Long poem by
J. W. M. Earnings | Details |
He lifts me up on cloud nine
I’m a lost sheep in godly sleep
He nurtures me like His child – I’m feelin’ fine
I’m a joyful sheep in godly sleep
Dead leaves of dried hope and fervor-lacking faith blew away with the wistful wind – this depression…no one can comprehend or they might reduce to tears…you might break or bend, so let me replace your fears with unsullied, heaven-made hopes and fill your cup to the brim with perpetual cheers
I have left this withering tree because my mind rehearsed double doubts
Voices in my head howled heartrendingly: “They haven’t left the time to mend me, so I’m waiting for my end…I’ve lived a happy life and now I got to face my demise that I’ve tried to avoid for one hundred and fifty y-years”
I have been pinned to the spot; I can’t get over the fact that she left me to rot…I’m choosing to walk countless routes
I was once a lost sheep
But, now I’m enjoying my godly sleep
I’m skipping to and fro
In God’s green pastures…I lie…
I sing …I grow…I wander off…I fly…
I float…in God’s still waters –
His PEACE will never die!
I grieved for you as I watched you slit your wrists in crimson regret - painted red with shameful lusts and remorse...and I cried...cried...cried...knowing that you lost your faith in the Most High – I’m bewildered beyond logic and belief…
I’m dying for His relief to drown away my disdainful disbelief…my lavishing grief…
Don’t be shy – call upon Him for help and support and I wish you the best in all you do and I wish you go through more good times to uplift you above the surface; let me hearten you with optimistic spirits and be crowned with splendid anticipation; but, I must be responsible and mild
For your loving heart and consideration are slowly fading and dying
Sick of pretending that I have the ability to keep on flying, but I must keep on trying to earn back my wonderful sensation that I’ve cherished as I wild child
You’re killing me softly…with thrilling possibilities in mind – I don’t wanna be left behind…I miss you and there’s no one else your kind
Possibly, there’s an open door of opportunity to open up the eyes of the blind
Save me if you’d be so kind
Believe in me…don’t desert me, but instead – f-find me
Reflect on me…don’t lose grip of the rope of hope or lose touch of the ecstasy that’s next to sea
You inflicted pain upon me and it truly hurts me to the core – your disloyalty is the only thing I receive from a so-called healer
I was once a lost sheep
Mourning night after night…
I used to forlorn day after day
I’m alarmed and I’m yearning for Your light
Your might…Your delight
To get through my plight…to fight the good fight
I used to weep bitterly in dismay
You smoked me out like a cigarette…and I’m left on the street grounds like a cigarette butt – The moment you picked me up and I said yes for your sake, I submitted to the pleasure that it would give you and I, then I regret it and I became so upset
From your corrupting ways, I felt I had taken part of it and I hastily decided to fret
And now, I beat myself up for it...my mind is sky high with doubt and my body feels like a drought...dry with a lack of empathy and indulged in loathe and envy...I-I am upset
I was determined to win 1st place in this race of honor. I know that there are so much gold nuggets to find below the dirt of Mother Nature. It’s time to unwind.
I was drunk off of your confidence, but I don’t know how to do without your motivation near my side – I don’t mind you pushing me towards my goal as long as I get out of my comfort zone. But, I couldn’t run fast enough and I submitted to my failure…I fell to the ground in disgrace and my heart ceased from beating…I’m in appall right now and I bet
I need to pass this test – I should’ve tried my best, despite you leaving me behind as usual. Tell me this, sweetheart – I ever cross your mind?
Don’t stab my back with lies, but shed me the truth, so that we will be free from misery’s chambers. I found it hard to believe that I was on my own all along, but not alone; God is my backbone, supporting me along the way – I ignored the call of negativity and I picked up on positivity – it treated me alright and portrayed life in another magnificent light; it even traced me a smile of satisfaction for a while – I thought her awfully kind to do such a thing. I am Forever Confounded and Ambushed in your Lies’ Debt
It seemed as if no one could befriend a monster like me and I couldn’t help, but pray
That all hope, faith, and love would not perished from my sundrenched sight
It seemed like the end when I went through the dilemmas in my life – I remember being bewildered and going astray
I am overwhelmed by the cost of losing you again…I searched all over for you day and night
Don't leave me to die...don’t stomp all over me like your doormat
I am not your pet...and there’s a reason why I said that
I won't take your orders
We're not crossing borders
Can you feel me when I cry bittersweet tears of sentiments? Do you even care to see the liquid lament, streaming down my universe, aquatic eyes? Can you release my tension like breaking open boulders?
You left me without any comforting shoulders…your words injure me – frankly, it tortures…
Nor does it nurture me with heavens’ light, but it makes me kiss the abyss of hazardous hells
On this perilous voyage, your hand you never did lend
Now, I’m spiraling into the black hole of vibrantless farewells
Long poem by
ravin Gupta | Details |
MY PRINCESS OF IMAGINATION
You are an empress of Heaven who descended on earth
A dear angel of God has taken birth
Your presence brings an awesome fragrance of joy
You are more beautiful than the Helen Of Troy
You resemble a symbol of peace, calmness, wonder and cheer
Like numerous scented flowers engulfed the entire atmosphere
Your presence enthralls the atmosphere with such an ardent passion
Flowers bloom, birds sing, oceans roar, Heaven rejoices in a supernatural fashion
Being a stranger but yet so familiar is an experience of mystery
I wanna be with your present, wanna be with the dreams of your future but never become your past history
I know nothing of you... but your life is a holy book written so well
Synonymous in nature to a religious novel
Every word of which would be so pious and divine
Their utterance will strengthen my soul and make it purely refined
And every word of which I wish you would share with me
And I would keep on listening with extreme curiosity
Hope this book of your life is so lengthy never ending and complicated
That while explaining me with clarity, your entire life is dedicated
Going through your inspiring life will make my mind so captivated
That in things of the world my attention will be never diverted
I would sync deep into your thoughts dreams and emotions
Explore your life like navigating through the depth of mighty oceans
The facts of your life will be as delightful as your nature
Synonymous in experience with a lifetime adventure
to be remembered forever
I wish I was a memorable entity always alive in the vicinity of your thought
Some one who gifted u a special feeling which is beyond the scope of being bought
Spiritual connection with you is magical pleasure. My soul rejuvenates a lot
Your life is extraordinary, it is an eternal bliss
Similar to such a wonderful voyage, the bitter past I shall never reminisce
Your soul resembles heaven's beauty filled with an angel's grace
I wish to find rest and comfort in such a sacred place
Worldly creatures are mesmerized by your supreme fragrance of serenity
The peace u provide, the calmness u bring resembles an heavenly entity
Synonymous to a medical replenishment of decaying souls to repair all their defects
Such that all disturbance, grief and sorrow are conquered and lose their effects
By the holiness of your spirit every evil existence shall perish
This divine revolution will leave behind only sweet remains to cherish
You bring forth the delight of eternity, a heavenly aura and shine
Which enlightens, encourages depressed souls, their lives renewed and new hopes defined
The everlasting impact of your presence inspires me to build an immortal attachment
And reside under your shadow which symbolizes an abode of holy settlement
I observe a pattern of silence in your behavior
I am unsure if this is part of your natural gesture
What is the reason for this sense of melancholy strain?
May be there is some trauma which brings you pain
Some moments of life you spend in mere solitude
What made u acquire such a lonely attitude?
I pray in your life there must not be any sorrow
Even if there is, I would willfully like to borrow
Any cloud of darkness over your life is beyond my tolerance
No power can besiege your holy throne of reverence
Alas and at last, there is something to say
I am striving with a pathetic feeling of dismay
Why I am so helpless that can not talk to you
Why are you a stranger? Am I some one so new?
Albeit a stranger, why I feel myself so close to you
Its my dream to talk to you for indefinite moments
To disturb this peaceful conversation, i would'nt prefer ugly opponents
The passion of my imagination is beautiful far beyond the facts of reality
Where in I understand your holy life book in the sacred place with sanctity
I believe you live on earth but exist in the wonders of heaven
Alas your presence in my life may be something I am against hope hopen
Wish for an opportunity to express myself to you
Seems an awkward desire as u consider me so new
In the vision of my imagination, I will always find you near
Your divine presence eliminates any syndrome of fear
And I promise to cherish your presence in my memories till my days are over
I recognize your adorable nature rather than your beautiful look
I already defined you Synonymous to a precious holy book
Wish these feelings on your mind will have a profound impact
Finding acceptance in your life is still an unknown fact
Unknown is whether I bear that supreme fortune to experience your acceptance
Or Else you would consider me unimportant and indulge me in repentance
Wishing you all the best in your future endeavors
To honour my thoughts, please do me some small favours
Give me a true promise that you will forget me never
Request you to cherish these thoughts in your memory with pleasure
And edify yourself as heavenly princess as you are an eternal treasure
Long poem by
Jamie Walker | Details |
The Curse Of Love
These words not yet spoken,
Stolen, before there get there moment
In the light, Before I get to look her, In her eyes
And tell her,those words on my mind
Even Before there wrote In pen, tonight
There Still living In my mind of I'm a broken
Poet....who Lost his way In life
Until my poems surface again, There somewhere In my crazy mind
Once again, It's Midnight...
And I wake, As I throw water on my face
I decide, To write but I'm now tongue-tired
My Scatter brain
Scattered ashes over my grave
Trying to Sleep with one eye open
But my eyes are already closing
As I hear the faint sound of the chime
Of the antic clock, As my heart come's to its stop
My death prolonged, So I can feel the agony
Of writers block, And then that sucker punch
In my upper lung, When I find out my wife's cheating
My heart sunk, Down the bottle to numb the pain
Punch drunk love again
I look down at a empty case
Because I couldn't get the courage to leave memory lane!
These words missing on the page
Become irrelevant In my drunken state
Some how it brings elegance to this empty white space
Because I picture her face, And a little piece of me dies again
A thousand miles away, But I stayed with you through blistering rain
Had to watch you, Lie to my face again and again
I wish I could wake and not worry about leaving you today
But I wake to the same raining Monday,
My heart breaks once again,When I see you leave to meet him
I know your cheating...
My soul's impaired, I can't find it in me
To Dance In the rain
This relationship once felt like floating on air
Now there's no air, Left we both left to suffocate
A relationship at taken its last breath
I miss me putting the smile on your face.. Wait!
We back up In the cloud, Nine,Everything feels fine
But I get scared everytime, You leave the house
Wondering If what you said was a lie
How can trust be replayed
The visions of her cheating In my head gets replayed
For you to say "you didn't do it" cliche
These words "I love you" now erased
When I said it "I love you" I meant it
You think your persuasive
But I know you can't face to say it, Pleading your innocent
When your here with me, The real you is missing
Your so distant From me
Her eyes are lost from the world we onced lived and breathed
Once it was only you and me
Now you say you going to leave me
Because I'mgetting needy
But Im just fucking grieving
My world is covered in a black clouded mist
Its those little things, That we miss
Someone to hold and gently kiss, Goodnight
So many good times
Those three little words that were repeatedly over worked
Didn't mean much to you, But they mean so much when
You feel Untouchable Our love, Unbreakable
Until our glass window broke,
It Shattered, I hit it so hard my first broke
But I Missed looking through the window Pane
My hearts, still aches
Frozen, white,lost eyes....
Until I rip up this page!, Just to express my pain!
It the only way convey my emotions
To get them portrayed on this page
Ice cold, I tried to show no emotion..
Tho a Flight of emotions, I'm
Going through, Teetering on explosion
In my mind blowing, up
I'm left out adrift in crashed boat that's just sunk
I see nothing but the open sea,
So There's goes my hope
My journey, A tale of twists
And turns, My love spell forever cursed
Underneath my heart holds roses
Now scalded black there burnt
Until I see, that I rest my head on this bed of roses
My numbers Up
My grave, today's date!
I guess you can call that poetic justice
states forever “broken” permanently engraved
On my grave, My tomb is locked the keys broken
To open heavens gates
But I'm still awake...
When all of a sudden An angel fell my way
My attention with her angelic face
So colorful, delightful, and beautiful like a florist
Her elegant dress
Bright white like tulips, her lips Begging to be kissed
Your heart The deepest darkest red
This Temptress triggering my revival
As I seen her walk down the aisle
Into the Entrance of our weeding church
The pigeons flying off their perch
I finally broke my curse
I always falling for the wrong girl
But not her
Now this girl is my world
As the quire are singing
She looks stunning her glow is beaming
Deepest feeling's that's approaching on immovable
I'm breathing again my hears started beating
It lilt the flame
To my desires
That's burning inside with fire
I'm swept onto sore
I'm falling for her
Like nothing I've felt before
She the one for sure
As we hold hands, walking along beach
Our feet sink though grains of sands
Are paths connected the dots
I guess everything happens for a reason
Or Perhaps Not
So I set fire to past
As I lilt the match
As we both ran
Out into the sunset..
Us if you can
I guess, Love hurts
But true love
Are the one's, Who pick us up
So now your the one I love
Your my one Love
I finally broke the curse of love.
Long poem by
William J. Jr. Atfield | Details |
Words come to me like spring.
They set free, they shed the shroud,
open with all their glory, beauty and sing.
They stand tall, they ring out loud,
from a life that blossoms with life’s renewal,
with its continuation and the energy it will fuel,
taking all living things, from their creation
to exotic places, the place of their final destination
and that of their destiny.
And destiny for you and me.
Words are my stairway towards the breasts
of heaven, its waiting arms and its protective nests,
where there is nothing that harms
- as one snuggles in its enfolding arms -
one on his journey down long winding roads
he has to travel with such heavy loads.
Words are the steps I have climbed, they take me
on adventures – and many, they have been – to see
me through the doors, ( doors of perception ) of my mind,
those places, where it is, I spend most of my time.
These pathways I have chosen to embark upon,
seem to linger on, and on, and on
through to the subconscious that doth confirm,
to consciousness, the light and I do learn
from the words, the life, the thought
flowing like meandering streams, into raging rivers,
rivers into seas, into oceans and ought
to take flight, light up the livers
of life on their voyage towards heaven above
where all might be pure love
for a soul and for that soul to know
what is unknowable to conscious man, what doesn’t show,
of what is not known to life, in its everyday living.
Words, for me, are knowledge, are for wisdom, for giving
to all of whom want to know for all those who want to grow.
B. J. “A” 2
March 21st 2002
Melanie, Dear Melanie !!!
My heart, Melanie, is aching.
My heart, Melanie, is braking
from the attitudes that never seems to cease.
They just seem – to me that is – to ever increase,
taking you ever deeper and deeper into ?, and further away
from who you are – what I feel and what I pray,
is not where you are at and what you are heading for.
It seems that there are few days left ?, before you are out the door.
B. J. “A” 2
March 21st 2002
My hours tremble, they shake in their passing.
The minutes I live, are pressing, they are oppressing,
for the thunder that rages, that is your presence,
I have no safe haven, no shelter, I have no defence.
To become completely silent ?, never to sing out,
to ring the bell that tolls of your life, turned about
expressed with anger, in the hostile words you shout
at me, words that let me see into, know something is amiss
in our little world, that once tasted the sweetness of bliss,
but now, has been destroyed, taken away !,
by what ?, by whom ?, who has lead you astray.
B. J. “A” 2
March 21st 2002
I have felt, for some time, and do feel the light
within you flicker, yet does not quite burn bright
for long, but one day, may just take flight
on your butter fly wings, not dried or out of sight
and carry you passed all in life – BAD – you tried, in darkest of night..
B. J. “A” 2
March 21st 2002
I have reached out !, I have tried to touch you Melanie !,
but have found, not but vapour, mist in my hands,
passing air, on the run, to an uncharted, unknown sea,
to far off, barren, dusty, desert lands.
I offer you, - my Daughter, my Child, - my time, my ear.
I would like to know, to understand, to listen, I want to hear,
but silence is all that comes to me, upon the turbulent wind,
on the run, in the air, stilled by this horrendous sin.
B. J. “A ” 2
March 21st 2002
Melanie, !!!, your fall, I find hard to conceive.
It is a picture, a movie that I do not want to believe,
yet it is all around me, but if I would perceive.
B. J. “A ” 2
March 21st 2002
A black hole
My life is caught up in this vortex called living.
This whirl pool, called life, sucks me in,
spins me round and around, giving
nothing, just drawing me ever downward, in,
into this it’s empty black hole, pierced by it’s swards,
laying my heart wide open, bleeding on my thoughts, my words.
B. J. “A ” 2
March 21st 2002
My eyes flow, they swell with red
rivers, in vain as painful waves
of tears, tears full of fears fill my head
as the pain, from within, fills the caves,
the hollows, the shelters in my mind, never put to bed
B. J. “A ” 2
March 21st 2002
Much to much time !!!
It seemed that I had too much time on my hands to reflect,
Too much time on my hands to project
to much time on my hands to infect
my days, my nights with what I did suspect,
and now the years have slipped by like lightening,
and all that once was frightening
has, with the passing of time, become clear
as time has shown, elevating all that I did fear.
B. J. “A ” 2
October 12th 2013
Long poem by
Justin Bordner | Details |
The Bedouins, bequeathed with the sacred beauty of paradise harsh,
trusted guardians of jealous gorges and gifted groves
lead me from the Wadi Musa to the humble ingress of Petra,
saying with thrill, the Jin of your Jihad awaits you White Lion,
we embrace as Brothers of Light and ancient dust,
their camels wise in soft steps
impart wide eyed, gentle blessing to me,
a shrill whisper of teasing wonderment
whisks the sand of centuries strewn small
with a cobra's awakening whisp and hungry hiss,
evening enters the terrible terrain
glowing a cool blue dark and daring
along with it a blowing a zephyr unzips the zodiac of my ancestors,
stars of a billion years sympathize with this soul sojourn,
alone I journey inward like a brave wish wafting
into a heart wanting to disgorge a secret need,
the smell of salt, sandstone and myrrh infiltrate
my mind with a mineral magic animating millenia of sovereign economics,
lamp light revealing the blush and rue of the the Siq's colossal rock hue,
shadows of caravan traffic bespeak exotic trade from distant industry,
narcotics from Kush, Persian rugs, spices and incense of Arabia,
jewels and hides from India, the medicine and silk of China,
beasts and papyrus of Africa, wine, weapons and art of Rome,
slaves beautiful and strong carried from every known ethnic throng,
a river of precious merchandise replacing the might of carving waters,
at the egress of this artery's eternal enterprise
I behold with burgeoning awe the Nabataean Treasury,
it's gladsome geometry a harmony of will, wealth and worship,
warm red cream stone become bone of a peoples' politic,
architecture for their angels and sanctuary for culture,
depository for dreams indebted to desert Deities,
I blow a kiss to the niche of Tyche, Goddess of fantastic fortune,
as I tighten my checkered turbin I hear a soft song
of Hellenic, Semitic and Arabic recipe, stringed hums with chime
and it moves me into the open, bleak basin towards the Monastary facade,
in the black of it's errie entrance a spirit of evanescent education
escalates my enchantment as corners wake to pathways,
murals like waving reflections stream across the walls
I see Moses crack the water stone for salvation
as the Holy Arch spirals an avalanche of absolution from Earth to Heaven,
Solomon and Sheba secure a trade treaty with royal love,
I witness Jesus in the Jordan with John the Baptist
kindly laying him in the steady float of faith,
then the tragedy of John's demise
by the sour ambition of Herodias, the whore of defacto power,
I observe the affection of Joshua Ben Joseph
with his woman of street sense as they endure trial after trial,
scenes of the Pax Romana and Judaen revolts parade
by my eyes as terror, torture and triumph
wear masks of glory and glee,
the Essenes embarking for the Dead Sea defense,
Muslims and Crusaders found not the bounty of this land,
here remains the treasure of Pharaonic voyage,
exiting with renewed moral for love
I look to the top of Zibb Atuf
where I see the thunderbolt of Zeus Hadad and cornucopia of Atargatis
burn sweetly in the night, periwinkle smolder signals righteous passion,
I feel you, my Love, paramount in the depth of every sense I have,
turning entranced to the Roman Theater I proceed to the north east rendezvou,
you are lovely and glamorous on the stage of amplified ardor,
starbeams spotlight your coordinated curves and fertile instinct,
you begin to seduce with a dance, breathtaking, impulsive balance,
moving with the smooth heat and poise of a breath blown candle flame,
a crescent of torches beautifies your frame, crimson silk wings from you,
I stand for a moment on the outer upper rim
gazing, with great heat upsurging through every muscle,
knowing you are jubilant for me by the way you move
I descend the stairs undistracted from the language of your invitation,
your cinnamon skin skims my own as you go round and round
and the crave for your ravishing rub forces my pursuit,
I catch your tender waist as you spin into my hunting arms,
your fingertips feel so right in my hands,
we sway like romance on fire in the storm of desire,
your restive back nestled inbetween my shoulders
my obsessed lips move up your neck in search for innocent sensitivity
overtaking your naked earlobe with a hot mouth and firm pull,
your body, begging to be breeched brutely calms slowly
as I release spontaneous poetry into your ear saying...
When the moon was young
unbattered by stone and age
glowing bold upon Earth newly spun
the first man and sacred Woman
made love of flesh warmly woven
from they're erupting hearts came wild knowledge...
Long poem by
Sergio Silveira | Details |
'We have a future king to make,'
Said the deep, resounding voice.
'But it is not a proper fit for everyone.
For a king must know first how to obey than to command,
And to abide rather than reign.'
'And thus, I need a volunteer.'
The eager little voices swiftly gathered ‘round.
'To have a throne and my own crown,' said a little voice with delight.
'A great palace for my home,' cried another, 'or a castle with tall ramparts.'
'I’d be above all others,' said yet another, 'that would surely ease one’s comparing mind;'
'And best of all, to be revered by everyone and through all time!'
'Don’t fool yourselves with thrones and crowns,' said a little voice from the side,
'Do not haste into a choice you may regret for all your life!
I’d rather risk oblivion and even want, but be free to choose my fate,
What is precious life for but to discover one’s gift and thirst?
You take that crown and throne, and you forever renounce the greatest prize you own!'
There were no volunteers at hand for that grand, distinguished life.
The once lively little voices now stood silent, with cautious glances in their eyes.
Yet they began to move a little, but not to volunteer their fates;
Someone was slowly coming forward all the way from far behind.
Soon, one single little voice stood ahead of all the others, and with a thoughtful stare, it spoke:
'I overheard a story once
Of a vast and balmy river
That braves across cold, stormy seas
So it can meet a fabled shore
And become one with it.
'Wearied from its long voyage,
It crashes beneath the sheer cliffs.
And as its froth caresses the jagged rocks,
It echoes the green, velvety meadows above
Which gently cuddle the harsh precipice.
'The wee, babe-in-arms coming king
Will hold that fabled shore in him.
For he, though one sole man
Will stand for an entire land.
And in choosing this destiny
Of that fabled shore I also shall be,
For it will be a part of me,
And I, humbly, of it.
'And then, there is the brave lad who in sheer fright,
Gathered all his nerve and leaped into the dark night
Over the unknown enemy’s laird.
Oh, how I would leap into the dark along with thee!
Though he is now long gone, he will live in me,
And I, humbly, in him.
'And the family who huddled deep beneath the ground
Through the terrifying shudder of the enemy’s raging rounds.
Then, to rise again, and not concede.
I was in that shelter along with them,
And so were a million others who were yet to be!
'Such as the young boy now walking to school on a quiet country lane,
To learn his Scott, his Shakespeare, his Milton, and his Keats.
I will follow him close behind, and my own feet shall grow within his footprints.
It takes no less than each of them to make a king,
And not more than lacking one to lessen him.
For a king, though one sole self, stands for all,
And all do stand for him.
'I know that in choosing this path,
I’ll forever relinquish command of my compass,
And may never find out what I could’ve become on my own,
Or what my true talent may be.
I will follow, instead, a course that has long been set,
By others, and not by me.
'But I have a strong hunch
That if I don’t put myself first,
Or what I feel I’m entitled to do and to have,
And choose, instead, to be fair, as best as I possibly can,
To those for whom I’ll be honored to stand,
I’ll eventually know who I really am;
And will meet, one day, the man I am meant to become.'
'Thus, I volunteer
To be the child who’s one day to be king.'
A newborn day blazed in the distance,
And a transformation was about to take place,
As momentous as the invasion of spring,
The rising of the harvest, or a mighty winter gale.
Nearly two thousand babies were coming to life on that land,
From that land, to that land, for that land,
And a single one amongst them exalted all.
Half a world away, a vast and balmy river
Was setting out on its long voyage to a fabled shore,
And nearby, radiant sunlight battled gray, stormy clouds,
So as to break through and paint in brilliant and broad brushstrokes
The lofty Highlands below,
And thus, be reborn as shimmering glens and moors.
Long poem by
T Wignesan | Details |
Metaphor of outrage, Translation of Carlos Bousono’s poem : Metafora del desafuero
( In celebration of a birthday)
for Andrés Amoros
Having been outside of you, yourself, dizzying voyage
the quiet, beggar
of your conscience, hermit
in the desert of your inaction, believing
only in the cactus/thistle, in the excessive stone,
without a hole from which to drink, without food, without bread,
miserable and without grove
like a boat struck by tempest
but a tempest not particularly disruptive, without the grandeur
of this sum of experience
in a sea, now, later, monotonous, without end, monochromic,
with greying water,
or, better still, without it, sailing on it in its non-colour,
sailing in the not-water, with continuity in the never-monotony,
or in the midst of ruins after an earth-quake
that leaves everthing low,
rather in a place where there was no house nor where they put up
neither was the floor split open, nor were there cracks,
there, exiled, without the remembrance of a lost country,
dumb, without the notion of a language ido*
all the shine shorn off, all persuation, all complaint,
irremediably left alone, but without solitude,
yet you hadn’t any memory of any earlier companionship,
there, where no form of evocation could touch you,
even if to accomplish this, you had to be precise with the previous
there, there you were with your back to your own being,
without seeing, without seeing yourself,
even if sometimes the opposite took place and you began to think with
who knows if for his (sic) condition, that is, principally,
which happened, during this period, to occupy
the totality of your attentions and which grew (perceived then as of
a short distance) with it,
your enormous knee, your extraordinary foot, your great foot,
stepping on the treeless plain with resonance,
in a clatter like the rattle of a tambourine,
your gigantic foot,
your treacherous leg, rotund, which grew longer, alone and
autonomous, to a point where nobody could ever reach it,
and after that, but only afterwards,
your entire body made up of indeterminate materal, of noise, such
that your skeleton without peer,
your terrible skeleton, advancing with great strides
towards no one, towards nothing,
everything of a sudden began to diminish in size and returned little
by little to its initial state,
and every part of your body began, by slow degrees – yes, this – to
absent itself :
first the flesh and the skin disappeared, and then your erect sex :
impenitent, the object of ridicule,
even if the nails continued with indifference to grow,
attentive exclusively to its pre-occupation with its strange sense
of avariciousness in an effort to acquire much more :
the hair, the beard, without paying any attention to how
parsimoniously it proceeded,
but, following which, that in itself, subjected to such a state of
enrapture, obliterated itself, and arrived punctually on the
generalization of the scrupulous duty to obedience,
which is to disengage itself, in all precision, without any exception
whatsoever, nor leaving even an iota of dust on the polished
surface of the piece of furniture,
the chaos of not being seen, the scandal of invisibility, of confusion,
there, on the obverse side of truth, on the other side of lying
on the frontier which it was deemed not worthy of being demarcated,
this area without topography where truth and lies appeared
as the self-same answer to the question that you didn’t pose.
Oh ! Beggar of your conscience ! Oh ! Scrutinisor !
Oh ! finicky Explorer !
Oh ! Celebrator of the unfortunate !
* Ido, cf. Idus, meaning the « Ides » of March, etc., in English. I don’t quite know. Could the poet be so kind as to enlighten us ?
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Long poem by
Shadow Hamilton | Details |
Although born in Scotland I have no memories of there as we left when I was two.
My first recollections are of Las Palmos in the Canaries.
I recall the donkey passing daily and being told he bites.
I was given a caterpillar and tended it, oh so carefully.
My mother when it was a cocoon persauded me to put it outside.
Well you can imagine my intense disappointment to find
that it had hatched and flown without me getting a single glimpse!!
This is the first disappoint in life that I faced. Our house had a flat roof
with a lovely garden on top and in the distance an enormous tall chimney.
I remember our boxer Susie she was real crazy especially on the beach
and while breaking open sugur cane it slipped and cut me wide open
right between the right thumb and first finger. I was taken to the doctor
who would you believe? poured iodine into it, he wanted to stitch it too, but no way
was I letting that sadist anywhere near me again. I still bear the scar today.
I recall seeing a woman dressed in black perched atop of a towering cliff
when we were out in the car my sister saw her too. We had to turn back due to
landslides and she was gone, she also had a pointy hat did we see a witch?
I had a wonderful dolls house into which I could walk, yet I took all my dolls
apart to see how they worked I was such an inquisitive child.
At five we returned to England living very near Hampstead Heath and Parliament
Hill fields. One day when my mother walked me to school I entered to find not
a single soul present so I walked up to my Aunts as she lived very close.
Needless to say I got into a real heap of trouble from both school and mum.
I recollect an outing to Hampstead Heath there was a cafe surrounded by a
large hedge from which I could never find the way out. I ran ahead and
entered through the hedge only to find my parents nowhere to be seen.
Of course I could not find the way out back to the car. This couple found
me and insisted on taking me to the police station four miles away I kept
trying to tell them I only lived two streets down from the Heath, Grown ups!!!
I remember always wanting to speak Spanish and people refusing to answer me
telling me I had to speak in English Bah! I used to ride my tricycle up and
down five stairs mum always telling me I would fall. Well one day my sister
called me and I tumbled down breaking my right wrist I used to stuff vegetables
up inside the plaster to avoid eating them. I hate most vegetables to this very day.
When I was seven we got Kim our German shepherd who we took to Africa with us.
I recollect the excitement of visiting Gibraltar and seeing the monkeys,
the mystery of sailing through the Suez canal the banks so close as to seem
touchable. A giant ray getting caught on the ships bows oh boy did it stink.
It stayed with us from the equator to Zanibar yuck! I looked on all goggle
eyes at the first dark people I had ever seen cowering by my mum as they banished
machetes in the air some with only one eye. I was trembling in my shoes.
Kim took a dislike to them as they teased her by poking her with sticks through
her cage. This dislike stayed with her for life. We arrived in Dar-es-Salaam
on my eight birthday. From here another tale begins, later to be told.
Long poem by
Alisha Groves | Details |
She was grace in its purest form. Thinking not and caring not of her
destination, she soars across the angelic sky on her tiny golden wings. Yet her
feet never left the cold laminated floor. Any spectator would have mistaken her
for a seraph the way she glowed in soft hues of purple and gold but she lost
herself somewhere along the way, a faceless body seeking meaning in a
meaningless world. The sanctuary of her bedroom window shrinks behind her
silhouette, leaving her hanging in the nothingness that is her unsettled mind.
She looked down to see the world disappear below and felt the cold of the
darkness creeping up her spine and chilling her empty heart. Her dingy gown of
solitude flaps violently against her broken joints, lacerating her skin, exposing
a starry void nestled under the layers of flesh that kept her essence from
scattering across the cosmos.
Faces fade in and out of her journeys uncharted path. Running through her
unconsciousness as a river flows and churns through the darkest forest in the
deepest corners of unexplored worlds, never to be seen or heard by a living
soul until they scream out in hopelessness, craving a connection with humanity.
These undisguised faces frequently accompany her while she floats into her
own personal abyss. Their presence at incalculable altitudes cause her to
question how high her feathered appendages will carry her. She would welcome
a fall from grace, anything to let her know she is still alive.
She hears the voices as they whisper in her ears, telling her she is not alone on
her voyage into the unknown. Assuring her that soon she will be able to come
home to the place where she belongs. Declaring that upon the return of her
fleeting health, she can get back to the normalcy of her uneventful mundane
existence. The life she held so near and dear out of fear of failure more than
the shear love of just being. The crux that was venom on her lips and toxin in
her blood. But her heart has a memory telling her that home holds no promise
of security and love, at least not anymore.
She returns weary from her flight to find unwanted intrusions in her padded
prison. A soft cry escapes her lips as her wings dissolve and her chance to flee
has vanished. Reality sets in and she realizes she no longer resides in the
safety of her own mind. She tries to fight against her restrains, struggling for
the freedom she posses only in disembodiment. Familiar metal bites into her
ankles and wrists, purpling her scarred paper skin. Sharp pains spread from the
injection site, adding another piercing to the tracks that up and down her limbs.
She listens to the hum of the fluoresce lights as they double in her medicated
vision trying to escape from the corpse that once housed her soul. Her eyes
dim, a solitary tear slides down her hollowed cheek and she slips back into her
only refuge, her beautiful delusion.
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be
requested in writing to the original author. © Alisha Groves
Long poem by
Robert Mayy | Details |
Drifting on the clouds I lie
With my head pointing
To yonder skies
In a sea of dreams
Where mind and spirit
Igniting natures prize
To feel like you are heaven bound
But feet standing firmly
On hallowed ground
But in the clouds you drift
As the cascade shifts
Your feet no longer touching
A lift off to a peaceful place
an Ease from pain
Heading to heaven
On the now train
No heading back
Settling in your own time
For the things that beset us
Riding our backs
Painting the surfaces
Filling the cracks
No longer weary
Nor hearing sounds
of hungry cries
Heading to glory
With the echoing of lullabies
Off on a voyage
With an opt out clause
Given by nature
When we stop and pause
And inflicted pains,
Looking for a redress
With sweet Refrains
eyes wide opened
To a beauty and a guile
Painted by nature
By the clouds on high
So I decided
to pause for a little while
Taking nature in my stride
in the clouds
artist at play
Mixing the co lours
Painting a picture
Inviting a crowd
Having her say
Without uttering a word
How the lines are drawn
The bold highlights,
And intricate designs
In shades of grey and pastel blue
With the turquoise borders
Depths of indigo
How can I not be taken in
Blending with unison
Of a presence and a place
Is it not inspiration?
That brought me here
My resting place!
That there is peace and harmony
In yonder skies
Wrapped in a woolen shroud,
Floating on high
As on a cloud I now reside
While in the depth
Of an azure sea,
over yonder a tide does wake
Surging to inner shore
A surfers dream
Riding its waves
Horizontally, I must glide
To cross over in spirit of the other side
I am at a time and place
Where though imagery
we can foretaste
Although somewhere different
in time and space
It must be like being in heaven ,
when nature take its place
At the cent re of the stage
revealing its beauty
So humble yet so almighty
There is complexity in every art
the very corners and intricate parts
Inviting the eye
Taking time out on a page
Syncing with beauty
Looking from the sky
Floating on high
In a woolen casket
Drifting on by
I am in no race
Just run life’s race
Off on another journey
A different time and a different place
An escape from the rat race
To find a new place
Full of joy and grace
That I would always be floating
from the skies
While the north east trades go wonder
Pushing on by
to open the seven seals
blessing my eyes
See what picture is painted
And the wisdom that it derived
In secrets of the wise
Recovering lost virtues
From failure to realize
Imbalance of the senses one cannot deny
But to approach beauty you have to switch off others
for another to come alive
Its not faking reality
But letting spirituality in
To be sublime but not yet ridiculous
But moving to another realm
Enjoying earthly blessings
While wishing changes in