The NY Literary Magazine

A Distinguished Selection of the Finest Poetry

Category

Abstract and Modern Freestyle Poetry

Modern poetry and abstract, contemporary poems by creative poets.

Spacing in, act 1: clairvoyance – Poem by Dorina Li

during her first steps
she cannot see through her eyes on the wings
thus she cleans her inner lens from magnifying –
with every other step she listens to her soles

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The Only Picture that Survived the Fire by Shawna Mayer

Like hope in Pandora’s box,
I wondered if I was spared or
punished by it.

See three smiling cousins,
around age eight,
spattered with mud, after
an afternoon spent playing
in the sodden, low spot in the yard

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One Pixel on an Immense Black Screen by Tom Higgins

A tiny, pale blue dot,
is all there is,
it is not such a lot
but it is everything
to us.
We share this speck
of dust in a void,
and what we are,
what we were,
and what we become,
is all because
so far

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The Balanced Book by Marie Hanna Curran

In an over-produced world
Of populous populations,
Supply is often halted beyond the womb

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
“First World”
Or stamped and wrapped:
“For Family Wealth”

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Rose Gardens by Julia Cirignano

I have galaxies and rose gardens in my head
They come out as whispers and rolled eyes
I blink, and a rose blooms but no one notices

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

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Warrior’s Muse by Edward J Davis

Black of night, receding star light
Scarlet life joining frosted earth
A Valkyrie’s cry, a kiss fading in winter’s tide
Her touch, death’s caress?
Or life’s yearnful embrace?

She departed in a flurry of wings, took flight.

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Liturgy by Shawna Mayer

As a child I saw faith
in fragments of color

First Communion white
blood red martyr Sundays
the altar draped in purple

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We’re Old Enough to be Young Again by Eunice-Grace Domingo

Gloomy sunshine, ineffable coffee, and lies that cake the day,
Monotone silences and idle gossip and smiles that just decay,
Laughter that fizzles past the lips of superfluous strangers,
Hospital rooms and bathroom stalls saving you from dangers,

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,

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Love Across the Salt Desert by Subhojoy Ghosh

Let’s make love tonight
Under the sky
On a star-studded night.

The waves would echo
Tumultuous roar
And we shall be lost in one in one.

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The Paper Man by Dixie

He fell from the tip of my pen,
He fell from the edge of my rhymes,
He fell out of my poems,
He slipped from between the lines.

His lips were made of paper,
Unkissable and cold,
But his hands were a sonnet
So beautifully told.

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Ode To Music by Emily Bilman

Ode to Music

Like a village beacon lit for a celebration,
The mind’s halls are lit up, all by music.
Each note, sustained by that intuitive

Leap of faith, restores doubt with rock-strength
As the virtuoso hand trembles and resonates
On the chords of our innermost essence.

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Kelly 3 – Abstract Modern Poem by R. Bremner

The girl who lives on heaven’s hill eats
peanuts all night long and drives me
out of my mind when she gets
herself a selfie with swinging medallions.

She asks for forgiveness from Mrs. Magician and
her dear one, the sunbather at Finnegan’s wake.
During the cruel war, the idol with the golden
head felt a little bit lied to
on the dirt road by Susan Surftone,
so it went away and brought plague to a place
where a pounding boogie put
candlelight under its thumb

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The Voyage by Gerald Weeks

At last in past is the dream of me I see,
As I sit in a boat afloat, I admit, through the sea of life
I saw myself without spiritual wealth,
Shipwrecked, turned and tossed, I yearned
from truth-aloof in my youth, I was lost,

On a voyage under nights-roof darkest, aloof-alone,
only stars atone with a glowing harkness,
Would, by knowing which one I should follow,
be an escape from the agape of sea and dark to swallow?
Be showing a way as I drift astray?

May the chosen star in my nightmare dream – gleam a light – beam as I pray for day,
Beaming aglow, it would brighten my dream’s darkly plight of a woeful night,

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The Tear-Catcher by Emily Bilman

The salt taste of my tears
bears memories buried
in the corolla of a rose,
in the odours of my childhood,
barely woken from a dream,
our tryst abandoned.

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A Nobody by Julia Hones

A “nobody” who writes for the voiceless
swims against the tides of fate,
clashes with uptight currents,
is buoyed by gentle waves
like a bolt into a dream made out of nothingness,
crowns of hope
along the touch of nature.No golden shoes enfold the feet.
They are bare and wounded.

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Dear Suki: Number Six by Lana Bella

Dear Suki: Culver City, June 17th,
your shoes are large and I put them
on, trying to ache through the miles
you had walked from this wild grass
I no longer mow. Pronged fibers curl
above my steps, gathering the way
smoke shoulders its particles up the
exhaust hood. But idle feet can’t tar

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Yours is the Haunt by Ranscan

Yours is the haunt
the silky palace of nights revenge
the desert dreaming of a storm
the voice whispering across the back of a neck,

Longing quantified and articulated
yours is the touch
that lights the forever fires
seethes the trembling earth,

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Time Out by Marjon van Bruggen

Going forward and forced to stop
the way light and shadow
play hide and seek.

I search and see a foggy future
in clear Waterford crystal.
It shatters as seconds cease
to tick tick on.

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Tantric Warrior Stance by Empirik

Something pulling worldwide attraction to one beauty
Man and Woman made together partaking in a heavenly parade
luminously walking along one’s own brigade, fully powered
Clearly connecting kinetically communicating through the cosmos

A fabric to weave in and out of the one mused most
Enveloped in a theory of strings and mindful news posts
Set up a series of lyrical hosts discovering the deepest cognitive coasts

Visually experiencing the tides of thought in the eyes mind and believing in
Sending messages of safe passage over seas
Weathering storms, disease and all liquid creatures swimming about
Destructive demonstrated dance dialect positioning translation

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Empty Vessel by Valormore De Plume

The days are long, hot, and maddening,
the nights cloudy, starless, and sultry.
Sleep withheld behind a heavy dark veil.
Spirit weary in its empty aloneness.

Fleeting visions from happier times,
refuse to project, on the silver screen within.
Joy from dust-covered chapters, dissolves in decay,
upon the sagging shelves of remembrance.

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