Rind | Angelica Fuse
Peeling
thrown into
the garden
attracts
glittery teeth
while
the land
is dreaming.
poem of the day
Mom’s the Word | Ivan Jenson
I remember when I
knew that our long
windy conversation
was over
and that I had said
absolutely everything
to you
like a voice over
a montage of years…
I confessed, joked
bragged, sought advice
begged forgiveness
or crossed over the line
and made you cross
as I stood under
the crucifix
of your righteousness
yes, you will always be
Saint Ana Teresa
to me
and I still can’t fathom
all that you have meant
or why you now give me
this endless silent
treatment
More at http://www.ivanjenson.com/.
Greedy Gus | Daniel Klawitter
Greedy, greedy Gus-
Always making so much fuss!
He never wants to share-
Though he always has enough.
After all, it’s only fair-
And it’s only for the best:
That those who have too much,
Should share with those with less.
For if you hoard what’s yours-
You’ll soon run out of space.
And you’ll be like greedy Gus-
Who hates the human race.
Vista | Baris Semerci
supply demand curve
randomly chosen data
tell us something new
looking at the empty space
in a beautiful vista
More at https://twitter.com/hwl76/status/1259082428745953281.
Just for One Night | PYG's Whisper
Just for one night
can I stop pretending!
The more I see you the more I want you
In the darkness,
neither the moon nor candles nor even the sun
can illuminate my eyes
Only your golden glow
has the power to clean
the black feelings that cover my heart
Your smile painted
on your honey lips
makes me survive
As soon as I touch you
my body flies to heaven
My heart is lost in your chest
and your mysterious look
makes my mind confused
Is it love between us?
or maybe what I feel
is a stupid adopted imagination
of an old story about
the impossible love between
a slave and the princess!
Just for one night,
can you share with me your warmth?
Just for one night
can you play the role of the prince
who saves Snow White with a kiss?
Just for one night
can you forget who I am
and welcome my frozen body in your arms?
If it could be possible that I leave the world tomorrow
Let me put an end to my life beside you just for one night…
Afternoon | Dinka Bednjacic
Silently
The sun
Found its way
Filtered in,
Like a warm
Beaming friend
Settling in the chair
In sight,
Through
A window pane
Blushing
Scarlett O’ Hara
Blossoming
Waving,
Dancing,
With the wind
For a moment
Just one moment
In time,
All woes of
The living years
Suspended,
Enfolded,
Motionless
In the winter
Tranquil afternoon
The Hat | JD DeHart
Are you the hat
that sits decorating upon
my head? Here
I was thinking I’m
no hat person. But
we all change.
One day, goodness knows,
I may be a cane person.
Monocle person. Top hat
person.
One day I may move
outside of introversion
to a one-man show.
All because of the fabled
hat.
More at https://dehartreadingandlitresources.blogspot.com.
Ballerina Anna Pavlova | Ken Allan Dronsfield
Landing with softness of a downy feather
Butterfly kisses lovingly touching chiffon skin
Pirouettes and plies along the green oak sprigs
Now at rest in the bowers of the cherished garden.
Sultriness and beauty in her movements as
the orchestra plays of the spring equinox.
Fluted virtuoso’s play their twinkling tunes
as ballerinas dancing rises in the radiance.
Morning dew fairies blow evanescent kisses.
Humming a sonnet at the umbra’s crescendo
Anna Pavlova inhales the essence of the forest,
sauteing across the stage to a releves embrace.
The ballerina curtsies to the thundering ovation.
Our Lady | Igor Goldkind
You are our lady
of grace.
And now your dress
Is flames.
The beauty of your sunken dome from a drone
Is a poem in itself.
Written by us and
Destroyed by chaos.
This is what we do that rivals the stature of the gods:
To astound ourselves and each other,
With the wonder of
Pure, enduring creation.
The sacrifice we all make to our better selves
Who gave buildings wings and
Laid the foundation stones of our own perfecting.
Epiphany is not found in the act of worship
It is to be found in the insight gained by gratitude for the world.
Exactly the way we built it.
Exactly the way we know it to be.
Whispered prayers are but poetry
That none other than you will listen to
But it is good to talk to yourself
To sing in harmony with all those other selves
Who are listening,
Wearing
Not false, but true masks
Revealing the kind of truth that can only be told with a lie.
The subtler architecture that creates heavens from grand spaces on this earth.
Reconstructing what can be seen behind your faces,
Behind all the saints who guard you,
Behind the divine grace of your stature.
The sensuousness of your catastrophe is breathtaking.
More at https://igorgoldkind.wordpress.com/.
Another Madman Poem | JD DeHart
I tore myself to bits
and scraps
Then littered the earth
with myself
Then birds came
carrying me to and fro
Now I need a ride home
Spare some change?