Poem #341

I guess my pain is like candy,
when you like tasting it so much.
At least something about me is sweet.

But I stay thinking there’s something
worth fighting for here.
Maybe I just want to be worth that fight.

I will stop asking, I will stop searching for your affection.
Just to see if it will still be there.
At the end of the day,
love you have to ask for never feels like love in the end.


Poem #340

I only write about love because it was all
I have been looking for in life.
But it is so hard to recognize It in a world
that wants everything defined and in line. 

want to stand on my own two feet,
but I still want you to save me.
want a kiss on the shoulder over morning coffee,
and have my back arch against wall. 

don’t want it comfortable and defined.
want it inconvenientpassionate and alive
Romance and lust dancing together under the stars
giving life to passion and to desire 

All should be love, addictive and wild.
Silence and noise at once.
Chaos and peace intertwined. 
Nights you stay up opening your soul
and nights you lose all control. 

Poem #339

You are a gift that keeps on giving.
Giving light, love, poems and heart.

Even after you were gone, I was pulling
the ribbons, uncovering new dimensions to our story.

You left a love that lingers, touch that’s
forever present and a soul filled with desire.
For that I still write, for that I still hug my pillow at night
for that I look for someone to burn with me the way you have.

For you, because of us, I still believe in love.


Poem #338

This feeling that only feels liberating in
shackles. The room that gets smaller and
smaller, eating away the oxygen.
The 24/7 panic attack that begins when you
decide to lock away your heart.

You just wanted to give your heart a break
after it has been broken. Now you forgot how
to use it, you are running away from its purpose.

Poem #337

The touch was something like silk.
The taste was that of sugar,
but even more addictive.
You felt like home, like peace.

I spent days writing then rushing
my fingers through paper
hoping to catch a glimpse of your face
somewhere between my words.

I think I was trying to recreate you,
but I don’t know how to recreate a feeling.
It was like a summer morning with a pinch of salt
in the air and hot sand between my toes.

I got lost between the palm trees,
wandered around the buildings,
spent my days climbing the mountains.
Are you looking for me as well?


Simon was famous on Facebook
Had hundreds of friends in his life
Yet no one he actually spoke to
No buddies, no girlfriend, no wife.

His success was repeated on Twitter
One million followers plus
But he came to a violent ending
Knocked down by the number nine bus.

The money he made from his adverts
Was left to his favourite quartet
And mum organised a huge funeral
For all of his friends on the net.

Though no one showed up, not a sausage
To see Simon the Superstar off
In reality, he was as popular
As a man with a bad Covid cough.

So, if you are an internet wizard
With a wit that’s as sharp as a knife
Don’t forget to engage with real people
Get up and get out, get a life.

My name is Hobbo and my website is www.hobbospoems.com
I come from Yorkshire in the UK and my poems give a quirky and humorous look at life.


If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

Inspire me Coffee, Please?

I’m sitting in my cafe

Wanting some inspire
Staring at me coffee
Waiting brain to fire

Hello? I feel ignition?
Neurons taking off
Telling me to write about
My cappuccino froth

What a load of twaddle…

Sorry readers....

Don Matthews
September 2020

I am an Australian writer.  In ‘Flippant, Comic. and Serious’ I focus on humour, offbeat poetry, and exploring things different.   http://www.donmatthewspoetry.com


If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

Dead on arrival

Hear the engine scream
In this familiar hazy dream
Eighty, ninety — it’s all a blur
All these thoughts of her

Racing through the night
Unable to see the light
Completely out of control
Chaotic misery the goal

This car is past its limit
Glad I’m strapped in it
Expecting to go up in flames
No regrets, remorse, or names

Hurtling through the dark city
Blind from self-loathing pity
No brakes until the car gives out
And rolls to a stop, no doubt

I reach for another bottle
Already at full throttle
Not looking to slow down
Tired of wearing this crown

Teetering well past the brink
It’s time for one last drink
How long is the wick of a candle
Let’s see if this car can handle

The bridge is coming up quick
Shit, I’m starting to feel sick
Tachometer stuck in the red
Crash, bang, burn — I’m dead…

The angels surveyed the wreck
They were there to do their check
“Is this one worth keeping alive?”
“He continues to drink and drive.”

Huddled around to study the cases
Verdict written on their sad faces
Choices caught up to me that day
As my soul began to float away.

My name is Jason S. Sullivan. I’m a writer / poet from Arlington, Texas. Check out my other poetry at JasonSSullivan.com.


If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

Coffee Date with Luna: Addicted to the Noise

Hello everyone!

I rose from the dead, here I am actually blogging on my own blog. My last few weeks have been quite interesting and when I say interesting, I mean numbingly painful but I am still working through that bullshit. When I say that I rose from the dead I mean it.

Forgot to say, welcome to another Coffee Date with Luna. Depending on when I actually publish this, might be time for warm milk before bedtime with Luna, but that’s beside the point.

Growing up in domestic violence (what a lovely way to start a blog post), you cannot function in silence or in a lot of noise which is more common for such environment. When there was noise, when we were fighting or my father was chasing us around the house trying to beat us, I heard something and I knew that everyone was alive and conscious if they were speaking. Silence would sometimes be comforting, especially on those rare night when I wouldn’t go to bed listening to my father’s drunk rants about how he’s going to burn the house down while we sleep in it. But there’s this other thing that you start fearing about silence and it’s silence itself. I would often catch myself enjoying some moments of peace and quiet to only then be awaken by the thought that someone is hurt or that my father randomly fell somewhere while he was drunk and broke his neck. Yes people, welcome to my childhood thoughts. Don’t worry, he is still alive and back then he was mostly sleeping on the couch or the floor because he was too drunk to make it to bed.

This fear of silence made me into a person that constantly has to have noises around me. While I was living alone in Zadar, I always had music playing in the background or the TV was on. If I was going to the store, I had my headphones in. I had a playlist for bedtime. Music would be playing while I would get ready in the morning or while I was under the shower. And this routine continued.

Do you know what this does to you? It takes away your time to self-reflect and think about your problems and fears by constantly distracting your brain. I do not know how to be in silence or allow my brain to just process situations. I let everything build up inside of me until I become so emotionally unstable that I get depressed. And you want to know something? YOU ALL FUCKING DO IT AS WELL.

We live in a climate where we are encouraged to constantly be distracted by all types of shit. Our phones are always buzzing with notifications, there’s always someone talking, there’s always a new show to watch, news to keep up with etc. We all suffer from FOMO (fear of missing out). We are so caught up in this era of smart devices and constant noises that we forget about the whole world that’s inside each and every one of us.

I finished reading G. Steinem’s book called Revolution from Within. There’s a part where she speaks about people being healed emotionally and physically by coming back to nature. Do you know what nature is? Quiet. When was the last time when I enjoyed spending time in nature? When I was a kid, I used to run around and climb trees because being on a high tree with the fear of falling and breaking something was safer than being inside my house. Ever since I was liberated from domestic abuse, I gravitated towards the city, the noise, the constant distractions. The only thing that changes this for me is the proximity of the sea. I have a very special bond with the sea but I don’t spend much time on the seaside.

What I’ve come to realize lately, as I’ve been spending more time at home with my mom, is that this running away from my childhood and my inner self has produced a very negative side effect. I lost my memory or suppressed it so hard that I cannot remember years and years of my life. If something were to happen to my mother (God forbid), I would lose years of my life because she is literally the only person that can tell me what happened at certain points. I just don’t remember but that’s a problem for another post. I am researching this issue currently.

This is what being addicted to distractions and to noise brought me. I forgot who I was, do not like to think about who I am or what I wish to be. In this world of noises, I think it’s time for me to put the volume down and go back to me, listen to what I have to say and go through the pain and the thoughts and the memories for as long as it takes to process everything.

In a world that doesn’t want us to think, it’s hard to take that step. It’s not a step out of a comfort zone. It’s more like a jump of a cliff but we have to see it as a leap of faith, a return to the natural, to the human, to the raw part of life that was here before the noise and before devices that became smarter than us.

There is catharsis to be found in books, art, music and creation but there’s truth to be found in the world that’s inside of us. We came to the world naked, screaming and without shame. Let’s not leave it hidden, silenced and manipulated.

Sending love and positive vibes,



The life of an underprivileged…

My life begins under a tree ,
Not even in a hospital ,
I don’t even have enough clothes to wear ,
My condition is really critical ……..
Bless me God please God
Since years l am waiting for the nod !!!!!!

I only have to fill myself with water ,
I am the most underprivileged daughter …..
My mother is a beggar ,
My father is a cobbler !!!
Bless me God please God ,
Since years l am waiting for the nod !!!!!

I pray to God l get some money ,
As it hears it’s not that funny ….
I usually spend my day crying alone ,
How to spend my childhood ?
I don’t even have money to afford a balloon !!!!!
Bless me God please God ,
Since years l am waiting for the nod !!!!!

In a year or two my hands will be cut off ,
And l will go begging for money all around …….
I am hungry give me something to eat ,
I wish for a mattress , l just don’t like the ground !!!
Bless me God please God,
Since years l am waiting for the nod !!!

I even pray to God for the poor stray dogs ,
For me they are just like God ,
Only they give me something to eat ,
What they find on the old woody street !!!!
Bless me God please God ,
Since years l am waiting for the nod!!!!

I pray for the welfare of all human beings ,
In the next life l wish to be happy , l think l should keep seeing …..
l don’t want to be rich just want some money ,
Even you pray for me buddy !!!!!
Bless me God please God ,
Since years l am waiting for the nod !!!!! Bless me !!!!

Blog http://kripaaluthra.wordpress.com/

About : hey … this is Kripaa… a thirteen year old .. from India ( the city of taj  : Aga ) through my poems I wish to bring a change … a change in society… a change in the world … I haven’t written a book nor am a famous author but still hoping for you to enjoy !!! If you like it don’t forget to follow !! Waiting for your likes , comments and subscriptions!!


If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com