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The soul is said to be a distinct entity separate from the body. A principle of the thoughts, actions, and feelings that make up what we know as the human personality. As poets our experiences in life are what inspire us to write. The scars and smiles we receive each and every day leave their marks inside, adding another brick into the building our character. This...this is our soul, a direct product of our environment. In this anthology we have asked for a piece that will give us a window into the soul of the wordsmith’s engine room. So often poets use their talent to tell give us perspectives on things that they experience in their everyday lives. Whether it is politically or emotionally motivated, poets break off a piece of their personas and offer it up to us in their work. However I challenged these poets to take us under the hood and show us their engines, revealing what makes them poets. It is my belief that the six poets that are involved in this anthology have accomplished the task that was set before them. Phoenix AR Lauren James Kiri Phoenix Ezekiel Zee Chapusha They are all poets with exceptional writing talent and I am sure you will be seeing and hearing a lot more from them in the near future. Enjoy reading! Francis Xavier Labiran Wordjar Publishing
Lauren James - “Bruises” Zee Chapusha - “Nomad“ Kiri Gray - “A Poet’s Soul“ AR - “A Poet Defined“ Ezekiel - “Alone“ Phoenix - “Phoenix“ Francis Xavier Labiran - “Soul Scream” 2 4 6 8 11 13 15
‘Bruises’ by Lauren James
“I am Lauren James breathing forth the hurt.”
I wish I didn’t feel it This pride I have inside I wish I could conceal it And sleep away the night My cells have become endogamous Interrelating the connections Calculating your outcome Your strengths Your weakness Your actions affect my mood swings Your words conduct my tears I’m but a river A river to the sphere Before it bursts. This is how my emotions Form the black writing On the white board And the black scars are the fragment of my heart My soul I can’t compose To fill in the detailed blanks Of how I mourn over Bruises To my diaphragm So I constitute The directions Of being a man I am a soul A soul Who is… Sad! LAUREN JAMES
‘NOMAD’ by Zee Chapusha
“I find myself addicted to the art of poetry. Inspired by the rarity of wild yellow roses and the fluctuating movement of daily life”
Restless heart knows no sleep Restless heart beats anxiously in a rib cage prison. Pacing the four walls like a humming bird with a blocked nose. Restless heart pumping restless blood through its restless chambers to a restless mind. Restless mind knows no calm. Knows no sleep! Restless mind over thinking every last detail. Restless mind reliving night terror filled night is running out of space to run. Running out of space to pace back and forth and back and forth and back… Restless mind sending mad electrical impulses to restless eyes. Restless eyes know no peace Know no calm Know no sleep!! Restless eyes burn red from restless sleep deprived nights. Restless eyes burn red from restlessly blinking away stubborn tears from a restless heart and a restless mind and sleepless nights. Restless eyes burning red, grow tired of looking at restless hands. These restless hands know no composure. Restless hands grasping at an aching rattling rib cage prison chest Restless hands holding a restless mind and scratching at burning restless eyes. These restless hands calm this restless being. These hands that know nothing do everything to sooth this restless mind. These restless hands move so wildly, while the restless mind sends impulses to the restless mouth, that these restless eyes are hypnotised by these serene hands. These serene hands that hypnotise these burning eyes and slow this anxious heart that pumps soothing blood to this restless mind that sends impulses to these tired eyelids to close. On these restless eyes that burn red from restless sleep deprived nights… Zee Chapusha
‘A Poet’s Soul’ by Kiri Gray
“I don’t write for an audience. I write because I feel, it just happens to be that my feelings are artistic on paper”
A poets soul controls the pen, Made up of tears and pains that never end A poets soul is always lonely The truth in its words are self-harmingly honest A poets soul sees heartbreaking beauty A love more red than the heart, but more sublime than cruelty A poets soul is so sensitively stricken That it can’t forget but will keep on forgiving A poets soul thrives on words, arranging its emotions on paper, like a bouquet in a vase A poets soul, in silence, can find it’s loudest voice Its cries become art, without a choice A poets soul, longs to be understood But no-one ever completely could A poets soul will share its all For just the half of another, in love it will fall An uncompromising imagination that limits its satisfaction But when found its mate, a poets soul would sacrifice anything Kiri Phoenix
‘A Poet Defined’ by AR
“I have a love for language initially and beyond that the intricate subtleties of transferring my disjointed thoughts onto paper.”
An internal verbal dialogue... Comprising argumentative articulations; One to fear no judgement yet to cast down judgements. To provide fitting testimony to each and every one of my individual prejudices. Prejudice against those who chastise my command of words. Prejudice against those who have ever had the last word in an argument. Idle rebukes! Comebacks that take an eternity to perfect. And forever need refinement! I write about battling both sides of myself, But as time passes, which is right between the fighting... Words or deeds? Mind and body forming a truce and working to a common goal, expression. I write about being irate... And I reign over the page with poetic justice. I fear no scrutiny. I am master of self and my words prove to be the court jesters. Humouring the King, I. A complex ruler; from which I draw the borders of my land. Segment my articulate reality into regimented lines. Battalions of verse, battling for equal voice. Where they are all both peasants and gentry. With equal footing and a firm foundation for success! The pleasantries are disposed with. I serve up my raw emotions, and beg you to tuck in! Wishing for a humble diner. Yet the wistful wish for my dish is that everyone stomachs my words, Yet for no one to truly understand them. If they understand me, then I have become too comfortable within the kitchen. I do not seek a recipe for success! And so I write about standing out. I believe I am different from others. And I, with this belief, I stand tall. Of course I write about ‘I’ and somewhat, Other less important capital letters.
The majestic majuscule stamping out my often downtrodden notions. Every capital is carefully measured, I write because YOU KNOW NOT THE WORTH OF WORDS. They say a picture portrays a thousand words... I pose within my prose. For I wish to capture snapshots of my mind: Encapsulating a moments spirit. My pens ink forms an ocean of feelings. Where my ego is waived and borne afloat far from my grasp. And... When I am done, from my lofty seat of judgement, The poets soul gazes upon an extended autograph. As I write, I sign my life away to the paper. (with hindsight perhaps I should not have signed this declaration) Entrusting it to the hands of the reader. A scripted contract; outlining my sincerity. Yet I am not afraid, because no words can encapsulate my being. The irony is I am all too willing to try and try again. Knowing that those who I refine for are none the wiser, So how do I define ‘a poet’s soul?’ A poet’s soul is comprised of 50% your own words and 50% others imagination... Everything that is written, but more importantly... The words that were left out. ‘A poet’s soul’ is the epitome of frustration, Working with 26 disobedient letters. From which 8 of them form a phrase which cannot be qualified or quantified! A POETS SOUL. AR
‘Alone’ by Ezekiel
“Love where words and the vocabulary can take me, the imagination is limitless”
On this journey i’m alone Searching for my lost soul because its way past overdue to return home I’ve been wandering around dabbling in things that wouldn’t propel me Wasting time trying to make ends meet with dark beginnings, impressing crowds of suggested friends because to me that guaranteed the feeling Of happiness, right? That unexplainable emotion inside when you feel on top of the world, you can fly But I didn’t feel it. And these people are beyond deceiving because they only stay when you’re up and vanish when you’re down So you constantly question if any real ones were ever around On this journey you’re alone Looking after number one because whether you’re a poet, scholar, or just you’re average Joe The most valuable assets we have when we enter and leave this world is our minds, bodies, hearts and souls So we must protect them, their our investments and feeding them positive nourishment will surely see us flourishing On this hunt for the soul, look for diamonds to add to merge with this lost treasure so once you’ve found you you’ll know you’re all you can be, to the utmost best in any and every capacity My voyage for mine is ongoing, its easy to fall off track Once you relax, you fall into a trap of later is the same as sooner but in actual fact Later is not promised and now is all we have To make the most of the present, the gift we continually under-appreciate On this journey we’re alone I just thought I’d set the record straight Ezekiel the Poet
‘Phoenix’ by Phoenix
“I’m just someone with thoughts and the need to release them. It’s a catharsis for me a stress reliever”
Sometimes I feel like I’m on the road to nowhere In the middle of my own destruction. Blood on my hands So I know its me who caused it In a trance, Lighter and a match Set it on fire The strength of the blaze, Takes me aback. Knocked over the petrol, The fumes and flames Bigger than I could ever imagine I didn’t mean for this to happen It all just spiralled out control. I need help Somebody save me Don’t want these flames to engulf The good left in me I need a breath of fresh air, Something pure, Something clean Take me back to the garden of Eden Where it all makes sense again Rain starts to fall A pitter patter on my face Desperately I cling to a small area that’s safe No blood, no flames A hint of fresh air and rain As I watch everything go down in flames A new life begins to grow Its beautiful, No its special From burning concrete, A single red rose I’m like a phoenix rising from the ashes Born to soar free I’ve learnt from my mistakes Broken free from the shackles of my lies I can see another day Death, leave me be Phoenix
‘Soul Scream’ by Francis Xavier Labiran
“My pen carries tales that my mind has possessed, morphed and dispensed, a window into the life I live”
It’s like A black hole, Sucking in all life’s darkness and pain And spitting out Powerful poetic Punctuation To penetrate Your perception Of perfection. Concep-tional Views on the 666 politics That regulates our income and breathing, Heart beating, At an ever increasing frequency As it tries to survive the torture of life’s demons. Still scheming Using the scars As rocket fuel to propel me Towards my ambitions. You see I’m a Christian So my soul is possessed and blessed, By the holy trinity I guess But my mechanical constitution could breathe life into death The shadows in my heart could make the truth hold its breath, And the diamonds in my cerebrum show there is no limit to my depth. Precious Like the Y chromosome That was born in Adams apple, Planted in Hercules bicep And now resides in my ego. My ball point staff Pierces the decibel barrier With quantum onomatopoeia, Tearing holes in the metaphysical Releasing screams of extended vernacular Causing an explosion of the lyrical. And when the dust particles settle, On the tundra’s of your mind All that will be left behind Is my warrior ink. Francis Xavier Labiran
Published in 2011 by Wordjar Publishing No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher except for the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. www.wordjar.tumblr.com firstname.lastname@example.org Facebook: Wordjar Twitter: Wordjar Wordjar Publishing. London Compiled by: Francis Xavier Labiran (Wordjar publishing) Edited by: (Wordjar Publishing) Designed by: Kelvin Akposoe (Wordjar publishing)
PREVIOUS WORDJAR RELEASES: MY LOVE
‘’Undeniably each poem either makes you think, laugh, digest the meaning of love.’’ Dami Oloni – Bloginity.com ‘’I Flicked through beautiful poetry dripping with intelligent use of real-life fantasy and romance seamlessly put together in a sleek and sexy black book’’ Diane Mgoborogwu – Black Crayon
Who Am I
‘’It’ll kick start your journey into finding out who you really are’’ Diane Mgoborogwu – Black Crayon
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