We Need Not Speak
As you hold me close in your warm embrace
I feel like we will melt into one as our hearts beat together.
We need not speak..
Our unsteady breaths speak for us
They are as pleasing as any love poem ever passionately uttered
My love for you will show in my eyes and in my touch
I slowly drench your heart's barren ground
Whenever you reach for me, I will be right there..
I will always come to you, and there will never be
any doubt that you are alive inside... ❤
Love is our Song
Love as we know it, is like a prayer,
and music is what fills our souls with life
It flows from my breath like a gentle breeze,
and I see you come alive with each new song
When our souls met, you gave up your heart
You sacrificed your life for both of us as a whole
You name became mine and mine became yours
Burning in our love was our destination foretold
and the many memories are as many as the stars
We have spent many nights just remembering them all
And our love will be forever eternal..
I see it in your eyes. ❤
A Flame Between Us
Like a match, you started a flame between us
I've always understood my place in your life
And remembered when and how it all started
Look no further than right in front of you
because that is where you will find my smile
It's never changed, and has always been for you
My light glows around you like a flame of life
If you hear my voice, follow the sound
I will light the way to where you will find me
and the dark will no longer surround you
For this flame will light our path together.
Kristy Raines was born in Oakland California in The United States of America and is a poet, writer, author and humanitarian/advocate.
She has five books getting ready to publish soon, one with a prominent Poet from India which will launch hopefully soon called, "I Cross my Heart from East to West", two fantasy books of her own called, "Rings, Thins and Butterfly Wings" and "Princess and The Lion", and an anthology of poems in English, "The Passion Within Her" and her Autobiography called "My Very Anomalous Life"
Kristy has received many literary awards for her unique style of writing.
The Unlucky Sun
Forest bandits weave dreams in the eyes of the river
The noise of civilization robs the fish of sleep The hearts of the far-near roads are wounded
The tree stump is now an ammo
Shadow walks on a bullet-ridden leg
A changing climate attacks the world of clouds
The fetus of poison vapor is in the womb of the sky
Discrepancy of seasonal cycles is on the horizon
The language of blood in the chest of green grass
The Mathematics of Dissatisfaction is on Butterfly Wings
Democracies of defeat in seven days of the rainbow
Inventions in fresh account books kill themselves
Nerve cells in the brain melt in the reproductive system
Vascular blood vessels in clotted lesions
The calendar is defective in the clutter of days
Intellectuals are bought and sold
Sometimes the sun itself seems unlucky .
In the realm where dreams reside....
In the realm where dreams reside,
Lies a tale that must be untied.
A story of forgotten lands,
Of whispered secrets in shifting sands.
Behold! A world so full of wonder,
Where stars ignite and heavens thunder.
Where moonbeams dance upon the streams,
And sunsets paint ethereal gleams.
In this realm, love blossoms true,
Where hearts entwine like morning dew.
A symphony of laughter fills the air,
As souls connect beyond compare.
But amidst this beauty, darkness creeps,
It slumbers there, silently it seeps.
A shadow cast upon the light,
Threatening to devour all in sight.
Yet hope ignites within each soul,
Burning bright, making them whole.
They rise against the tempest's might,
With courage fierce, they take to flight.
For in this realm, strength is found,
In unity, their spirits bound.
Together they face the looming storm,
Defying fate's relentless norm.
Through valleys deep and mountains tall,
They march with purpose, standing tall.
Their voices rise in unison,
A symphony of resilience begun.
And as they fight against the night,
Their spirits glow with radiant light.
For even when darkness seems so vast,
Hope endures and shadows won't last.
So let us join this sacred place,
Embrace its beauty and embrace its grace.
For within its depths lies life's sweet song,
An eternal melody that keeps us strong.
Poetess: Makhfiratkhon Abdurakhmonova from Uzbekistan.
The ship of the moon raised its sails
It went towards the constellation star
At that moment, a poet shrugs his shoulders
He began to write a series of poems
Spruce branches bent
It showed respect to everyone
The poet poured himself into the poem
The winds danced
The elegant lawns were swaying
They were having fun whispering
They would say to each other:
"I wish the poet would say his poem"
But the poet was still silent
He closes his eyes and shakes his head
To the black cloud that roamed the sky
He sometimes frowns
Like it inspired him
A brook flowed beside him
The poet's thoughts roamed the world
In the bosom of the blue sea
The poet plucked words from his heart
The world could not bear it
The morning began to shine suddenly
The sun came out of the poem
Author: Umid Qodir. Young Uzbek poet.
Translator: Nigora Muhammad
Weightlifter’s Dilemma, or Upon Looking at a Surrealist painting by Andrew Ferez
(Photo above is of a clown’s face with purple curly hair and white face paint and a big nose suspended above a desk with a microphone)
What the body lifts and carries Around like a second skin It sooner memorizes the weight As it grows inured to the pain
Clowns must be the unborn Children of Sisyphus, smile Despite and in spite of –if they only Knew art is more than a discipline
Takes a while for the heart to catch up When it does, it surrenders the key To a floodgate that opens at three Next thing you know, each morning
The heart wakes up in a circus tent Of acrobats juggling heavy objects Handles them like they’re made of air Who cares about weightlifting clowns? ——- Biographical note:
Emeniano Acain Somoza, Jr. considers himself the official spiritual advisor of his roommates, Gordot and Dwight – the first a goldfish, the other a Turkish Van cat. His works have been published in The Poetry Magazine, Moria Poetry Journal, Fogged Clarity, Everyday Poem, Loch Raven Review, The Buddhist Poetry Review, The Philippines Free Press, Troubadour 21, Full of Crow, Indigo Rising, Asia Writes, Triggerfish Critical Review, Troubadors 21, Gloom Cupboard, TAYO, Haggard & Halloo, and elsewhere. His first book, A Fistful of Moonbeams, was published by Kilmog Press in April 2010. His second, Kleenex Theory, published by Createspace-Amazon, came out in 2015. He is busy anthologizing emptiness and boredom at the moment.
Banshee Call
From those decrepit ruin walls
Hollow cries creep over the moor.
Something wicked, eerily calls
Whining deathly tears of dire lore.
Night breeze, like morbid ice
Hauntingly drifts among the trees.
From yon desolate edifice
Come cries that make blood freeze.
But a grave now; those castle walls,
Naught as her haunting grounds.
And when you hear the Banshee calls;
Know is how your death sounds.
For few live to tell their tales
Of their acquaintance with cries at night.
For when the Banshee wails
Nigh never do they greet dawn's light.
Then when one hears the Banshee's call
A wretched soul is destined to fall.
Inner Torment
Lost in misery my soul burns.
It sleeps but sorrow always returns.
If of a memory's cost
Or in Limbo where hope is lost.
This hell will not yield.
There is no mercy upon this battlefield.
Only footprints left by death.
Only tears that strangle one's breath.
Dark requiem in fading light
Sorrow awakens with the night.
Abominations from my inner torment
Rising in a horrid ascent.
From South-Western Michigan, Jerry Langdon has lived in Germany since the early 90's. He is an artist and poet. His works bathe in a darker side of emotion and fantasy. He has released five books of Poetry titled "Temperate Darkness an Behind the Twilight Veil", “Death and other cold things” “Rollercoaster Heart” and “Frosted Dreams” Jerry is also the editor and publisher of the literary magazine Raven Cage Zine poetry and prose. His poetic inspirations are derived from poets such as Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Frost and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. As well as from various rock bands. His apparently twisted mind, twists and intertwines fantasy with reality.
Neven Dužević
Southwest of the center
Southwest of the center is my neighborhood
I went to school there and had a start
There was also a cinema there
After the second shift
I had time there
He imagined her and me in the last row
All the movie scenes themselves
But those are old days
More or less, only on the same route
Only the Tram knocks
He only hides his name
What was and is no longer
They still walk there
My dream mates
Boys lost in the years
They are looking for Peter Pan
They talk about drinking
Ribicija and black maca
Southwest from the city center
It's Trešnjevka...
