Latest items:

poetry

patty turner, 25 september 2013

The Mask

are you blind that you can't see it?

the pain,
the suffering,
the tears.

behinde the mask i show.

am i good at hiding it?
or...
are you just blind?

i...i...j.. just can't
break the mask.

if you want my mask off
"THEN TAKE IT OFF!"

warm your way into my heart,
and take it off.

but..

would you bare my sins?
would you bare my pain?
would you throw yourself into my darkness?

are you willing to bare it all?

are you be afaird of what's behind the mask?
afraid of what the truth is...

a monster hidden inside

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Geetima Baruah Sarma, 24 september 2013

BREAK FREE

We are born free,
Yet find ourselves,
Fastened with shackles.

Attachments confine us,
Inflict pain at times,
A search for solace sometimes.

We yearn to break free,
Escape and flee,
To somewhere unknown.

But can we live alone,
Or can we stay long,
In a place unknown?

Responsibilities summon us,
Relationships beckon us,
To bring us back to reality.

[Published in 'Boloji.com' on 23 September 2013]

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Satish Verma, 24 september 2013

EXISTENCE

A toddler unrobes the secret
of death. Modifies the circadian
rhythm of honeybees, opens the
daisy clock. Cage of tears.

The virus had the acrid odor
of sulphide. Decay. It never happened
before. Spring was helpless. Primrose
forgot to secrete the nectar.

Stones were everywhere,
on beds, fabrics, eyes and berets.
The white walls were painted with
blue camels. Smiling?

A cold moon walks on coiled snakes
consuming the venom of incendiary itch.
The grey people were dancing on broken
glass. Blood will make the visitation.

Satish Verma

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Gert Strydom, 23 september 2013

Outside daisies are flowering

Outside daisies are flowering in the bright sun
white Iceberg-roses open their cups wide
but I am scared to say a word to you
and would have said deeper things if I could

but between us everything has become earthy
and far too fleeting is the hour
as if the highpoint of love can last only for moments
as if time, obligations and life constantly does us curtail

but still you are far past beautiful to me
although to eternity time flashes past.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Gert Strydom, 23 september 2013

At dusk

At dusk when the night
had stolen the last rays of the sun,
I heard you laughing outside in the garden
and your blouse was a bright yellow.
There were bushes of daisies flowering
and hand in hand we walked
before the shadows did come
and suddenly the sky was dark but open
with stars bedecking the whole heaven
as if they were hanging on a gigantic tree
and some were green, or blue or white
and like a young deer I caught you
and wanted to share these things with you
while the breeze was playing through the old tree.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 23 september 2013

A SECRET SELF

Every night this body
becomes a dissecting knife

a crime scene of blood
and unstrung flesh,

the lamb spreads the wool
for a deadly charge of skull plate

with a gift of mathematics
a moon cutout in sky

before the shadow of myth in the depth
of tortured chemistry:

the endless nothing will kiss the darkness
my blindness becomes a diet.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 22 september 2013

CONNIVED

Weaving fine fibres of unripe
beliefs, from a fire base, a blue bird

scrambles, shading the stone valley.
There was no thrift for the cadavers.

The burnt relics were eating away the greens
of tearful eyes. Sun was slugging again.

A gag, a prison, a list; the trial was not
ending. A smell of burning leaves from a

guilt of smouldering garden, seeps through
the procession of thoughts, something which

cannot be questioned. Red blossoms of
clouds distract the blue flames of stars.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 21 september 2013

A DEAD SONG

They were ready
to suck the crowd. The child was pushed
into lentil soup, boiling, to appease the rain god.

Shining masks, the celebration starts;
surging a myth, crown of hawthorn,
hallucinating dance.

The people lick their fingers,
feast for claws and incisers
I run for the cross, please wait.

Emptying tomorrow in the lifting
hands of blunt queen. The watercolor
was casting the vote.

A freedom descends on the wounded
legs, as they drag with nobility.
Thumb by thumb you clutch the tree.

Satish Verma

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Milena Sušnik Falle, 20 september 2013

OSIP

Življenje
na mojih ramenih
včasih zazveni,
kot brušen kozarec
rezan z diamantom -
na stičišču tistih senc,
ki potujejo z mano,
kot žeja
in glad.

Življenje
na mojih ramenih
včasih spodmakne
viseče dneve, poti…
tiste nepozabljene,
vrezane vase,
da v utvari pomislim,
kako meni poje,
zaljubljeni škržat.

Milena Sušnik Falle - Slovenija
(pesniška zbirka TEMPUS FUGIT - Čas beži)

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Salvatore Ala, 20 september 2013

Clouds Over London

... neither God nor No-God
Louis MacNeice

Not clouds but burkas naked on clotheslines,
Hawksmoor gloom with Horus eye,
Warzone Luftwaffe left-over thunder,
Lions’ heads on building tops,
Quorum of the heavens… London fog
And a neighborhood in London fog,
The ghost of Hitchcock at the window
Of his house gave the shadow of a doubt.
Nothing was real, not buildings or streets.
Only a waking sleep from cab to cab
And a destination from which you depart.
Not clouds but statues wet in flesh
And veil, as in “The Winter’s Tale,”
Or the dead likeness of a changing guard.
North of the city an explosion; south, a beheading.
Astride the block a shadow slumps.
The head of God, a cloud in a basket.

number of comments: 4 | rating: 2 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

The Mask

BREAK FREE

EXISTENCE

Outside daisies are flowering

At dusk

A SECRET SELF

CONNIVED

A DEAD SONG

OSIP

Clouds Over London

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