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Best Poems Written by Mari Bond

Below are the all-time best Mari Bond poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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From Thirty - Seven Years Old To Gojo

Along the Turkish lanes - I had to ,
An outcast with face held high, 
But with the lowered in soul,
Where the yellow walls 
Are scratching the shoulders without touching,
I think of you.
Almost found a way to escape for days,
That you can count with one fist.
From this not native country to native,
To that native bed where you were not every night ,
Not hours in a row, 
But just sometimes.
 
*Gojo, a gypsy name, means beautiful.

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All About One 2

Earth,
Buried it's forehead
To your heat.
The body lay down.
I'm about to snap,
And love will spread my stomach,
By Infinity.

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Untitled

***
I 'm like a vulture ,
Poems drink souls.
I am, like a cold tower,
In which, Peacefully
You'll smother the cold.

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Who Will Voice Out

Beautiful, sleeping, head of a pig.
In the refrigerator erected
Like in a showcase.
It's being watched,
It is admired.
It is discussed by progressives
People.
But who will voice,
That this is a cast of pain,
And the eyes
Are not closed,
But squeezed shut.

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From the Cycle Heraklion

When I left the city,
Or was it the city that left - but I took the core of it with me. 
The axis of the earth. 
The pupil of the eye. 
I remember I put my heart next to your being. 
In a chest woven with azure, 
With my eyes , fixed in different places at the same time I was kissing the sun.
The swing of time quickly passed, 
And lying in the warmth of my thoughts about you, 
It seemed I was immortal.

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Boundless Mutual Worship

How long will you stare
at my Blurry reflection.
Will we plunge into the enchantment 
Of the distorted .
Frightening tenderness so nicely 
Cuts the sternum.
As well sounds in the depths of blood - stained feelings , 
An affectionate command .
Oh, and it wouldn't disappear forever overnight ,
If we knew the boundless mutual worship.

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Untitled

***
Then, the white robe.
In it, body bronze.
On the face, scarlet viands of wide mouth .
A boy , with girly  ,
White , desirable beads 
With him always . 
For them, will not regret the shoulder skin.

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Royal Wanderings

The skin on thighs is cracked.
And what's below, don't look, from the heat,  running and dust.
From wandering .
Once royal fabrics
Evaporated , 
Are eaten away by time in search .

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Purl

I'd like to be dressed 
In stretched clothes that you're wearing like a taming.
I wouldn't try to climb on the fabric,
To climb with elbows on the shoulders.
I would be closer to you
Exploring attire
From the inside .

Details | Mari Bond Poem

To Nymph Florence Welch

Florence, Flower,
Where is mysticism?  Where is the ghost? 
Where is , what the water gave you?!

Where are you - "Alone", the one that was deserted.
Well, there's A Crowd around, 
it's cut into your very word.

Falling, there is you!
And now , your camp has moved to the foreign lands.

Oh, I see something has enveloped your flow. 
Fight him! 
Come back! To our wild forest.
Don 't give yourself away .