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
Roots finding no soil
A mind lingers in turmoil
An endless journey
Unable to flee
I hum, and life is found on a new planet
A melody is created but they only see me walk
They see my curves but not my angles
I want to feel
and I want to numb.
I want to hide
and I want to run.
It’s moving day
All my possessions in boxes
Memories due for collection, when that big lorry finally comes
I’ve left behind the carpet and the wallpaper and stuff like that
And I’ll be sure to leave next doors cat
She used to love to wander in at breakfast, at the smell of bacon
I’ve taken down the posters of 1 Direction
1 Bloody Dimension if you ask me
But little Jessica swears by ’em, and as long as she’s happy
Oh and I’ve left you a little something in the fridge
The sky is crisp and clear and blue,
His breath is on the air,
He silently walks through the street
With sunlight in his hair.
His eyes are cast down at his feet,
He hurries to get home,
Afraid to stop beside the park
With the blackened dome.
She departed in a flurry of wings, took flight.
As it can’t contain the amount sent,
I use all my strength,
Batten the doors,
Try to keep out,
Howling black phantoms,
Worries and doubt,
I’ll sing thee mandolin’s melody
sweetest songs of love, each note to behold
chasing gray clouds away, too far to see
kiss thy lips warm, when winter’s breath breathes cold
O’ hear my love song enchanting this day
with poetry’s whispered words to thy ear
of summer’s breeze and lavender’s bouquet
sunshine and laughter our hearts may endear
I’ll play thee a sonnet meant for just you
mandolin’s melody with love so true
As a child I saw faith
in fragments of color
First Communion white
blood red martyr Sundays
the altar draped in purple
He could hear a song once
And play it by ear
The guitar was his vice
The instrument he held dear
Music always moved him
He smiled when accumulated notes were plays
“Guitar Man” yeah that’s him
A music lover until he went to his grave
Gripping writing tools like vices for the future,
Avoiding full eye contact and solidifying closure,
Running up ramp ways and giggling like it’s pleasantry,
Bells ringing like Notre Dame ignoring all the travesty,
My precious ally has found a new face
Not touched by grief, lack of sleep
And broken dreams.
Give yourself this simple treasure,
“Openness” without a measure.
You seemed never to fit in
You’ve searched your soul
looking for a reason within
but there was nothing you could do
because the problem was never you
You were simply not on the same page
could not connect with children of your own age
We met one night on a bus
because to training, it was for us.
We had both signed papers with words that said,
“I will protect my country, even ’till death.”
Through the shouts and the screams,
that persisted all day it seems,
my brother would smile and say,
“To me, it’s just another day.
I’m used to hollers and screams,
to being told nothing is what my life means.”
I would look at this man with a frown;
a brother from another town.
Then the day we became men.
Our families and honeys, greeted us then.
“My little boy is now a Soldier.”
wept my mother on my shoulder.
The waves would echo
And we shall be lost in one in one.