-0-
Breezy Twilight
Insaf Jaleel
The time for shadows has past
And now the cool air that makes you thirsty.
No one can speak because the sun has set
And the stars sprinkle into the milky blue-black sky.
I am in a dash for four miles in an hour’s time.
My eyes are on the grass knotting around my steps
And my ears follow my heartbeat mixing with the breeze.
Ahh, this breeze reminds me to look up to the stars.
I remember these stars in a dream.
They were affixed to a transient image of beauty.
I had been a child in my mother’s arms.
The flowers surround her
And she is always smiling.
Catch up with my memories.
This cool breeze would never have been
Had I not saw in one second
The dreams of my world tumbling to the end.
-0-
Interior mind
Guido Monte
(transl.into English by Liliana Lo Giudice)
With the Golden Bough, you enter
the earth wide opened mouth
to the subterranean sky,
to the very end of darkness
and hollow, under the dull light
of the black sun
you pass oceans of shadows,
beaches of fallen leaves,
the Angelus Novus who lets not looking backwards
people cross - you overtake the Father,
enlightened by fires of future lives,
pointing to the ivory door of misleading dreams.
An interior, hidden mind spreads around the
universe-
if eyes opened even for a moment,
they could see how things really are:
slow drops of rain on a window pane.
-0-
The Painter
darrell
Cut have I myself today.
I see only the walls falling in.
The strands of me serve no purpose,
The ripped ones colour the floor.
The men in white only preach,
They do not see what I see.
Vain were the attempts I made,
And this I shall do no more!
An artist seeking freedom probably,
The inflictions paint a masterpiece.
Today I looked for a new brush,
However I missed success.
The old one I had is over used,
Dull it has been for a while,
And wide and rough are its strokes,
Yet continue I must with it.
The world needs this knowledge,
Even if they want it not.
-0-
A MOVE, A LILY I C
(PS- The title is a riddle!)
~Ivan Gladbery
from northern face of my windows pain
my pine for you inside my brain
longing much your graceful clasp
around mine neck and heart so fast
as music twangs behind my ears
to soften distant words and tears
such ache inside like a diamonds crack
of wonder whence you’ll chance come back
most moments glittered dust and sour
sans magnificent gentle flower
porcelain lily dew dropped skin
which I am under but not within
-0-
Psalm of Dereliction
(Cate Espener - 2003)
Me with Mary, Joseph and the wean
Four symbols pounding pavement in the rain
No shelter to be found this weary night
To rest against the careless frown
Of earth's relentless curve
And the one great star above
That single eye of love to feed upon
Then moving on to another place of no regard
Sweet Mary lays her poor head down
Upon an empty sullen ground
No one to wipe the tears from hunger's brow
And as we all sit waiting for the babe
To make our innocence alive again
A cloud floats by as invokation to the sky
While earth's fond mouth denies
The tiny bundle wakes and cries
Another life, another story yet to tell
Once scribed by pen then wiped away again
The one great egg is once more broken
The crack of a delicate shell.
-0-
DEXTRA DEI
by Jameel Heath
Lightside burning while the nightside's turning,
in between the wise lay painfully learning,
casting off clay while walking with karma,
come forth! come forth by light of day,
who knows the words a Krist must say,
Sun crowned conqueror, this time foretold,
with spears full of ink, it's Pisces he'll slay,
gazing westward, death makes clear,
a heavy point in time draws near,
who's this sixth son whose face I can't see,
in the water that's pooling he soon appears,
calling down demons to preach The Law,
certainly showing no signs of fear,
arise! arise from hidden eyes,
the one which sees more than reflected light,
the one attached to something that never dies,
join now this twilight flight,
when dawn comes we'll separate truth from lies.
-0-
The Man Of Mad And Happy
Jordan Miesbauer
The madness that he has
when every else has none
He gets in my face
and says all that I hate
The room is colored red now
but I lock myself in it
letting it slowly dissolve
until it's painted blue
And then I can finally come out
but only to face his red brick wall
that he will never break
And then I get disgusted
just sitting next to this cold, red brick wall
Then just like it never happened,
his red brick wall disappears without a trace
leaving only his smiling blue sky above him.
-0-
Lost
Kenneth Maswabi (Australia)
I am lost, lost in thoughts, lost in dreams… lost!
My mind lays here stagnant,
My brain has locked, unable to wake me up.
I am consumed by the endless pain of loneliness in the mist of this desert.
My body aches with the pangs of the sun.
My skin screams at me in pain,
my conscious refuses to give in
My heart has slowed down, my veins are dry.
I am thirsty, thirsty for the drops of rain,
beautiful drops of love, hope and life.
My mouth has dried, no pools of water drains my throat anymore.
My stomach cries with hunger, songs of poverty surrounds me;
I am tormented, tormented by the whispers of my throat, questions from my
heart, answers gone, gone with the winds…the vapors of the evening.
I am lost,
a wasp on the newspaper -
save the apple-tree
heavy with fruit
Iliana Ilieva
Iliana Ilieva
-0-
Mind Monsters
By David O'Neal
When night is deep, monsters creep,
Children, men and women weep.
No one dares to fall asleep;
Monsters creep when night is deep.
When mind fiends fright, peace takes flight.
Nightmares hold us trembling tight,
And assault us in the night.
Peace takes flight when mind fiends fright.
When minds can’t rest, we protest -
It is a harsh mental test;
Devil’s thoughts do us molest.
We protest when minds can’t rest.
We think we’ll die, then we cry
When ghosts look us in the eye.
We seek relief from on high,
Then we cry, we think we’ll die.
Nights that stun are never done,
No place to hide, no place to run.
Please God! We yearn for the sun.
Never done are nights that stun.
-0-
Looking Up
Gracefully drifting through holes left in reason
Delicately dancing down to taste every season
I'll watch you sun, you'll warm my face
I wish I could offer something, something other than space.
As your beams float down, a thick border of light midst shade
The freedom to pick up and run, guided by the option to stay
The gift of the world lies solely complete
Whether the chill of the winter, or the mid-summers heat.
Though sometimes the rain can fall so hard
It's drops; the weight of the world
Sometimes it's saddening sheets of spray
Seem to overflow the curb.
It cannot go on forever
No matter what they say
As long as I can take a breath
I can wait until that day.
So when it gets bad, I know it could be worse
When the faces that we chase always seem to submerge
In the darkness and the hate, in which we create
Leaving shells of their souls on the side to waste.
Please warm my face, that's all I ask
On those days of pain which cannot last
I know myself and I know what is true
To warm my face, is all I ask of you.
-0-
What is Green
Nathan Rayes
Green is the color of various foods
Green is a forest.
It’s the sound of a chorus,
If you could see a bird singing;
It would appear in a several greens.
The color green can always be seen,
Even when you close your eyes.
Green is a swamp.
Green is whatever you make it.
-0-
The Hitchhiker's Way
BY AVERY HOCUTT-AND I'M PROUD OF IT!
It was late in the night when he rose from his sleep
And decided to ride to New England.
On his way the next day, he found that each road was steep
And that Earth’s but a prize for the proud man.
He has a radical’s soul and a hitchhiker's thumb
A Boston man’s accent and that old Irish charm.
But it is all worth nothing to those few promised some
Whose brave fighting men will never disarm.
He says, "Life spins 'round
Like a merry-go-round...
Like a little boy’s top in an old Catholic
town
Like the toy of the child who is my own lost son
Who’s a long ways away, and cannot be found.
But he will be...
But he will be...
But he will be..."
There was a hitchhiker thumbing a ride to the sun,
Just to find himself face to face with a friend's gun.
He said, "Truth be told, I've lost my way
And I see that you've lost yours.
And there is not much more to say
For all has been said, nothing more.
Just tell me this, my dear friend gone astray,
Along the way, was it fun?
So said the hitchhiker to his friend,
His friend facing him with his gun.
And said the sad man, in return to his friend,
"Sadly, I've not found my way.
But though the way rough and the perils hard,
I suppose we had fun in the end.
Yes, I do think it was fun in the end.
So said the sad man from behind the gun
He was pointing towards his friend.
The hitchhiker’s thoughts were spinning around
And he suddenly thought of his father at home,
And he repeated the maxim of that old proud man:
"There will always be trouble for we who roam.
Yes, we wanderers are always a poor lot indeed,
For we never are having a home.”
The friend lowered his gun and he lifted his gaze,
And he said, “A worthy saw, of one so brave
As to set out with no idea of his fate
Or of what will go on in the end.
But, listen closely to what this one says,”
So said the hitchhiker’s friend.
“The way you choose to feel about life
Is your life’s biggest choice to make,
But, regardless of what path you choose,
Your destiny is God’s to dictate.
And always, no matter what you choose
You will constantly meet with fate.
Like Adam and Eve, and the apple they ate,
You will certainly meet with your fate.”
So saying, the hitchhiker’s friend tuned around,
And shouldered his gun, and then went away,
And left the hitchhiker to think of his words
And eventually, he, too, went on his way.
And he wandered the road,
And he met with his fate,
And he met with the humble, the proud, and the great,
And he never forgot that the choices he’d make
Were the most vital things that he owned.
No, he never forgot his decisions were his,
And the most vital things that he owned.
He sat in the shade of an oak tree one day,
And to himself hummed a song without tune:
“They tell me”, sang he,
“That the fork and the spoon
Ran away, and are not to be seen.
They are said to be lost, and they won't be found soon
But they will be...
But they will be...
But they will be...”
He fell back into a profound sleep
And dreamed of the days of his unblistered hands
And the days of dreaming, the days of the weak,
And the days of living upon his homeland.
And it seemed that he said to himself in his sleep:
“It will still be...
It will still be...
It will still be...”
And one day, he met an old hitchhiker's son,
Who was thumbing a ride towards Boston.
The man said, "Truth be told, I've lost my poor way,
For my life no longer has any sun.
But I can keep living, day after day,
And listen to what others before me say,
And we shall see in the end who has won.
Yes, we’ll see in the end who has won."
Continue in OPEN MIC ENCORE I.
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Page Copyright © AHApoetry.com 2005.
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