can you help with anything?

If they are experiencing difficulties,

Listening shows you care, and can make a difference,

When someone feels isolated with their worries.

So you can provide the correct assistance,

Ask if someone is thinking about suicide,

To know where to go next for more guidance.

One survivor felt like part of his brain lied,

That his every negative thought got magnified,

This was his anxiety; it had catastrophised.

If someone’s having thoughts they’re trying to fight or hide,

And experiencing suicidal ideation,

There are organisations with whom they can confide.

There’s a helpline with the Samaritans,

Which can be phoned any day twenty-four seven,

Their service provides someone who listens.

Mind’s Infoline provides information,

During office hours about services,

....

Copyright © Caroline Burrows 2020.  Twitter/IG/Facebook/YouTube: @VerseCycle

Its Not Easy Being Green A Year of Trying to be Environmentally Friendly Verses 51 to 60 by Caroline Burrows VerseCycle. Enjoy

Its Not Easy Being Green A Year of Trying to be Environmentally Friendly Verses 41 to 50  by Caroline Burrows VerseCycle. Enjoy

This is the Poem REAL WOMAN by James Dean Rivera

Making a Film by Red (Angora Poets World Caffe)

Its Not Easy Being Green A Year of Trying to be Environmentally Friendly Verses 31 to 40  by Caroline Burrows VerseCycle. Enjoy

Listen to the Angora Poets World Caffe, August 9th 2020

Its Not Easy Being Green A Year of Trying to be Environmentally Friendly Verses 21 to 30 by Caroline Burrows VerseCycle

It's easy to be seduced by Michael Ruffenberg (Angora Poets World Cafe)

Its Not Easy Being Green A Year of Trying to be Environmentally Friendly Verses 11 to 20  by Caroline Burrows VerseCycle. Enjoy

Ladies and Gentlemen Please enjoy The Dean of Poetry, James Dean Rivera with his poem BE THANKFUL.

Enjoy Angora Poets World Caffe July 21ST Edition.

Angora Poets World Cafe June 29th 2020. Enjoy.

Angora Poets World Cafe June 21st 2020. Enjoy.

Poem Thank You Kimberly by James Dean Rivera

Little Room by Red (Angora Poets World Caffe)

Czech-English Reading sample of #WUHAN by Sophia Behal available at bit.ly/wuhanpoetry

Paris calling. SUNDAY 8:00 Paris time. 2:00 NYC. 1:00 Chicago. Noon Oakland California. Poets, Writers, Performance Artists. From the 4 corners of our planet. All languages spoken.

Penumbra and the Cellar Door

(In which my horses register the Kansas eclipse...)

Pretty word, Penumbra, deserving of a poem

and Cellar Door, two more together, a gift from

some English teacher many many years ago when

I was in third grade, she said the words and said

they were so lyrical and some words, when combined

had that magic beyond the meaning, it cut a pathway

in my mind, though it puzzled me for years until it

didn't and I understood some of what she meant.

The eclipse mooned Kansas yesterday and with the

cardboard eyewear I registered the slight scythe of

sun, the crescent slimmer than any moon on any

Arab flag, and then the word Penumbra flared around

the full black moon, and grass was individualized, no

longer just a pasture, but single stems dimensional.

My horses grazed around me, their grass-pull

squeaks the only sound, one gazed around when

darkness rose among the brome, and said the equine

equivalent of hmmm, went back to grazing. I may

have had a rapture of the dark where I quit breathing

for a moment, but it passed with the moon, and time

began for me again. Thin tattered veils of clouds slid

high and fast across the moonbit sun then it was whole

again and so was I. Penumbra Cellar Door I prayed.

Angora Poets World Café June 7th 2020

A Rabbits Whisper by Sophia Behal

SUNDAY MAY 31 / 20h-8 p.m. Paris time. ANGORA ¨POETS World Caffé. Poets, Writers, Singers, Flutist, hailing from Sri Lanka, Tibet, Algeria, Morocco, Egypt- Abu Dhabi, Paris, Berlin,Toronto, York U.K., NYC, New Jersey, Rockford Illinois. Pittsburgh.

A poem "Embracing the Twilight Years  by Juliana Renika-Breez

featured by Angora Poets World cafe

This is the poem "Stupidity" by Isabell Lorion, which is one of the Angora Poets.

Shangri-La by Jooliana Renika-Breez

Featured by Angora Poets World Cafe

SONG-POEM "Mum's the word" by Roxanne Hoffman

Featuring at Angora Poets World Cafe

5 Tips on writing better Poetry by Sophia Behal

SUNDAY MAY 24. 20h-8 p.m. Paris time. ANGORA ¨POETS World Caffé. Poets, Writers, Singers, Flutist, hailing from Sri Lanka, Tibet, Algeria, Morocco, Egypt- Abu Dhabi, Paris, Berlin,Toronto, York U.K., NYC, New Jersey, Rockford Illinois. Pittsburgh. ALL INVITED to read their poetry. WOW! Angora Poets World Cafe is on!

BRAVOOO!!!Live Poetry from Andy N and Amanda Steel

BRA

VOOO!!! Live Poetry from Andy N and Amanda Steel

5 Steps to slam Poetry by Sophia Behal

Enjoy the song Rabbitsolo by Sophia Behal

SONG rabbit singing You are so Unforgettable

"Who Am I"

Crack of dawn
Essence of happiness
Golden throne

Bed of moss
Smell of roses
Silver bonds

Spirit of adventure
Intricate roads
Needle of a compass

Blooming in the garden
Vines with thorns
Words that umbrella pain

Inner fire igniting the world
Love that vanishes fear
Kiss of hope

Leather bound book
Filled with experiences
A beautiful mountain climbed

Compassionate words
Persona of sweetness
A lover and a fighter

A single tulip
Amidst a million roses
Unique with a mysterious look

A poetic cartographer
Feelings of sentiment
Living only in the moment

This I am!

BIO

Keisha Molby-Baez also known by her poet name Coco is a writer, author, veteran, curator, mother of three and a Bronx Coordinator. Keisha is the author of two self-empowering poetry books “Tears laced with Fire” and   “A little bit of Sugar”. Her poem “Seeds Planted” is published and featured in MER VOX Quarterly. Keisha’s poems are anthologized in Inside the Panic Room, United: Volume Red, BX Writers and The Revolution, of which she is a Pushcart Prize nominee. Keisha is an incredible supporter and producer of her community. She has a lovely inner light and a raw-truth style that captivates her audience. She is the creator of Coco’s Delight and dedicated to her life path of turning pain into purpose. She enjoys performing, challenging herself and empowering others. Keisha is currently working on her third book and next project.

Song SRDCE (eng. heart) by Nada Q Ver and Bun+E

Nada Q ver and Bun+E are music producers from the Czech Republic. Both have been making music for over 2 decades and they both love to get together and produce/record great new songs. Enjoy

Arrival of Us

It was a summer's day.

I was hidden away

in the grave yet helplessly.

I was craving your sweet voice to stay.

Time changing night into day.

I wanted to fly away

in an eternal way, yet I am deadly sway.

I was awakening at night craving your blood your life.

Counting the night change into day.

I bit and took you away.

In your arms we both deeply in love clearly.

I was craving blood and you made me stay really.

The first time i saw a summer's day

I felt the  sunlight take me away.

In your arms we both are decaying noiselessly.

I was the killer, one night followed by the day we would forever stay.

Ashes  turning into dust by day.

I still feel the wind carry us away.

In your arms and now gone with you eternally.

As time heals both the beauty and the killer certainly.

Thoughts of a Vampire

written by Sophia Behal

Dear Ladies and Gentleman,

Please listen to the song BONGO I by BUN+E

Produced and Copyrighted 2016

Enjoy

The poem "The Surviver" is taken out of the book of poetry #WUHAN.

Its is available as ebook and paperback at bit.ly/wuhanpoetry.

And it is available as audiobook and FREE with the Kobo trial.

Just google: #WUHAN audiobook Kobo and find your free sample.

This Song has been released 2019 and is available on iTunes, Spotify, Radiopublic, etc., 

The song has been written and produced by Bun+E

UNDEAD POETRY  themed poetry SCI-FY  special.

Thoughts of a Vampire.

I AM AWAKE

I am awake.

A sleeping city lays

beneath my feet

but, now, a stranger passes.

I am awake.

A tasty smell of fresh blood

beneath my nose

lingers and gives me a fresh energy dose.

I am awake.

His position close to me lies.

I follow him - time flies.

Closely to his steps my attention ties.

I am awake.

As I search

for a perfect place

for the attack at a corner in the dark.

I am awake.

When everyone sleeps.

No one would witness

when my fang his neck pinches.

I am awake.

Bloods circulate.

A moment to celebrate.

One left for the others sake.

I am!

And I am awake!

Read by Sean van Dutch

Written by Sophia Behal

Nathan came up with this great idea...

We are calling all artists and poets to write a poem "who am I...." 

and narrate it and submit the mp3 recording to

poetsunplugged@usa.com

IN DAYS NOW HERE

As the sun goes slowly blind

As day gives way to night

Does the earth bring forth works of the nocturnal kind

To light

As the sun goes slowly blind

Do the fears of days past pervade my mind

And I, finding myself more lost in my own eyes

For I have become habituated to blood and cries

In days bygone

We lived without fear of a stray bullet

From the end of a gun

Or from rampant attack by armed children of night with the insatiable gullet

Those who have shed the last shred of innocence

The last vestige of shyness and despoil without conscience

In days now gone, inhabitants of the north

Could practice the religion of colonialists of the west as in the south

Without apprehension

Of an abrupt visitation

Into the bosom of the messiah

Although being the desire of every believer

Messengers of death pluck in their prime

By crime

Those who are ripe for death and those who are not

In this web of bigotry are we caught

In days bygone

The sound of firecrackers did not set our minds affray

Back in the day

The sound of fireworks did not bear a striking similitude in sound to bombs

Mere sounds did not remind us of sobs

This air I breathe reeks of despondency and doom

For I cannot find safety even behind bolted doors of my own room

The next sound may be boom! Who knows who the next victim may be

It may be you, it may be me

How much I envy the bliss of the numb creature

For reality

Being too thorny for my noble nature

In this world is much cruelty

I wish I could wink and make it all go away

This cannot hold sway

For reality does not tango to the tune of tiny tots

Or even of noble thoughts

How long shall one continue in battle against reality?

We all lie as victims in the hard hands of insecurity

If life is a stage, it is time to play our part

For our dear nation is fast drifting apart

If we continue to steer this chaotic course

Even by faith there shall be no recourse

This nation shall be as catastrophic as titanic at sea

No more bloodshed, this is our plea

How much I mourn the loss of days bygone

In days now here, what lies the fate of the one

unborn?

by Yewande Adebowale

HOW LONG WILL THE SANE REMAIN?

It hunts sanity

like a crazed pride of desperately starved lions

on hunt for prey

launching veracious attack

on body, bone, biscuit bone and brain

at one fell swoop,

but this will to live is strong;

iron and stainless

On the lane of the sane

but for how long will the sane remain so and same?

It is as biting as a score of vengeful mosquitoes on an ill mannered host;

situate ever so close to green still water.

It burns, passionately,

like the unwelcome romance of the midday sun in the Sahara

leaving in its wake, desert without green or water

How long will the sane remain so and same?

When change is but old wives tales

by moonlight and we watch,

seemingly helplessly as this fragile fetus is forcefully flushed

away by a repugnant order which will not benefit

swiftly from new birth

The cycle is repeated

again and again -

conception and death

like an ever constant circumference

How long will the sane remain so and same?

when pedal-led propaganda

matter most

even more so, than an actual rebirth of hope

and how long will the sane remain so and same?

when the sacred sea source of all

is defiled for the sake of offspring’s of sect

the forsaken are as countless

as drops in seas

A land of green and a fair flowing river

makes the sane remain so and same

by Yewande Adebowale

Machine

Satanic mill of the seventh circle.

House of monsters. Thumbscrew mechanics.

Progress dragging its sack of laments.

This machine is devoid of function.

Old paint covers the blood and dents,

smoke and fumes in acrid conspiracy.

That sound you hear is its jibbering inventor,

his madness a device with jagged edges

and lights that cast no shadow,

making noises like the dead make dying.

A machine for breaking other machines.

Demon’s loom. Soul press. Black factory.

All humanity goes into it. Nothing comes out.

by Bruce McRae

BIO

Bruce McRae, a Canadian musician currently residing on Salt Spring Island BC, is a multiple Pushcart nominee with over 1,600 poems published internationally in magazines such as Poetry, Rattle and the North American Review. His books are ‘The So-Called Sonnets’ (Silenced Press); ‘An Unbecoming Fit Of Frenzy’; (Cawing Crow Press); ‘Like As If’ (Pski’s Porch); ‘Hearsay’ (The Poet’s Haven).

Color of hope

I looked over my shoulder one day

over a vast vivacious field filled with people just like me

on a day that the sun was dangerously high

and recklessly unforgiving;

sucking all moisture dry from body and brain

draining strength away from marrow and bone

I looked over my shoulder to behold

a flag on a pole

it stood high and proud

flown in full mast in green and white

beaten and broken too by excruciating heat

wearied but refusing to be buried alive

it stood so high and so proud

enviably;

flown in full mast in green and white

against sky-blue hue

The white seemed whiter with each permeating ray of the sun

the green grew greener as I stayed longer,

as I stared longer

perturbed like an indigo-imbroglio

It must be because of the yellow in the ultra-violet

or the mirage caused by overexposure to bright red heat

burning all moisture and sense off me

sheer craziness it must be, if I can

in this heat behold a rainbow out of green and white

again, I see the land that is green

for green is, life.

How is life buried?

As the drops of sweat fall across our faces

again and again

so also do these sun scorched tears expose every pain.

As I mustered the courage to continue again

on my way

the image imprinted on my mind till this day remains;

I see who we truly are

we are the green that will continue to grow aggressively,

for we are life.

We are the white that will continue to glow perpetually,

for we are light.

I see the green

I see the white,

and the rainbow.

by Yewande Adebowale

#3 and last part of our Sculpturing Series

GIGO

belligerent origins of waste ablaze in bonfire

spewing eternal flames of flared gas from draconian chimney

rising to the heavens in soot and particles

provoking acidic rainfall, yes mother earth gives gigo with reckless abandon

plastic dumpling bubbles litter the seas in plethora

ocean cum dumpsite of non-biodegradable decommissioning

oil barrels disposed offshore drop after drop refusing to cease

aquatic life depleted by milestones and yardsticks

intense heat waves in their stride have come

voluminous floods fill the trenches breaking down floodgates

windbreaks now decertified

you receive what you give

the earth cries uncontrollably refusing to be comforted

the seas rage without fail displaying utmost displeasure

you receive what you give

garbage in, garbage out

By Yewande Adebowale

On The Other Side Of The Mirror

All of us are running backwards into yesterday.

A land of the left hand, perspective is cast free.

Time and death pose prettily.

Dust motes set off in a southerly direction.

On the other side of the mirror

is a door that must never be opened.

A door like quicksilver, like a breath

between the light and dark dimensions.

It’s after midnight there, always,

the mirror a windowpane demons peer through.

They see us in our downy beds

and are consumed with grievous envy.

Hello, Poets Unplugged. It’s me, the writer/sculptor Guinotte Wise with a second sculpture episode. It’s about one piece this time, a sculpture titled...Angel Tired of Avenging.

I made this for the main sculpture at a solo show at The Hilliard Gallery in Kansas City. We did a postcard, featuring this piece and it sold from that postcard. The folks who bought it never saw it at the gallery.

They have a dining room of glass and steel cantilevered out over a wooded area, and this angel stands at the end, facing the long table. Whoever sits at the head of the table has the angel looming behind them. Eight feet tall.

Protecting them. From bad dinner guests maybe.

Angel has two sets of hands. One set is involved with the chrome wings and holding her face shield which is a vintage diving suit porthole.

The other is flat against the angel’s flowing robes as if to signify “I’m done with all this avenging business.”

If you look closely, there’s an Uzi semiautomatic weapon partially visible in the angel’s cloak. It’s an expensive replica with a working action, so, just to be sure, I welded that shut. The barrel, too.

I take a lot of guns off the street and disable them. They make great sculpture parts. The meat cleaver at the bottom finishes the sweep of her skirt material and says “I ain’t kiddin’ around, people.”

Other parts include a brake tester as her WWF belt buckle. A bandolier of 50 caliber shells floats in her skirt. The wings are made of cut-up Volkswagen bumpers circa 1980.

Her backpack has two jets disguised as Buell Harley mufflers.

That’s it. If you ever have dinner at this guy’s house, don’t make a false move. The angel is armed.

Next episode is another angel titled Magister Patronum.

That means major protector more or less in Latin.

And that concludes this sculpture episode, unplugged poets. Contact Sophi if you’d like to come on board with some art.

‘Bye for now. Stay safe and socially distant.

I-U=Peace Squared

You abandoned me

Love don’t live here anymore

Devastation took its place

For this I could not brace

No remnants of us, not even a trace

It’s as if we never were

I just don’t understand Sir

You turned your back

Understanding was the lack

No explanation

Of your final destination

FKF were the words you relayed

All along I was getting played

Like a thief in the night

You became completely out of sight

For my kids and I you could care less

Our Family...Our Brand you made a mess

I would have never imagined I must confess

My downfall was your pre-meditation

Sadly this became my realization

Fighting back the tears

From all the invested years

I stood the test of time

Always putting forth my last dime

Chivalry was a stranger

My heart was in danger

No fairy-tale here

Yet happily ever after was and is my claim to fame

You and I

We are not the same

My soul you attempted to eliminate

But to God I began to gravitate

Adjusting to the new equation

I minus you equals peace squared

Peace will forever more be my addend and sum

Doesn’t take rocket science

You added pain

Multiplied sorrow

Subtracted the very essence of me

The me God intended for me to be

Every situation-ship

Relationship too comes with a lesson and at times a cost

It is the hope that you don’t find yourself lost

Not knowing the very core of your own individuality

The stakes are high

I cannot deny

Everything presented I now see was a lie

Sometimes I just thought I would die

This death had to occur

So that my rebirth and reprogram could occur

Enigmatic Mahogany Bio

Born in Birmingham, Alabama, as far back as she can remember Enigmatic Mahogany has been writing poetry to express her innermost emotions. She delivered her first oral presentation as a freshman at Tennessee State University where she studied Speech Communications Theater, Radio and Television. During her time at Tennessee State University she created an event entitled XpressionZ, in which she provided a platform for all artists to express themselves in various genres. Expressing herself would turn out to be the thing Mahogany does best. Whether expressing herself through her poetic pen, via music, or hosting radio broadcasts like Lady L In The Wet Zone for WTST Radio.

It was following obtaining her Bachelors Degree at Tennessee State University, that Mahogany began to fully pursue her innermost passion - poetry. XpressionZ, an online group established on Facebook, was re-birthed as a platform for artists to express themselves. After becoming more familiar with Facebook and the various venues provided for poets worldwide Mahogany began to incorporate online radio shows as part of tapping into her passion and honing in on her craft. It is during this time of exploring her abilities that various doors began to open. She found herself serving as Social Chapter President of the world recognized P.O.E.T. (People Of Extraordinary Talent) organization P.O.E.T. is one of the most elite entertainment groups in the mid-west for Spoken Word Poetry. Not only did she hold the position of Social Chapter President, but 2013 and 2014, Mahogany also worked with P.O.E.T.’s National Poetry Award Winning Radio Station as its station manager and host of the show “Inspirational XpressionZ”, which aired weekly over the web and mobile devices. The broadcast gave artists from near and far an opportunity to inspire others with their 

Poem 35. 29.3.20

SILVER LINING

By H Biali

A sharp blow was dealt

our Civilization,

it is felt in every Nation,

Life as we know it

has come to a virtual Halt,

whether by evil machination

or natural mutation,

Mankind suffers losses

beyond any imagination

of just a few weeks ago!

However, the Human Spirit

rises to this occasion

of Lockdown, Scarcities,

Sickness and Isolation!

Kindness, Community Spirit,

Helpfulness and

new Appreciation

of simple things happen

in many different locations!

We pray, meditate and postulate

that Gaia, with Fauna, Flora,

Water and Air is with us onto

Healing and Regeneration!

Narrated by Sophia Behal

Hello, poets unplugged and anyone listening this is going to be something a little different...the first in what might be a series on Poets Unplugged, and an opportunity for other sculptors and artists.

I’m a poet, writer, sculptor—and this episode is about sculpture.

What I’m asking you to do is go to a website, and I’ll talk about each piece of ten sculptures for a few seconds

not long ten-twelve seconds each

l’ve got so much stuff on the site that it could take forever so I’ll just do the first ten pieces, okay?

the website address is wisesculpture.com

(spell wisesculpture)

while you’re looking up the site, I’ll just tell you a little about my work—it’s mostly welded steel. I use anything weldable and some material that’s not—like glass, rubber, wood.

And it usually happens in the process. The materials guide me. The steel tells me what to do.

A dallas art magazine called me a cross between John Chamberlain and Rube Goldberg. I like that. A lot of my work looks like it’s going to do something in the next few seconds—like you maybe should get out of the way.

you should be able to just google wisesculpture.com or you can put www in front of it, either way it’ll get there

now when you get to the site a popup will...pop up, and you can subscribe if you want to

the red car is my hot rod cruiser, 1949 ford with a 1988 mercury engine. A sculpture all in itself to us car guys.

it’s like the car I had in high school a very very long time ago

anyway, get that out of the way by either signing up, or clicking the X in the upper right hand corner

Then you’ll see the first piece of sculpture.

it’s non representational.

but it’s as good a use of space as anything I’ve ever done.

It’s part of a car, some chrome, part of a road sign.

Click anywhere to the right of it, or on that little sign that says next.

Number two is called Benelli because it uses a part of a Bennelli motorcycle.

It’s a wall hanging, stainless steel, about one foot by 18 inches.

next

Three is a rocket ship.

It’s about two feet tall.

It was to be in a solo show in Kansas City but a guy walked in, saw it in a corner where I’d unloaded it, bought it on the spot for his son who was a rocket scientist in Los Angeles.

Four

This is called Tyke’s Gatling. All of this stuff is welded steel, most of it.

This one is in a gallery in Santa Monica.

Five. Blue horse and blue wagon.

He’s uncomfortable on that wagon. And pissed at me for putting

him there.

Six. Inspired by Louise Nevelson. She’s a genius. Look her up.

I Call this one monochromatic. People don’t get it. I love this one.

Gallery goers don’t even look at it.

Maybe they think it’s part of the HVAC.

Seven

Balanced investments. This was a commission for an outfit called Frontier Wealth Management and it’s in their lobby. It’s about fifteen feet long. Can you find the airport landing light?

Eight

Hommage a Baron Samedi. He was the new Orleans voodoo guy.

About four feet tall. It has a couple of real pistols in it, what they called Saturday night specials, a necklace, an art deco lighter, an I.D. bracelet, a laudanum bottle, 30’s stuff.

Nine

Cutting Cane.

Made from a Tupelo tree from the Louisiana bayou, and a cane cutter.

And Ten

A wall hanging made from auto metals and a spotlight.

Hope you enjoyed the tour. Keep going—there are a lot more.

Any questions, comments, use the comment form on the site—I always answer.

Thanks for listening and watching.

Stay safe and well.

'To The Trees' a terza rima by Caroline Burrows @VerseCycle

‘To The Trees’

a Terza Rima

by Caroline Burrows @VerseCycle

Cycling home, the road levels out,

But rising anxiety sends

Me round bends, to where there’s less doubt,

To the trees I regard as friends,

Who line the off-road travelled less.

One branch to another extends,

Leaves whisper their soothing caress,

Their green sanctuary easing stress.

Poet's Bio:

Caroline Burrows @VerseCycle is a writer of poetry, prose: fiction and non-fiction.  Her poetry has featured on the Bristol Festival of Ideas website, and she has been published in ‘Palm-Sized Press’, the Lancaster One Minute Monologue: 2019 collection, and Cycle UK magazine.  She holds an MA in Creative Writing and regularly performs her work live.  Her work can be found on YouTube/Twitter/IG: @VerseCycle

A Secret Garden

In a land said to exist.

In a town suggested by faith.

On a street where nobody lives –

is a house that may or may not be there.

And a garden of possibilities.

Where grows the fruit of imagination.

Where potential blossoms, rain a sweet water.

A garden tended with subtlety and care.

Where the bee prospers and sun lingers

and none shall starve for the want of beauty

By Bruce McRae

Sophia Behal wrote this instrumental song in 2018.

She is the producer of this unique peace of music.

So, evryone, turn it on enjoy and listen again and again.

We also aprecciate if you post our podcast into your social media stream.

Please make a post like this: 

We are PoetsUnplugged Podcast https://anchor.fm/PoetsUnplugged also available on www.poetsunplugged.com

We offer FREE marketing for Authors, Books and Poets. Please contact me for further information at PoetsUnplugged@usa.com.

Thank you, Sophi

The rain drop

As the rain drops on my head,

it cools my tensed up scalp,

and trickles down my head.

Descending upon my face,

touching my forehead,

eyelids, cheeks and chin,

dry.

Impoverished!

It waits there till it next falls on my bosom,

plum yet suckled.

It follows my stomach

and my womb that breeds life,

and flows through my legs up to my feet.

All thirsty and unfed.

The little drop tries

to cure my needy body’s ailments

But it can’t

owing to its small size,

And yet it tries!

It tries to feed the skin,

n which many fed,

it tries to quench the thirst-

seldom met,

until it too vanishes within the earth

alike thousands of such explorers!

About the author

Sukanya Basu Mallik is a multi-genre author, film and book critic. Her works have been published in various journals, magazines, and anthologies nationally and internationally including Reader’s Digest,Times Of India,Sahitya Akademi Bimonthly Journal, Lucidity Int.Poetry Journal, SEAL (South East Asian Literature) festival anthologies and AIPF Int. Anthology (Austin International Poetry

Festival). She has also received a number of awards; The Best Manuscript Awards for fiction & non-fiction categories (Mumbai Litofest, Literature Festival 2018)etc. Her short story ‘Healing of wounds’ has been awarded a certificate of merit by

National Children’s Literature Festival led by eminent author, Ruskin Bond. Her latest

releases include Mocktail and#Metoo. Her movie reviews have been published in various newspapers and journals of repute like 'Just film' magazine, Different truths,'Creation and Criticism'

ISSN: 2455-9687(A Quarterly International Peer-reviewed Refereed e-Journal Devoted to English Language and Literature) and many more. Her research paper 'Voicing of perspective through creativity – an in-depth analysis of Devika Das’s works'. has been published by 'The Expression: An International Multidisciplinary e-Journal', ISSN: 2395-4132 (Online)| A Peer-Reviewed Journal |

People of this world Let's pray. Together we are strong.

This is a poem about the coronavirus. This fact is surely not letting anyone's feelings untouched. People yes, we are worried but they already found something like a vaccine. A chines coupe was released from the hospital and lives as corona-survivers on this planet. The Poem is written by Sophia Behal. Please repost and share everywhere. Thank you. OneLove

UNDEAD POETRY  themed poetry written by a vampire.

Read by Sean van Dutch

Written by S. Behal

This is a little sneak peak into my new children's book Smile Poem Feel. Take a free sneak peak to listen to excerpts of the book.

Please check into www.Souphistication.Tumblr.com for information on where to purchase the audiobook, the paperback and the ePub. 

Thank you & Enjoy!

Please vote for this poem on this webpage:

located above the poem is a Star-rating. Please vote and rate the poem. Thank you.

https://spillwords.com/nyc-lights/

In Words:

written by: Sophia Behal

The World round?
Or flat as Ground?

Interlaced everywhere,
connected and bound.

I see you - a stare,
We, You & I, are
supposed to be,
physical energy.

I see you - a star,
We, You & I, are
infinite glare,
NYC I swear.

Connects everywhere,
my tear rolls around.

crystal clear
is my tear
what’s about
synergy found
Eternally -in the sound.
Enlightenment -we found.

We, You & I,
is who love I.

Copyrighted 2019

soon to be released in a mini album as part of a Book Release. The Book is going to be published by mid. February, and is the second Book, Book 2 out of a  Series.  the name is ¨My Poetry: Undead Poetry¨ and the poems are written by a Vampire. - no coffin cuddliers but old bats - so called supreme beings flight the night skies and feel so much more then we even could imagine ;) This second Book of The Series is a collection of Poems written and narrated by Sean Van Dutch a Vampire. He was turned without his own consent and writing poetry is the only thing making him feel like a human again. 

Poets Unplugged is a podcast for poets, writers and their fans (readers/listeners) to share work of art. The Work presented shall include poetry, pros-a, plays, poems, songs and lyrics, hymns, psalms, stories, essays, and screenplays, for both modern and traditional genres. Violence, hate propaganda, porno, racist comments, views or propaganda are not allowed. Violators or bullies will be reported without exception immediately. Causes related to poetry, personal self-awareness or social consciousness are allowed.