Open-Mic-Poetry

Little Life Left By J.C. Solis I do not have now much longer to live I’ve already given what I could give I do not know what awaits for me now As the curtains close and I take a bow What I did in life had no consequence The good I’d do with no second thought hence I want to know whether I will mourned Whether in good grace or filled with great scorn Just know that I die accepting Death’s call Because, in the end, the Grim comes for all Just know I was happy with what I had Filled with emotions, from Sad, Mad, and Glad As I take this bow and descend to the grave Just know that I join Death with a heart brave…

nature would appear to be Darwinian but details in the woods and scrub suggest a treasure trove of roaming rampant missives hid in hollows like a lantern largely lit to keep the howling void at bay AND still retained as weighty balance.........

Once upon a time, in the quaint town of Evergreen, a feral kitten with a coat as wild as the forest itself wandered into the life of a kind-hearted man named Doug. He discovered her one chilly morning, her soft mews echoing through the stillness, and named her Crazy Cat in homage to her untamable spirit. Doug and Crazy Cat quickly formed an unbreakable bond. As the years passed, Doug's life blossomed – he moved from a cramped apartment to a beautiful house with a flourishing garden and married Jonnette, a gentle soul deeply connected to nature and magic through her practice of Wicca. Jonnette found solace in Crazy Cat's presence and soon noticed the extraordinary abilities the feline possessed. Jonnette adored Crazy Cat and understood that the cat had unusual abilities. Crazy Cat could come and go as she pleased, without any doors being opened for her, and she was an extraordinary hunter. Crazy Cat moved with an ethereal grace displaying a prowess that bordered on the mystical.

let me down, lift me up; it makes no difference. What I want is to feel anything at all. I'm addicted to the roller coaster of pleasure and pain, plateau not for me, reach for the heavens

feeling alone in a crowded room and then I found you two people hand and hand fighting the powers that be A lone flame become stronger, you are my one and only, the light at the end of my tunnel, and I hope you'll be the death of me

Chaos in order Order, in a way, is only the patterns we recognise. Perhaps chaos is in order, yet we do not fully realise. Human mind, ever analytical, to show what's nominal and familiar. Distinguished from the strange, deviating and peculiar. The best of reasons sought for, indeed, beauty and spontaneity. Described, most accurately and uniquely, for the beholders’ eye to see. Chaos, defined by its antonym, revealing our very ignorance. When things are not in order, unintended and with innocence. Not fitting our minds' desire, or as we think how they should be. The exception proving the rule, or does it, the contrary? Edited and written by Piezometric Poetry on 28-10-2023 Poem artwork:

Cause and a fact Knowing the cause, doesn’t change the fact. Except in future perchance, when actions have impact. In a time past present moment, that allows to alter the conclusion. And prior knowledge provided, can enter into the solution. Edited and written by Piezometric Poetry on 13-03-2024 Poem artwork

Sleepless Insomnia By J.C. Solis The night carries on with such lack of sleep For one cannot reach such sweet dreams so deep For Insomnia bogs me down as so The moon now hovers, causes dreadful woe And this little rest is what I now reap I am, sadly, restless within this night And I, sadly, wait till the dawn of light As my mind cannot find beautiful rest I await this sleepless sorrow For now, I await the coming of sleep Beneath my blankets, wrapped in heaps And my exhausted eyes, their red does show And this sleepless curse, its wrath I now know I’m awake till my alarm starts to beep I await the coming sorrow This is My Insomnia, through and through Such a terrible state that makes me rue The Sun now rises, the night is now dead As I lay in shambles atop my bed And there is just nothing that I can do And with this New Day that now lay ahead I slumber in day, and so put down my head And there is just nothing that I can do I await the sleepless sorrow…

The beaver builds her dam with skill and care, Creating a home where her family can thrive, The lion has its den where it can roam, A place of peace where it can rest and be free, The robin makes her nest in a tree so high, A safe haven for her young to grow and fly. Bees live in hives, buzzing with life, Working together to keep their home secure, The bear retires to its cave, a place of solitude, Where it can hibernate through the long, cold nights, Gophers, rabbits, and moles all find solace, In the safety of their holes, hidden from the world. All creatures have families they hold dear, A place they feel is home, a sanctuary of sorts, The animals of the forest, simple and true, Do not claim to have a soul or need a higher power, They live in harmony, without greed or envy, Content with the life they have been given. They do not strive to be admired or adored, Nor do they seek to be superior to one another, They do not change themselves to fit societal norms, Or seek validation

Yours is a stupefying talent honed Transforming love galore to eldritch founts With every valiant virtue all dethroned And you entrenched atop the gory mounts Grotesque abominations sink their teeth in; flay my mind and leave infected scars Of hatred, anger, self-detest beneath; By blood and tears and tissue tainted memoirs This gruesome dance macabre never ends While you are perched upon your throne of gold Your potent magic my love’s essence bends As you command to firm the blighted hold Are you content extinguishing one’s fire To taint and watch one drowning in one’s mire?

The faeries and elves Steal a changeling child on A midsummer's night. Titania and Oberon, The lovers, Mechanicals.

Twenty years 10 million minutes, in 7 thousand and 300 days. That’s a lot of moments, no matter what anyone says. Months 240, with seven quarter, hundred thousand hours. In that time you gained, All these skills and powers. Forty plus one thousand, Weeks of seven long. Ever moving forward, Reminiscing with a song. Two decades and four lustrums, Reason to celebrate per tradition. Yet on a day-to-day basis, One doesn’t notice the transition. Edited and written by Piezometric Poetry on 11-10-2023

tiny cuts into lacerations take what you want from me leave nothing behind but a whisper of misery

The feeling of tender lips that gently touch each other And hands that softly glide over bodies Laughing and crying together Loving embraces All in memory Faded, forgotten The feeling of a tender kiss And hands that softly glide over bodies What was that again? German version: Das Gefühl von zarten Lippen, die einander sacht berühren Und Hände, die sanft über Körper streichen Gemeinsames Lachen und Weinen Liebevolle Umarmungen Alles in Erinnerungen Verblasst, Vergessen Das Gefühl von einem zarten Kuss und Händen, die über Körper streichen Wie war das noch gleich?

Autumn wheeze Sniffing, wheezing, cough galore. In the train you hear it all the more. Far from safe, the travellers be, Also at work, in school, nowhere to flee! Coinciding with chilly autumn breeze. Aerosols flying, propelled with a whirling sneeze. Following a rampantly random trajectory. Uneasy, slimy, your distance, keep it please. Perhaps what I need is: a protective dome. Steer clear of me, or better yet: Work from your comfy home! Edited and written by Piezometric Poetry on 14-10-2022