Latest items:

poetry

Gert Strydom, 16 may 2013

In tribal dress some smiling girls pass me (cavatina)

In tribal dress some smiling girls pass me,
their bare breasts shake,
there is something natural in their gaze
like cats that wake
to the world around, predators moving;
a small keepsake
swing on a golden chain in the valley
of breasts, I am caught in the small alley

while in a throng they pass with sweet laughter,
captivating
like big prowling kittens they move along,
they are eating
me up with their huge gleaming dark brown eyes,
are debating,
are sneaking up with a wild innocence,
yet with a clear mature insistence

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Gert Strydom, 16 may 2013

On the street (cavatina)

Daily I see bearded men with turbans
around their heads
dressed in white cloaks, women carrying
their prayer beads
in some colourful saris while in rags
a beggar pleads
and we are worlds apart from each other,
in their views and life some do not bother

and I am dressed in shoes, pants and shirt,
always wearing
one of several costly suits to church
have anything,,
take a collar and tie to business
where I fit in
but are disregarding the poor old tramp
are viewing him as just another scamp.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

che, 16 may 2013

in dreams

my caged heart can never be free. while you are the keeper, the one that holds the key. even in dreams i cant let you go. either waiting for you, or or chasing your shadow. i catch sight of a falling star. which leads me, to where you are. through the waterfalls, across still lakes,beside the ancient tree. i find you there,,my angel, watching out for me.......................................................... *** i will protect you, i will hold you,,,, if if you will follow me back home. come ,dream with me tonight,,,my love so i dont wake alone..

number of comments: 1 | rating: 2 | detail

David de la Croes, 16 may 2013

Love Letter

I wanted to write you a poem,
but there are not enough words
in all the languages of the world
to express the essence of your being.
I wanted to paint you a picture
to exhibit the warmth and brightness
and beauty you bring to my life
but there are not enough colours
in the spectrum of light to illustrate
the intense vividness of your presence.

I wanted to compose
you a symphony to give harmony
to all the music you bring to me
but there are not enough notes
in the musical scale to bring forth
the melodious nature of your being.

And so I write this simple letter to say:
You are my first thought in the morning,
and the last thought at night,
and in all the moments in between
I constantly think and dream of you.
I love you. Always.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

David de la Croes, 16 may 2013

Mother

You were gone before my mind
could grasp the brush which paints
faces on memory's canvas.
Vaguely, flashes of an open grave
on a sunny winter's day -
bare feet on my fourth birthday -
and pitiful looks from unfamiliar faces.

But I remember lonely childhood days
when I would visit your grave
bringing flowers picked from sandy fields -
And other times I would just come and cry
when it seemed I was the only child
in the whole wide world without a mother.

Poverty sent you to an early grave
and was my childhood's constant shadow.
Of all your children I was the lonesome one,
always seeking solace in solitude,
always wandering in lonely paths,
an exile from embracing arms
and motherly healing kisses.

Through the years I tried to reconstruct you
through siblings' tales of your mothering,
Although heredity ensures that part of you
will live in me and will continue in my off-spring
I felt I needed more than scientific fact
to find meaning in my sense of being.

Death has stripped me of you
but death has no power over love.
I am a fruit of your love, and as long
as I am able to approach someone in love,
I am connected to you. You are long gone.
I am still your son.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 16 may 2013

WE WILL SCREAM TOGETHER

Managing his guilts to seduce the nocturnes
he left the gray area, surging
with a wandering death on the
half broken stairs
before a closed gate was put on the pages,
he was trembling like toothed quaking aspen.

The grief of the scarred face,
in a serious midnight syndrome of
invisible slit throat in a long journey manifested
above the waves. Tree was calling again
for immoralism of flowers, quashing
his life.

The brave violence survives the mutilated
dreams.For once the mirror has won
again the onslaught of fingers.

Satish Verma

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Shadowpain, 15 may 2013

Of lovers gone by

Lonely leaf filled with grief

Floating amidst the waters of disbelief
Shed its colours into the deep

a climb that was too steep.

Draped in dread and discontent
my feet bury themselves in melancholic sand.

Our carvings overgrown
Drifted apart
living on our own
The statue reduced to a chunk of stone

the soft vibration of your skin that flakes like snow
and pours like tears over that lovely face of yours

and the eyes
of lush spring and blissful green
that carried me to worlds unseen

appaled at the echoes of cheery whispers and breath

the beating sound in my head that is your heart

now like autumn leaves....driven apart

But my dreams give me flight

My memories keep you so close, so tight

The water is cold

and i'm sleepy

i'll be with you soon....

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Alicja Kuberska, 15 may 2013

The Flying Dutchman

I'm losing hope.

I close my eyes and fly in the air over the unfulfilled promises.

I'm breaking up the anchor, going away hastily.

The thoughts are rolled like sails in stormy weather.

Some of them are just the tattered illusions sadly waving in the wind.

And it would be so beautiful- I think in loneliness

I feel the waves of disappointments overflowing .

Are there the drops of sea water on my face or maybe only tears?

Feelings have the destructive force of a tornado.

Dreams about a safe harbor vanished in the fog of helplessness and grief.

I do not know the meaning of the word “peace”.

Distrust sentences me for another journey.

It is impossible to forget

Dissolve in reality - to become nothingness

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Satish Verma, 15 may 2013

FAILED IMMORTALITY

Blaze was coming to terms
ith pyrotechnic cascade.
The dignity was emotionally drained out.

The persona turned to anima,
to find out the answer
for quality verdict.

A rogue mission had flattened
the brain. The piano man was dead
and climate was changing.

The safe, warm and wrapped up
seed, hiding in the mouth of a
drowned moon exploded in the silent

sea of telling thoughts.
A trembling tongue will spurt
out translated earth.

Satish Verma

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Gert Strydom, 14 may 2013

It was too dark to notice the flowers (cavatina)

It was too dark to notice the flowers
of early spring,
the stars were out in their bluest white blaze
they were shining,
moments were more intense in that black night,
doves were cooing
while your lips soft warm sweetly did find mine
the very moment was somehow divine.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

In tribal dress some smiling girls pass me (cavatina)

On the street (cavatina)

in dreams

Love Letter

Mother

WE WILL SCREAM TOGETHER

Of lovers gone by

The Flying Dutchman

FAILED IMMORTALITY

It was too dark to notice the flowers (cavatina)

Latest comments:

contact with us