In Memoriam

Submitted by   ECAW’s blog

.

My grandfathers were respectively at the Battle of Jutland and in the trenches.
They worried about feeding their families.

My father was in North Africa.
He worried about The Bomb.

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Maturity

Maturity is intense

To release the tensed

Coming with drawbacks

In a dose of love.

 

He said, “Maturity is key

to end the unwanted shouts,

trying to be real

along with the reflection

in the eyes.”

INJECT AND INFECT

Inject and infect

The love in my veins

To surrender the pain

To be lost in your aim.

 

The infection is not in the blood

It’s in the mainstream of the love

The soul wants the cure

In the form of art of love.

MY PHONE

It’s ringing

again and again

to coordinate

with the time.

 

The cords

have connected

the right connection

after a while.

LOSE OR GAIN

“Love is the way messengers

from the mystery tell us things.

 

Love is the mother

we are her children.

 

She shines inside us,

visible-invisible, as we trust

or lose trust, or feel it start to grow again.”

-RUMI

BURST OUT

My veins are all charged up

Giving pressure to my nerves

The indicators are so excited

To blast inside

To say louder and louder

That, I am satisfied in my zone.

Woman At The Jetty

A blueberry scarf
is the ring of her neck, a promise
to remain warm when clutched by the chills of love – it’s enough.
Enough to block the ravaging eyes, keep her head
snug and rooted on her shoulders,
keep her mouth speaking foreign languages
and her ears keen.

Lament (a Cento)

Our one forever,

when it stole through the red gates of sunset
left over from autumn, and the dead brown grass
is yet vibrant with the cadence of the song you might have been.

No longer mired in waiting to begin.

They tell us the night means nothing,
and the candles their light the light.

Dusk

Faster, the light docks in its crawl. The hall
between her breasts burns like a lemon. The seeds
in her eyes she veils with her arm, dips
her cherry chin,

I wanted.

I wanted to be your rain
As you are my sunshine
So we could make rainbows

I wanted to be the rock for you to lean on
In your times of smiles and tears
But little did I know, it’s use to crush my vows

Static Force

Our hands have become limp.
I guess this is when the leaves fall off the trees.
The Cascade snow fills the reservoir for my home,
but night and day, all I hear about is our rain.

The Ancients II

Submitted by hitalot879

.

In a poor house under a bridge
staggers three rocks and a current flowing
water trickling down;
horizon in the clouds
a shroud filled with noise
good cause to learn,
they were their from the beginning
certainly until the end

Rapid fire round!

He said,“ let’s play

rapid fire round

in a mystic way,

close your eyes

imagine the world

that shines up the sky.”

 

She insisted on the fact

“ why to play this game?

when the glory is all set

to open the wings

of purity and divinity!”

If You Could Break Me

If you could break me
how many pieces would you strive for?

A split in two,
have me broken down into fourths,
a complete s h a t t e r i n g –

Observation and Implementation!

Observing the sky

In the moonlight

Observing the sea

In the sunlight

Observing the mountains

In the sunshine.

 

In the kitchen!!

That figure

Coming to my mind

Like the intervals of time

With some excuses

To cheat in the present

With the past hours.

 

Why to crib

For the sake of

Was it like a cupcake!

With a strawberry touch

Soft and spongy

To water the lips

With the desire of.

 

The cords have been trashed

That figure is blurred now

With the passage of time

Still wondering in the moonlight

If I could have a glimpse,

I would have shown the courage

Inside the foolish fellow.

 

It sucks just temporarily

When the figure is no more a figure

It has become a dark spot

With some darker shades

Just to ruin you from outside.

 

Smelling the past

Was sometimes an easy attempt

To cook and fry the present

In a crispy way

With a mint flavour

To sauté some figures

In a fresh recipe of life.

 

Bhavya Prabhakar

---

PHOTO BY PEXELS

Do I Get Up

Do I get up. What will I have for breakfast.
Should I have breakfast at all. Will I take the bus or walk.
Talk to a stranger, perhaps not. How do I look today.
How do I feel today. What is my neighbor feeling today.
What is the scientific name for the maple tree.
What is the dog that is barking barking on about.
How shall I get on working today. How shall I have my tea.
Where shall I go to lunch. Is my friend swimming in the ocean.
Is my lover at Smith Tower. Is the grass sad.

Loveth hast fallen down

I dreamt, living with thee
Hast the pain not steered up.

I gaveth my heart to thee
Expecting thy loveth to beest me.

Different Flags

Submitted by J. M. Galindo

.

We’re at war
and we don’t even know
that our land is now broke in two
with different languages
and different customs
invented by our egotistical minds

Different flags
different ways of selfishness
to prove ourselves
we haven’t grown at all

Westward Window

Sierra, my home. Bedroom the sky. Holyholy zoom, the eagles,
directing my eyes I am a habitué, dawdling gazer with
a wide brimmed hat, flounder(er) with my words I trip over
the too large robe of my praises.

“A silent walk through the Doré”

Submitted by zaroffpoetry

.

We could speak of falling rebel angels
pursuing Death as war.
hilts of gilded spears that pierce sorrowed hearts so very far.
Ravens setting sail from the scythe’s brilliant steel blade.
Christian Armageddon cut off clouds of white hosts,
crying as life passed from soft pale faces.

Words

Deeply is the word he professes
in lipless verses, bent eyes and a high collared coat.
The heart is never worn on a sleeve but often
breaks over a lover’s face like moonlight.
We are unconstant, unstable, unmanageable
under the Terms and Conditions of Modern Love.
We check no boxes, gather no bouquets,
make no stringent declarations or mad attempts

POEM: Users

crumbled parchment on the floor
words rejected now once more;

the roses you sent long dead
soft red petals hard faded;

Going Blind In The Sunshine

Watch my eyes, they dip and dive, my hand over my mouth,
my chin in my shoulder, away like the cold – it’s spring. Let’s go.
The trees are shaking off their bitter time spent contemplating their
poesy to sing. Now, they begin the music, green notes illumed
lightbulbs, they’re on. Let’s head outside into the ramose sunshine.

ARE THE IDENTICLE

Submitted by FeelPurple

.

two journeys together,

one which is caring for kids as a mother,

collecting pennies for the future,

living and doing the daily chore,

cleaning and making the pancake batter,

duty

Submitted by Deb Whittam

.

It was a ritual, it was essential
For it made the day complete
But he was circumspect
He knew he had to be discreet

POEM: Poverty

He stands on the median,
wearing a cardboard sign.
Politely asking strangers,
if they could just be so kind.

She Swims The Night

She swims the night; the street is her sea. The street is her wave,
that clashes and eats at her tired soles. Unmarried women
don’t walk alone, so she dares it – whispers, Come on, breathy anxious
with wheels going round in her inner life. The troglodytes remain
shut up in their homes, rectangular mirrors smiling in their eyes.