Details |
Anja Benevento Poem
The amateur click
Staggers like
Amateur words
Across stained glass
Autumn and
Skeleton winter
In which black
Water resembles
Not remotely
The sea clear as
Crystal
And echoes only
A shadow of the
Imperfect
A portrait of a façade
Wrinkling with the slightest breath
Like loose skin on taut knuckles
Leaving a mirage
Crude and inaccurate
As the syllables
Describing the phenomenon
In which the
Reflection itself becomes the
Fixation
The blurred image
Vaguely lucid
Copyright © Anja Benevento | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Anja Benevento Poem
Twilight whispering his memories makes
Far more eloquent a teacher
Than minds subservient to sun, moon,
Or stars dancing for universal glory.
In this ethereal kingdom the
Absence of time and space do
Not impede upon the existence
Of music, scent, caress—
But rather endow everlasting
Thrones with power over raging
Seas of molten emerald and
Clouds, soft and real, beneath naked toes.
Fairies, delicate lavender-scented harlots,
Fall up into the heavens to paint a
History of the stars and indulge upon
The vain wishes of mortals.
There is no act more brilliant than to spend a
Lifetime cutting facets into these obscure gems—
Chipping away until their luster
Shrouds every original flaw.
Copyright © Anja Benevento | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Anja Benevento Poem
New leader of the free world,
Riots both silent and raucous,
Flames spitting out from trashcans
And barrel drums,
Demonizing the tearstained faces
Of children and mothers, men emasculated
By their failure to provide,
Dreamers of fairy tales.
And it’s a lovely thought—
That things would be different with another elect.
Always greener, the grass,
Though before us lies a vast plain of sienna,
A box of matches,
Beyond us a whole universe, laughing (I should think)
The point we call Sun dwarfing us by more than a million to one,
Itself dwarfed by trillions of others.
Copyright © Anja Benevento | Year Posted 2016
|