by Marcello Comitini We fell asleep against each other on this side of the garden gates the wings of a seagull cast their shadow like that of an angel with a drawn sword. A fire rises from our bodies. On the horizon a red sun dyes the leaves of the new day. A fruit has… Leer más The gates of the garden
her words awakened physical pain in him the mere sound of them was like claws scratching against his brain When she’s old enough, a mother can hurt her son like she never could in her youth Listening to her now, he felt like crying And she wasn’t even cursing him She just looked around and… Leer más words that hurt by Bogdan Dragos
by mikesteeden Before, in the putative asylum of her bedroomwhether alone or in the company of loversthe one of curious Grecian genesis would alwayskeep alight the loose hanging shade-less bulbAs a vocal self-proclaimed freethinkerthose who understood these thingsthought this her greatest contradiction The ignorance of brawn afforded himan ability to see past the light andinto… Leer más CARDBOARD CITY
by Rana A narrow escape from the dry land of my heart My amorous emotions search for a place to stay Rendering dreams to the canvas of my loving soul Feelings tend to rise above my plight, all the way Redirected to the storm of passion inside me I grip your succulent pink lips, without… Leer más Lips
by Daniela Topîrcean I was picking blades of grass, four-leaf clover, white flowers scattered in sweet insomnia of love, of herbs without a cure. … Endless tender herbs, white flowers were rising on my ankles. … you were in a hurry with a cup of hot tea, to help me heal of this blue symphony,… Leer más Blades of grass
By Anna Akhmatova By Blog SONGNGUTAITRAM Vietnamese art and literature, beyond borders) Seaside gusts of wind, And a house in which we don’t live, And the shadow of a cherished cedar In front of a forbidden window … Perhaps there is someone in this world To whom I could send all these lines. Well then!… Leer más Before Not Sending a Poem
By Vũ Ngọc Giao, translation by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm *with my other namesakes . I’m sitting side by I in the echoes of a crackling waterfall spilling into dusk . there in a staggering moment the saddest of birdsong the tweets of a lifetime ! . December 2020 Vũ Ngọc Giao, the Vietnamese musician… Leer más DRINKING ALONE
by the time she was done rolling that cigarette it looked like a broken, gnarly twig regardless, she put it between her lips, lit a piece of nacho on fire and used that to light the cigarette and then just watched the nacho burn until the flames reached her fingers “Do you remember when dreams… Leer más black and white dreams by Bogdan Dragos
by Rana My last wish for survival Would be the main attraction An improper fraction Oh! I think There’s one way in to be Swiftly washed out I witness Downtrodden respect from the last sips Of your lips, you’ll think about me Dignity Holds my head in secrecy Then orchestrated compelled Annoyingly dry spellbound Love… Leer más Dry Land
by Riya Yadav Tried to search the best of me In black thunderstorms and white sunshine My mind, a prism It paints me blue Better live or better die Longer the wait, less is the need Forgetfulness is a bliss These dreams, worthless For a person like me Who hits harder by reality than lies… Leer más Colourless
by Marcello Comitini I am alive I am awake I am flooded with light vernal of your gaze. You look for me, you hold tight on to my ches you go away following the rhythm of oriental music vibrating sinuous an invocation to the sun that prolongs this night of love. Dance, slave of my… Leer más Oriental music
this was needed One more strong coffee one more poem and then he would go to sleep it was almost morning he would sleep during the day and return the next night to write more poems His lower back was hurting It was either the kidney stones or the hemorrhoids or both or something entirely… Leer más a matter of days for both by Bogdan Dragos
by Bob Shepherd (*) NB: Several of the examples I use in this essay come from various essays by Randall Jarrell that I read years ago in my own wayward youth. If this were a scholarly piece, I would track those down and footnote them. But it’s not, so I won’t. I’ll just let this… Leer más On Putting Powerful Tools in Unskilled Hands: Two Egregious Tendencies in Contemporary Poetry
he did have a dream of becoming a writer in his youth but youth doesn’t last forever One day he grew up and had to pick a real job. He studied journalism and became a reporter It was today’s task that reminded him of the old dream. He had to interview unpublished writers A lot… Leer más interviewing unpublished writers by Bogdan Dragos
by DidiArtist Life is like a journey Through the landscapes Of impressions and events DidiArtist, 24.09.2021 https://didisvgp.wordpress.com
Grey black rain clouds become heavier, if they are lighter travel long distances with the wind. The thunder of the clouds and lightning strikes. A downpour of rain and the umbrellas run. Due to monsoon winds, rustling of leaves. The rain filled the fairof rhythm and melody and noisy flowing springs. The air cools and… Leer más #poetry: A Downpour Of Rain by Jane Aguiar
By Michele Lee In Verse, Writing With my writer brain occupied with polishing a manuscript, it seems the perfect time to feature award-winning American poet, Kim Addonizio and her bold and unapologetic poem, “What do Women Want?” This poem contains one bad word and lots of sass. Enjoy! “What Do Women Want?”by Kim Addonizio I… Leer más “What do Women Want?” (poet spotlight)
the crystal glass sat alone and empty on the window sill She watched it and studied the imprint of her lover’s lips and fingertips on it “Damn, I’ve never seen you empty,” she said to the glass. “How did we get here?” A good question, she realized. It probably starts from growing up with a… Leer más I’ve never seen you empty by Bogdan Dragos
by Marcello Comitini I want to give a name to my silences a sound reminiscent of harmony of a song accompanied by the night. The key to access the hidden secrets behind a wall of uncertainty. Scan the caesura and the reprises, the air of war, of hunting and chains behind a taut, resonant string.… Leer más Sounds
de Daniela Topîrcean I was doing exercises of balance on the waves of love, breeze breathes my anxiety in chest inflating its innocent sails and my words were lost in your silence in unknown thoughts, in immense-blue-uncertainty on which I was sailing by pirouettes alchemizing the waves painful, secret, a ballet of the soul mysterious… Leer más With Love
Gobblers & Masticadores 