Poetry Sharing Page

Residents of the Bloomfield and surrounding communities are invited to submit their poetry for consideration to appear on the library’s Poetry Sharing Page!

Poetry submissions (up to three one-page poems at a time) are accepted on a monthly basis and are due by the 15th of each month. (Some slight reformatting of your poem may appear due to technical constraints). For all questions or submissions contact Tom Nicotera at tnicotera@libraryconnection.info.


Superstar

So you say your dream is to become a great big Superstar,
living in luxury and driving in a great big expensive car.
You want the notoriety ‘cause everyone will know who you are,
because you would be living the life of a great big Superstar.

But be careful what you dream for and what you wish for in life,
because many Superstars are now living in pain and in strife.
They either owe a lot of tax money or they are stone broke,
dreaming and living the crazy life of a Superstar ain’t no joke.

Many people in life want to be known as a great big Superstar,
because they think their name and fame will take them very far.
But once they make it to the top they forget who they really are,
until they lose all their fame and their great big expense car.

Once you lose all or most of your Superstar notoriety and fame,
as well as your Superstar status and that big time Superstar name,
then you finally realize that being a Superstar is nothing but a game,
because you have to live it 24 hours a day or just fade away in shame.

by Woodrow Dixon


The Old Men On The Corner

The old neighborhood corner is not what it used to be,
when the old men on the corner would gather and talk by a tree.
But that was decades ago when I was a young kid living in the hood,
when the old men on the corner would tell you to be smart and to do good.
In today’s world, the neighborhood corner is owned by hustling men,
who sell drugs, prostitute women and promote anything that is a sin.          
These hustling men are deadly and don’t care about hurting each other,
so you know they don’t care about hurting you or your elderly mother.
Where are the old men on the corner when we need their wisdom,
so that we can defeat these hustling men during the days to come?
Are the old men still alive and still breathing, or have they all passed away,
or have they given up on the generations that have come since their day?
The old neighborhood corner is not what it used to be,
when the old men on the corner would gather and talk by a tree.

by Woodrow Dixon


When it gets dark

When it gets dark and night begins to creep,
normal people are in their beds fast asleep.
However, those who run the streets at night
come out when it gets dark but keep out of sight,

The streets are their kingdoms to rule and to run
and their weapon of choice is the use of a gun.
But one must be quick and good with a gun in hand
in order to rule  or else one will become a dead man.

Many men have fallen trying to defend their territory,
those who have survived will tell you their story.
When it gets dark at night only the strong at heart survive,
but they don’t know how long they will stay alive.

When it gets dark at night and you’re on the street,
you must listen for the people with the silent feet
because they may be coming to take you down
and you’ll wind up being another body laying on the ground.

by Woodrow Dixon


Where are Those Villages?

Where are Those Villages that we once knew,
where parents and other adults watched us as we grew?
Those Villages always had eyes watching what we’d do,
but we never saw those eyes, so we never had a clue.

Where are Those Villages with the loving and the caring mom and dad,
Those Villages and those people no longer exist – this reality is so sad?
Those Villages were the heart and the soul for us back in the day,
but now gentrification and a new attitude is now the prevailing way.

Those Villages of old are now just memories from the past,
which proves that nothing on this Earth is meant to last.
But Those Villages living inside of us will never go away or die,
hold on to those memories of Those Villages and don’t be afraid to cry.

Where are Those Villages that we once knew,
where parents and other adults watched us as we grew?
Those Villages are still deep inside each heart and each mind,
keeping those memories will provide the comfort we need to find.

by Woodrow Dixon


Rise

Time and death are the enemies of all men,
because of Adam and Eve’s immortal sin.
Sooner or later, we will ultimately close our eyes,
but one day to come, we will have the chance to Rise.

Yes, we will all Rise and face a final judgment,
we’ll see God and Jesus our Savior, who was sent.
On this momentous day, we will open up our eyes,
and see all who have died come alive and Rise.

Shall we Rise up in joy or shall we Rise up in fear-
waiting and listening for His final judgment to hear?
Will our souls live and burn in Hell for all of eternity,
or will our souls live and shine with our Creator whom we’ll see?

Only when we Rise and hear God’s voice say that all is well,
will we know whether we will go to Heaven or go to Hell.
For now we must fight those who are evil and full of hate,
until the Creator and Savior arrive to judge our fate.

by Woodrow Dixon


NATIVE SON

As American as,
and Kissinger, Crazy Horse,
I am proud to be.

by Paul Bussan


BEYOND MACHINE INTELLIGENCE

Statistically,
I‘m not surprised,
but knowing, in ad-
-dition to the numbers,
the people involved,
I’m even less so.

by Paul Bussan


3 TRUTHS AT 24 FRAMES PER SECOND

“As Jeanne Eagels,
Kim Novak
is out of
her depth.

“William Holden,
in a movie,
hasn’t looked
so alive in years.”

“…and on
the screen, a
a vacuum called
Eddie Fisher.”

by Paul Bussan


Roots

I’m impudent but a good student,
Prudent, inclusively intrusive, but
I am experiencing a lack within my lexicon
Due to chemo brain, depression,
Hackers, hijackers, and whackers.
I’ve been wrecked into a divide
too bulging wide to bridge.
I sink into the humus, wherein
I don’t make much sense to most.
In my roots I am a Swedish witch
Stirring pots in the root cellars
Brewing up a foolery of potions,
Herbs, beets, potatoes, and gemstones Stirring the big iron cauldron
With root fire in the dark earth room.

by Susan Allison


Over and over again,
This poem to me I send,
Every morning unto mine eyes,
Into my soul these words reside.

Vv, you are the love of my life ,
With you I’ll spend the rest of my days,
With love so strong, as a fire Which stands brightly ablaze,
You are whom I accept, with every flaw, imperfection, and dept.

To love yourself , and to love others is the simple act of loving God,
Trusting him, brings my mind to peace,
Bringing true pleasure like a holiday feast,
Im already so fly, and ready to fly,

Not just fly but soar so high,
As an Eagle God desired for me to be,
So for the rest of my days I will Love me,
Over and over again.🙂

by Veanna J.