Poets Refuge

Winter

2011-10-08T02:14:00.000-07:00

Winter

White beauty is falling from the heavens.
The ground is covered by its grace.
Everything is pure white.

The silence has consumed the day.
Peace has stabbed our souls.
The trees crack as cold embrace them.

The sun shines over the whit snow.
The ice shines as the sun goes down.
The cold red lights of the sun fade away in the snow.

Night comes to the land.
Cold strikes the ground.
And snow, the snow continues to fall.

Winter winds blow out side.
The snow covers all.
And all becomes white.

by ~willyoudieforme

On the Spotlight: Jaf Liethers

2011-10-07T04:18:00.000-07:00

Jaf Liethers is an experimental poet on DeviantArt and has a self-proclaimed Ph. D as an "Ego Enhancement Consultant". For more info, visit: http://jafnsyxx.deviantart.com/

Thank you for taking the time for this interview despite our gaping time difference.
Does today, Poe's death anniversary, make you wonder how society might commemorate you after you have passed on?

It certainly does! Edgar Allan Poe is a huge influence and inspiration in most of my works. What do you think should be written over my tombstone, "Extinct" or "I'd prefer if you ungrateful stalkers celebrated my genius, not my stuffed toy-induced demise."?

What's the most appropriate word to describe you?

"Rabble-rouser". It's an intangible fact supported by laws of nature and my existence...and my cockiness. Can't help it.

Out of all your works, what is your personal favorite and can you tell us something about it?

At the moment it is "L'homme en Verre Teinté" (The man stained in glass). It's a prose I had written anonymously (well, not anymore) because I found it overpoweringly blasphemous. It's about the sacrilegious scorns of a man who, after a fruitless search for god, razed all his beliefs. Everyday he found himself praying, calling out to god, only to realize he himself was the only one listening. Then he just assumed he was god.

Do you relate to "L'homme en verre teinte" and have you ever lost your faith?

Similarly, I find my religion very demanding but no, I've never lost my faith, per se. I just grow consistently impatient waiting for someone I am required to believe in. We all have those days - when obstacles arise, we say "HEY, maybe this Rosary is out of order" or "What was I thinking, of course 100 Hail Maries weren't enough!" but we never, never question his existence or his will.

Do you look up to any other poets?

There are countless! But most essentially Edgar Allan Poe, Oscar Wilde, Arthur Rimbaud and Pablo Neruda. I grew up reading Shel Silverstein's works and they served as a push to my interest in poetry.

Which classical poet would you associate your poetic side with?

Perhaps, Shakespeare in the purest sense that our works are often misinterpreted and praised due to these misconceptions. If Shakespeare were alive today, I bet he'd be an avid contributor at Cracked.com; he hid dirty jokes in his poetry and these were assumed to be romantic. I'd describe the features of a dull, empty refrigerator and again they'd consider it romantic.

Where do you find writing ideas?

Everywhere! They just come, and when they do I just stop what I'm doing, put my headphones on, ignore the world, and write away. This is why my Filipino class teacher hates me.

What encouraged you to pursue this form of art?

Poetry, just like everything else I do, started with interest and curiosity. I'd gone through a dark period of my life and writing helped me survive. Scratch that, I'm not sure if I'm completely on the other side yet. It's a dark winding tour of the world's ass which I call Jaf's Renaissance.

Do you have any non-literature creative activities?

There's music, sketching, and I pride myself for eating quite artfully! I indulge in numerous activities which are nowhere in the same ZIP code as "creative". I'm also one for the languages and I like learning something different every now and then.

What is one thing that surely continues to inspire you as a poet?

One thing? The thing about my inspiration is it's impossibly inconsistent. Dynamic! One moment it's my love interest, the next, it's a bottle of apple juice staring at me. I don't know, really. I'm not even sure I'm a poet! Right now, all I am sure of is....English.

Jaf Liethers is truly an inspiring and witty individual. We hope that Jaf continues to amaze us with poems.

Read more of this interview in our Literary Magazine, Poets' Refuge Issue No. 43.

Question

2011-10-02T01:57:00.000-07:00

Question.

Does she do that thing you like?
Does she scratch down inner thighs,
Does she moan softly in to your mouth,
While she stares deep in to your eyes?

Does she hold you like she wants you?
Does she kiss along your jaw,
Does she get down on her knees
for Sir, and plead and beg for more?

Does she wear those black heels for you?
Is she leather bound and tied?
Will she let you cut off all her clothes
to get to the whore inside?

Does she take the pain you give her?
Does she bow and serve you well?
Does she give you that glimpse of heaven,
And then take you straight to hell?

Does she screw you just like I do?
My problem is, you see,
The next time you sleep over there,
In your mind you'll be fucking me.

by: (Miss_Sub)

Lust or the Lord

2011-09-29T02:17:00.000-07:00

Lust or The Lord?

I would strip down out of my clothes
And expose my naked body,
that in the heat of lust
But would I undress my soul and
reveal my explicitly naked spirit
in order to gain His trust?
Could it be that my sexual infatuation
is what is blocking this relationship between us
And why is it that without hesitation
I’m quick to reach in my drawer
for that box of Trojan Sensations
But I don’t even care to have the patience
to open up and read the Word
It’s crazy..
I can yell “Daddy” all night long
Coerced moans stimulated by pleasure
But never do I once even bother to call on
My own Father to help make things better
And it’s a shame cuz
I’m quick to get it
For a good 55 minutes
And yeah it might be good
While dude is hittin it
but eventually he will get up and leave
and I’ll be left empty-handed
Then I’ll be back to being the no-man-bandit
Without even once caring to realize
That God has been laying there by my side
he doesn’t even get up and leave
In the middle of the night
No he’s not just some one night stand
He is forever with me
His love is everlasting
Time to time I question
why my sexual desire
is way much greater than
the need to acquire
a stronger craving for God.
So to this sinful, sexual lifestyle
Its going to have to be good-bye
Because a relationship with the Lord
Is one no other man
can even begin to satisfy

by Ashley Joseph
(AshleyJoseph)

On the Spotlight:Cherie Burbach

2011-09-19T02:04:00.000-07:00

Cherie Burbach specializes in relationships and helping people to connect. She is the About.com Guide to Friendship and has penned eleven books and ebooks, including Internet Dating Is Not Like Ordering a Pizza and 21 Ways to Promote Your Book on Twitter. She has published over 500 articles on the subjects of health, sports, and lifestyle. For more info, visit her website, CherieBurbach.com.

How did you develop a passion for writing?

My mom says I’ve been writing since I could hold a pencil, and I think that’s true. My desire to write was always present and God given, since the time I was a kid.

Where do you find writing ideas?

Everywhere! I’m one of those people who is always scribbling in a notebook, in addition to pounding away at the keyboard.

What’s helped most in honing your writing craft?

Actively writing every day and reading.

Who inspires you?

I get inspired by so many people.

Jesus is my biggest inspiration.

His word, his actions… they have deep meaning for me. I enjoy reading about people, how they overcome the trials in their life, how they work toward their goals, and how they find happiness.

What are some of your passions?

Writing, painting, reading, cooking… anything creative. I enjoy solving problems and reaching goals. I’m very passionate about sharing my life experiences in a way that can help others. If I had one overall passion it would be to improve the lives of women who have dealt with abuse at the hands of people that should have loved them unconditionally. I want every woman to know her worth.

How can bloggers write better?

Write daily, not just when you feel like it. Blog like it’s your job, and your natural voice will come through.

How much time do you spend writing?

During the week, I try and spend half my day writing, and the other half doing things like promotion, website maintenance, client “stuff” (like meeting new people, billing, etc.). I write every day although some days are lighter than others. Weekdays are all about my client and blogging work, and weekends are for poetry and fiction projects.

Absinthe

2011-08-18T02:11:00.000-07:00

Absinthe

Absinthe-soaked eyes cheat despair
in drowsy green tides of vertigo
men have sought rare divinities fair
such, I discovered in the only shape I know

smoking fountains I shall gulp by storm
'til shadows kiss the bitter clouds gone
In such strong spirits, you take eternal form
translucent…timeless…untouched by the sun

Let my straying arms shape your waist
disrobing you of inanimateness
to those lascivious lips, allow me a taste
to smooth away our hearts' distress
alive as my fingers trace your flesh
streaming ecstasy in your gracile frame
free from the sober mortal mesh
Life replies intimately to your name
a finer mentor than the blood I shed
a vow to express what can't be sweetly said

I love you, my sweet, seek not why
an unpassioned beauty is life if we part
Absinthe-shut eyes shan't weave lies
but translate the prose of my heart

by ~JafnSyxx

Interview with ~GoldenLeaves

2011-05-24T01:59:00.000-07:00

A deviously deviant of only two years, Fiona Eve of France (~Golden-Leaves) has put quite a dent in our Devaintart Community. Her gallery consists of an astounding collection of poetry, as well as anywhere from photography to traditional media. I was lucky enough that she had time to come online and interview her, she is a very interesting individual.

Do you have any non-literature creative activities?
I indulge in classical music, singing, hiking, nature activities, and drawing. I also love languages, and teaching myself.

When did you first start writing? What encouraged you to write or express yourself in this form of art?
I first started writing since I was able to write, in elementary school. I was a really creative, imaginative little kid, and it was wonderful to write down my thoughts and express myself in that way. My dad also served as an inspiration as well, writing poetry his whole life, himself.

Is there any type of poetry that you like to write more then the other types?
I love writing classical poetry, such as sonnets. Dark poetry (with a sad, sweet touch) is also a favorite.

What inspires you to write?
Everything and anything! A sad movie, a hug from my sister, a storm outside, or just plain silence.

Do you write for yourself or for those around you? Have you ever written a poem that was too personal to post on DA? What was it like?
Some poems are for myself, some are for others. But when I think about it, ALL of my poems could be for someone else, since people relate to most of them.
I wrote a poem once, describing the things I disliked about myself. It was very brutal and harsh, and I decided not to post it on dA. There have been others, of course, not posted, but they were mostly to do with family and personal things I don't want people to read.

Do you have any other poets that you look up to?
Oh, yes. My favorite is Emily Dickinson, along with John Donne, Robert Frost, Shakespeare, and Shelley. Oh! And my father, as well.

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you get out of that art block?
Yes, I've had art blocks. When that happens, I don't force it. If I'm not feeling inspired, or lousy about myself, than nothing I write will be any good. I'm just patient, and wait until it comes to me.

What would you say to someone who starting to write poetry? Do you have any pointers?
- don't tell yourself you can't write. you may never be published or famous, but if writing poetry helps express your heart's feelings, than go for it!
- READ! mon dieu, if people only knew how much inspiration and help I get from classic authors, or well-written poetry. Better yet, you have a greater command of vocabulary, and can use words in rhyming with much more ease.
- if you want to write less-descriptive poetry, the choose less than ten words (that may or may not be similar with each other), and write your poem using ONLY those words in as creative a way as possible.

Is there else that you would like to add?
No, other than "thank you" for letting me do this, and a big smile to everyon e in the group out there. You're all poets, whether you think so or not!

She is a truly inspiring individual and we hope that she keeps on posting all of her amazing artwork for years to come.

Read poems by ~GoldenLeaves here.

Deep

2011-04-03T01:53:00.000-07:00

Deep

It starts as a heat from your burning loins
ends as a fiery longing as when our bodies join
erogenous and ethereal, her scent fills the room
once more, I can't move through shapes that loom
spiraling darkness in shifting red dusts
she descends to the pull of my sinful lust
kissing her neck, stroking her thighs
I longed for this thrilling, insatiable high
a seductive smile affixed with innocence
desecrated by my overpowering decadence

Suddenly, we're closer, with intentions clear
"I want to do terrible things to you, my dear"
I licked her lips as sweet as wine
she teased, "can your fingers move like mine?"
her touch so electric, so ardent around me
I pinned her on the spread forcibly
I penetrate two fingers deep inside
she crosses her legs in an attempt to hide
her hot...craving...flooding below
I descend for a taste I am yet to know
smoothly, I slid in my wanton tongue
I got too hot...had to come undone
the taste between her wet, tight flesh lingers
breathless was her devilish moan of pain & pleasure
begging, she pressed her clit against my face
to violate her harder in a thousand ways

roughly devouring her from the inside
as her steamy, heaving thighs spread wide
thrusts and screams; our ecstasy divine
she tightly wrapped her legs around mine
our naked skin more at home in this heat
our incessant bodies under the bloodied sheet.

by: Jaf Liethers
(obscure_enigma)

SHE IS...

2011-02-04T01:48:00.000-08:00

SHE IS...

She is all gentle gecko guile
And sweet serpent smiles;

A velvet massage of words
She wears on her heart like birds;

Against her soul's skin she weaves
Emotion from her fingers to her feet;

With the chestnut allure of her hair
She charms the Silence without a care;

In the mirror I see her wide doe-eyes
Scattering petals of every hue in the Sky;

A muse turning hurt into healing
With her pen inking out deep feeling;

She is the eclipse in a cauldron tossed
With inspiration, so eloquently flossed;

And I know her, I see her everyday,
She is me and with me she will stay.

by ~NocturneJewel

How I Measure Love

2010-10-08T02:07:00.000-07:00

How I Measure Love

You asked me how much I love you.
On a scale from one to ten.

I whispered, "Infinity."

Because if I took a brush,
dipped in our love,
and painted a line made of whispered wishes,
and passionate kisses,
and tried to measure how much I love you,
it would stretch to the outer reaches of the universe.

And everyone would see that line,
twisting and curving,
in shades of happy tears and butterfly wings,
and say that someone crazy must have spent all that time painting it.
Or someone in love.

It would cross oceans on the backs of fish,
and cover cities, countries, and continents,
eventually breaching the atmosphere,
to play connect the dots with the stars.
It would ricochet off comet tails,
and weave playfully between Saturn's rings.

It would paint the universe in colors,
vivid neons,
and pale pastels,
that people could see, when they looked up into the night sky.
Like the northern lights,
our love could light up the Heavens.

It would paint the tips of wheat plants,
dyeing the field in shades of swaying beauty.

It would coat the canopies of the tallest trees,
so you could only really see its artistry from the sky.

It would wind through lost mountain roads,
so that only the locals,
and young couples, lost in each others eyes,
could appreciate the delicacy of that one hidden spot.

The business men,
with their eyes only on their work,
would pause when they stumble across that line.
See something besides their next paycheck,
or the inside of their cubicle.
And maybe it would help them see that love can sometimes be more important than their salary.

And single mothers,
whose exasperated sighs,
are coated in spilled spaghetti,
and muddy feet,
will see it.
And maybe it will restore their faith that they can find beauty in the little things.

But only you and I will know what it really means,
when billions of people look up in the sky,
and wonder where it came from.
Only you and I will know its true meaning.

And when I've painted every corner of the universe,
traveled across this planet,
to the next,
I'll paint that line to you.

I'll knock on your door,
that paintbrush still dripping at my side,
and finally throw myself into your arms.

And as the paint dries,
in a figure eight around our bodies, held as one,
my line will finally be done.
Because the only path I needed to trace,
to show you how much I love you,
was the one that stretched from me to you.

by *SoImStillUnsure

Desire Poem

2010-10-08T01:45:00.000-07:00

Desire

A whispered secret in the hollow of your ear.
Though it be pleasurable, it is something you should fear.

Delicious essence of a pale soul
Calls my blood to your control.

Grim seduction tangled in mindful delusion
My sin lingers in the dew drop web of confusion.

Speak.
Hear.
Taste.

Swallowed remnant of absinthe continuously drips
A sweet cloying nectar from your lips.

Trace the gentle contours of given form.
Drink in the sensuous emotion we've borne.

Revel in the throes of tumulus rebellion
Twisting and falling into conscious oblivion.

Look.
Sense.
Want.

Listen as I tune my fine instrument
Upon fluttering heartstrings in gentle lament.

Mesmerize and memorize your raw desire
Reaction to fatal attraction of ice and fire.

Together our power becomes invincible
But one will succumb to the inevitable.

Possess.
Steal.
Destroy.

Forbidden contact an oracle cannot condone
For this precious act must be atoned.

Withered determination to quench the lust
Hungering eyes grasp for misguided trust.

Nemesis you may seek, yet am I the foe?
Body frozen in stale movement and left without an echo.

Wish.
Crave.
Desire.

by ~Apocolypse-Eternity

HERE IS MY HEART

2010-07-08T01:50:00.000-07:00

HERE IS MY HEART

Here is my heart, soft and simple its bleeding art,
existing in wishes and dreams that refuse to depart,
as I wait for you to see the entrails of my soul
lain before you in the bones of my poetry and prose,
won't you peel away the scales from your bright eyes
and see me as I am, naked under a heartbroken Sky?

Here is my heart, to you I give its every touchable beat
to cradle in your palm and caress away blistering deceit,
the lies others once threw upon me, soiling my wings,
but my innocence you undressed until I glistened clean,
now you wear me like a favorite melody through the smoke
as I come to you, sexualized by your every sweet stroke.

Here is my heart, to you I give my newness to take
far from where I live, where it will not easily break,
I will always feel your fingers flexing inside my shade
though soon you will be more than a caress away,
thoughts of you I will dwell with until I am insane
as I remember the pleasure we made from my pain.

Here is my heart, take it with you it's yours to keep
as you travel far and away from where I alone sleep,
stretching into another horizon so must be the road
taken, your onward friend but my wayward faithless foe,
I know not where you will be, drifting in another land free,
but I know wherever you are so will my heart forever be.

by ~NocturneJewel

Boozin' Blues

2010-02-14T02:20:00.000-08:00

Boozin' Blues

I got things
To do and to see today,
Headed to the Salvation Army
Tradin’ my stupid smilin’ days
For a twenty dollar
Night long alcohol haze.

By: (L_Munro)

Moonlight

2009-11-03T02:22:00.000-08:00

Moonlight

The moonlight spills through my window
it pools on my pillow
it saturates my sheets.

Wait
it's not light
it's raindrops
...
God
I'm fucked.

by Judas Kesler

Poetry Competition Now Open!

2009-08-15T04:27:00.000-07:00

As you've seen in our latest issue of Poets' Refuge, we've announced a freestyle poetry competition. You may submit your poems before Sept. 14 to poetsrefugeblog@hotmail.com

Please remember to add the title of your entry and your name at the bottom.

Innocent Eyes

2008-12-08T02:15:00.000-08:00

Innocent Eyes

_{I'm sitting beside my inner child,
Watching a God spin a silver web.
A knowing warning shared between us,
Two sisters caught in metallic awe.
Your warning stirs something in me.
'Don't get too close.'
This silver web that scars.
Does such beauty hold such danger?
I want to get closer.
To this web. To this God.
I want to be one. I want to be it.
I want it. This purity.
I see your mystery reflected in your spinning silver web.
Spun by a God.

I see you now.
You complain. You tire. You fuss.
Remind me.
Gods have imperfections.}

by ~kidahGEEK

About Poets' Refuge

2008-01-01T04:20:00.000-08:00

Welcome to our blog. Poets' Refuge is a blog dedicated to poetry. We aim to promote inspiring and talented authors on the web.

To poets out there, we would be pleased and honored to feature your poems at this blog as well as on our Parisian literary magazine, Poets' Refuge. Please just send us an e-mail indicating that you are giving us permission for publishing your works. We also encourage you to recommend poems by other poets.

E-mail us at poetsrefugeblog@hotmail.com