PRAGUE, CENTER OF THE WORLD

I was happy in Prague.
Because I drank the best spirits
Meet a historical fact
Yes, Prague is a country of existence
Where people are very happy
I was a tourist one day.
But I felt like it every day.
I am their resident.
Because they are really good people.
Historical battles are shown
Where people with swords fought
For the history of his country
In all this, it is as if I find myself
Because the meaning of life is my existence.
Love was born in that wonderful time.
When no one cared, it wasn't
Prague is the centre of the world for me.
Because I feel free in it.
The reason for life is now more persistent
Because the Czech Republic is the land of peace and happiness


COLD WEATHERS
Winter has come
In a white coat
There's a man standing
That was me.
And I looked around
Austria is a country of cold
Rich in Mozart balls
Eight euros and much more
I was amazed by the garden
At Schoburn Castle
And everything is as if they are in a dream.
More than ever especially
Because I'm so happy
Why I meet people at night
Culture and Art
I appreciate everything about them
Because they are people
Similar menu
Cold but beautiful
Because the meaning of life is
To look forward to a new day
Coming to me
Austria is my dream
To experience it again
Because love is very clear
When I have what I want!

Maid Corbic from Tuzla, 22 years old. In his spare time he writes poetry that is repeatedly praised as well as rewarded. He also selflessly helps others around him, and he is moderator of the World Literature Forum WLFPH (World Literature Forum Peace and Humanity) for humanity and peace in the world in Bhutan.

Seascape with Gulls: 
My Father’s Last Painting

An Ekphrasis
by
David R. Topper


Look,
they are not your usual strokes.
Not the stringent way you controlled your brush
all those years 
from Art School to an evening hobby to
this Seascape
that water
these waves
those gulls.
A lifetime drawing & sketching
mostly painting, mainly oils
with details, details, details – 
your forte.
You liked it when someone said 
“Oh, it looks so real, like a photograph.” 
But, of course, you worked from magazines 
National Geographic, Life, calendars, too.


Look again,
they are your strokes.
Someone said
“Looks like a watercolor.” 
Look closer,
the opaque white 
with traces of a brush’s bristles 
in oil paint with extra linseed oil
in very thin layers. 
The same way you made your sandwiches
thinly spreading the peanut butter & jelly.
A vestige of growing up during The Depression,
part of being frugal.
No, not frugal,
cheap … or
tightfisted, as they said then.

Look, really, 
they are not your strokes. 
Too broad, too loose, too vague 
too imprecise, too open, too unfinished
too expressive for your temper –  
not your usual rigidity.

Aah, 
the onset of dementia,
after those other strokes 
released & relaxed your brain’s severe part, 
loosening the grip on your hand, 
bringing this Seascape into being. 

And,
at the same time, as dementia
shut down another part of your brain,
all desire to paint vanished,
leaving Seascape with Gulls
 – your first and last unfettered work – 
	
as the very best artistic expression in your life.   

time travelers 

you took our picture from a car window. 

i know 

because i saw the door frame on the edge of the photograph.

neither of us saw you take it, but i know it exists

because someone in the future is admiring 

the yellowing picture paper

that smells of antique stores and soap.

why had we stopped to stand in the middle of the highway?

not sure

who are you? 

i wont bother guessing because you care either way.

you stopped time in march.

the MAR on the side told me so.

what year? anyone's guess.

all i know is that she is looking at me and i am looking at the 

blue or the grey or the beige.

Maniacal Drama

Extremism to its extreme

The iliad twice over

Yet missing more than

A hundred thousand soldiers

There's a killer on the loose

The new pennywise

The curtains haven't closed yet

This story isn’t near its end

Quiet panic

Tension is high

Cross your fingers and

Pray there's no encore

No more-

Chekhov's gun is on the wall

“La forza del destino”

Graffitied on the bathroom stall

The spotlight’s gone dark

The lead is dead

We pity the poor soul

Who found the queen’s head

The show must go on

Sanity is hanging on by just a thread

Everything’s gone wrong

And the stage is half set

We’re only in act three

Nobody knows where the prop manager went

Iago is carrying the head of Marie Antoinette

Exit stage left

Keep your eye on the apron-

The hit list is too long

Suspicion is high

Biases are burning

Don’t blink

It’s all a lie

Romeo is dead now

So is Snow White

Mufasa has fallen

Spock said goodbye

And Rose couldn’t save

Her poor young lover’s life

The audience is cheering

It all looked so authentic

News reports nineteen civilians have gone missing

Through a crack in the wall, 

I see nothing. 

I hear a faint swirl of mutters and creaks and nothing. 

I sense a fear,

From me or the crack in the wall?

From me.


Eye to the hole, 

I stare and stare,

But nothing is nothing is nothing. 

I see nothing,

I hear nothing,

I sense nothing. 


Yet when I am far from the crack in the wall,

I see it,

I hear it,

I sense it. 


The crack in the wall is made up of nothing,

Yet it makes me feel the most of everything. 

I am it. 

Which makes me nothing.

By The Shadows

By the shadows suddenly I stopped and got down from the motorbike
How beautiful the place!
The green paddy field made the view a green carpet
By the way it stands the large tree
The shadows beacon --------
O dear, please be seated
At least halt a little and take the fresh breath in me
On the subconscious mind I heard the sound
The leafy tree spoke out in the silence
I lost myself closing the eyes
I lost myself in the shade and sun from gaps of the leaves
In midst of wind, shade and sun the blood springs as the dancing beats 
And lost in thy love that calms my heart and eyes
No caption - it's always a place you stand by
Let's go - that green horizontal world waiting for us.