The NY Literary Magazine thanks all the talented poets for submitting their poems to us! After reading through hundreds of poetry submissions, we have published a selection of the finest contemporary poems in our latest poetry anthology titled “Echoes”.
“Echoes” is a poetry collection featuring today’s most remarkable, modern poetry by both new and award-winning poets of all ages and nationalities.
In this poetry magazine, you’ll find deep meaningful poems about life and living, sincere poems about thoughts and feelings, dark & sad poetry, as well as an inspirational poem; along with complimentary striking paintings.
This poetry book is available as a print magazine and as a free-to-read digital magazine. Download and read for free
We thank everyone for their poetry submissions!
The NY Literary Magazine’s “Winds of Time” poetry Anthology is now available in print, and as a free digital magazine on Amazon Kindle, Scribd, Issuu etc.
The “Winds of Time” Anthology features a selection of outstanding, modern poems by both emerging and internationally recognized, remarkable, award-winning poets from around the world.
In this poetry magazine you’ll find expressive love poems; a delightfully explicit
Will we ever even speak again, like we used
to, like good friends should? Or will a nose be
turned and no words spoken as we walk back out
of each other’s lives. I sometimes wish I knew,
so that the time I waste wondering is not in vain.
We are excited to announce the publication of our latest poetry magazine! The NY Literary Magazine’s “AWAKE” anthology contains a selection of outstanding, modern poetry by both emerging and award-winning poets from around the world. Enjoy reading deep meaningful poems, poetic thoughts and memories, sad poems about
See three smiling cousins,
around age eight,
spattered with mud, after
an afternoon spent playing
in the sodden, low spot in the yard
The day was sad and wearisome,
It chilled me to my core,
I’d known that something would go wrong,
Though I could not be sure.
I’d felt so tired and lonely, still,
My heart had ached for him,
Beneath the Christmas trim.
Dedicated to: Aseel Kawash
Have I ever mentioned
The hot chocolate you invented?
Thick and a little sugary
Poured into the wrong cups
By the scatter of our weekly magazines
Have I ever told you
I’ve forgotten the orange-redness
Of my hair when I was younger?
I wish I’d chosen dye more wisely
Yet your drawings of me
Of the smile I attempted horribly
And the fiery, red curls
Made me feel less foolish
I always believed time would cease
At the blissful age of sixteen
Enter your dark and sad poetry into our free-to-enter international poetry competition!
Poets of any age and nationality are welcome to submit their deep, dark poems to the NY Literary Magazine’s contest.
We’re searching for outstanding dark poems including sad poems about death; mournful, deep poems about loss; depressing poems on any subject; sad poems about memories, experiences, lost loved ones; and general emotional, stirring sad poetry.
Read for free our poetry magazines to understand what style poetry we like best and publish.
Contest Start date:
Those greyish, green eyes.
Dimples when you smiled
Like raindrop wounds.
You looked too familiar for a stranger.
Maybe you had appeared in my dreams from the future.
Sent back in time.
Stalked you on the Internet and found out your name.
Social media and company websites,
The hunter’s paradise.
A tiny, pale blue dot,
is all there is,
it is not such a lot
but it is everything
We share this speck
of dust in a void,
and what we are,
what we were,
and what we become,
is all because
No knowledge of how this life works,
Unaware of death,
awaiting his soul to keep.
A hysterical mother,
a bewildered father,
Begging for answers
about the unexpected leave.
Words are nature with no sound,
for how can we appreciate the warbler’s song
when we do not listen to the lyrics?
One wears a halo, glowing like the future:
White robes, golden smile — heavenly composure.
This one’s got vows and rules that I must follow:
Ways of ensuring that I have a tomorrow.
Your own beauty exploration
Had outside blissfulness of marriage
Lures men to love exploration
Of you until you reach your vile age.
Your readiness is what matter.
Marriage is honorable in all
Plenty money does not matter.
Make sure you don’t waste time at all.
A Painter heard the Poet’s words,
Then took his golden brush,
To paint the world alive again,
Down to the river’s rush.
A portrait in disguise.
Manes like cascading water
Tails proud, silky banners
Coats shimmer in the morning sun
Muscles ripple beneath slick pelts.
I sat in the passenger seat,
a habit from when I was little.
There was a smell
I hoped my parents wouldn’t notice.
I was allowed to hang
the heavy speaker on
my half rolled down window,
to control the volume.
We brought our own cans
of pop in a cooler stashed
on the floorboards.
Slunk low during the trailers,
Dad reached through
the bucket seats into
a bowl of popcorn from home
balanced on the parking brake.
In the shadow of yesterday?
Will they say this upon the grave?
Yet, that which was lost yesterday,
can be regained tomorrow,
again, so they say.
Do I understand?
Where is today?
The choice lays within,
the question mark of a new day.
It’s the not thinking
About a rape by a victim,
And the not thinking
Of a stranger’s greasy hands
All over your front hall.
The whereabouts of your mind are anybody’s guess,
Wearing nothing but a smile, you look so well dressed.
And should a child make it
To the densely packed production line,
There are no lifetime guarantees
No best before, or after birthday dates
Supply outcries demand.
But demand increases should you move
Within the factory floor,
Be placed onto the packaged line
Or stamped and wrapped:
“For Family Wealth”