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I’m poet Guy Farmer and I created The Poet Community to feature thoughtful, original, contemporary poetry from poets worldwide. This site is completely reader supported, please consider helping me keep it going.

 


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Guy

Adverts to Avert | A Poem by Priyanka Pareek

A world of bulletin boards,
Of banners, flexes, and signage.
Shoving yet another product in your face!
Dare you ignore.

My logo, my brand, my slogan everywhere,
My marketing meaty.
The catchiest line, the brightest flashlight
I’ll make your life easy, trust me I swear.

I am bigger than your previous home, come stay with me.
Fill me with decor and your life won’t be empty. No no. Not anymore.

I am neon, I am bold! I am big, I am high. You’ll see me on TV, on paper, in print,
I’ll sing on the radio for you. An annoying jingle or two.

I’ll plaster myself on every “No bills” wall
I’ll make you believe you need me every hour.

I’ve noticed you aren’t looking anymore,
Your eyes so glued to that thing you call a phone.

Oh, snap. Is that a fly on your wall?
Forgive me as I replace memories on your picture tile.
You skip me, I seek you,
Click me oh click me once more.

Won’t you at least put me in the cart.
Your wish, be my discount.
I won’t be pushy I notify.
Turn me on whenever you want.

Look how pretty the places are in my post, follow me, won’t you?
All the birdies agree to my wit. Won’t you quote a retweet?

Cluttered in 140 characters, a filtered short story
Will be lost in the digital black hole.
Ten seconds, there it goes again
Yes, I wish I could stay too.

In this attention-seeking materialistic store,
Around the ignored versions of incompatible emotional bores.
Someday, in some way.
You’ll stumble upon my unadvertised soul.

Visit Priyanka at https://smalllilthings.wordpress.com/.

Insect Nonsense | A Poem by Omar Ali

Quiet, except
for the insects,
and a dog barking
somewhere. No
answer. The sleepy houses. The
dog finally went silent, tiring
of its own voice, the absence
of an answer, not even
an echo. He stared out
to somewhere. The stars looked
nearby out there, although their light
was reaching and reaching
from far away, dimming
the more it reached,
any closer and maybe he could hear
their far away whispers. Quiet,
except for the insects.
Their sounds didn’t
make any sense.
You thought you
were in love, like it’s
something real. It feels
like insect nonsense.

Visit Omar at https://omarmali.wordpress.com/.

A Reader of Dante | A Poem by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

The fireworks were in charge of the fireworks
so that the stairwell seemed to climb forever.
I do not want Everest, he remembered thinking,
I want to be on time, and perhaps a ham
and cheese sandwich. The underground had been
hell to navigate, which made perfect sense to a reader
of Dante, but where was his guide? His Beatrice? Was she a looker?
An in case of fire sign in three languages hardly caught his fancy. And the suit he was sweating through was borrowed. His socks falling back
over his heels in full retreat. By the time he arrived, they would have
hired someone else and already fired them. That was his only hope now. That he could catch them in between layoffs and have his own desk for a couple months.

—–
Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage. His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The Poet Community, The New York Quarterly, Word Riot, In Between Hangovers, Red Fez, and The Oklahoma Review.