THE WAILING OF A BROKEN SOUL 

I walked alone, from the day 

I set my feet on the path of truth 

Betrayals and temptations accompanied me

The pain of life made me weary and thirsty 

Weary from it’s trials and tribulations 

Yet still, i walked 

It felt like i was walking on a hot sand

A sand burning with coal and brimstone 

Like I was tied upside down to a pole

And plunged down into a volcano 

To be eaten up by the burning larvae 

Yet still, i walked 

I walked along the halls of agony

Echoes of misfortune honked 

Like a horn from a train 

Evil besieged me

Like a young married woman 

Who turned widow at dawn 

Yet still, i walked 

O Poetry 

*********

O Poetry, hold me in your arms this moment, 

Quench my soul with eternal peace,

There where silence sang the song of bliss, 

Over the turmoil and suppressed agony,

 There, where you wore the stole of Buddha, 

And the butterflies flutter in glee, 

My newly awakened eyes blossomed with the beauty of spring,

once again 

Let it sing the song of eternity.

Time in the heat

This bird is hidden in a box,

And inside, between the ribs, death lies in a cage.

I never knew how to fly,

Like a black kitten drowned in a pool of tiger blood.

Time flows from the wall.

This puddle of timelessness evaporates like the music of freedom.

Serenity

When did you first see porn?

When did you first hear a nightingale sing?

It was summer, and snow fell in my lungs. Like fluff.

It didn’t hurt, because everything was new.

I died inside my head. Your name lives there.

You’ve forgotten me, and you have the right to oblivion.

You never knew my name.

This eternal winter in my cemetery.

Mama

 Mother is the doctor for any sickness 

Mama is the country that everyone loves

without conquering

 Mama is joy and sorrow Mama the power

Mama the forgiveness 

One word was created by God To forgive people

 Say it every day

 Call her if they put chains on you

To sweeten it the wound

To bring peace

My mom, you’re unique

 You never told them you were upset…

With gold I will cherish you 

Chosen person 

 I crown you, My mother

 My sun

My compass

Ελληνικα 

……

Μαμά

 Η μητέρα είναι ο γιατρός για κάθε ασθένεια, Η μαμά είναι η χώρα που όλοι αγαπούν, χωρίς να προσπαθούν, να την κατακτήσουν.

Η μαμά είναι χαρά και λύπη

 Μαμά η δύναμη,

Μαμά η συγχώρεση

Μια λέξη που δημιουργήθηκε από τον Θεό για Να συγχωρήσει τους ανθρώπους.

Πείτε αυτή τη λέξη κάθε μέρα..

Φώναξέ την, αν σε δέσουν με  αλυσίδες.

Θα έρθει για να σου γλυκάνει την πληγή

Να φέρεις την ειρήνη Μαμά μου, εσύ είσαι μοναδική..

Δεν τους είπες ποτέ ότι στενοχωρήθηκες … Με χρυσό θα σε λατρέψω

Σε στεφανώνω, μητέρα μου

Ήλιε μου, 

πυξίδα μου.. 

©  Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού

A Goddess Intervenes 

In Honor of My Mother, International Women’s Day and the #MeToo Movement 

by Jacques Fleury

[From Fleury’s Boston Globe featured book Sparks in the Dark: A Lighter Shade of Blue, A Poetic Memoir]

Through my senses, 
I see sadly her unaffected gazes 
Her intrigue’s absences 
Her relationship to relationships 
Slowly and softly bending 
Like two birds sharing a stem 
The thin branch softly bending 
Sighs with her burden; 
Trapped in discontentment 
Like Winter’s malevolence, 
But she found in her a weather of resilience, 
The sounds of her heels on the stoical pavement echoes like 

her laughter in the desert paths of remembrance 
She throws her head back and laughs 
As young men beg for a chance to kill her lack of chance 
Her essence glowing like the moon in starless skies 
She like a picturesque whirl like a slow-moving storm, 
Slowly rushes into a room 
Smiles in recognition of her adulation 
Then sways her hips ever so lovingly 
Among the artful debris 
And cocks her head as if to hear the dead 
Extending her left ear to face the light 
Oblivious to the presence of a challenge 
Waiting to hear words to confirm her rights 
And a tear from the moon falls into her eyes 
Then in her benediction glows 
Then in her benediction grows 
So she opens her mouth and blows a hue of winter, 
But sometimes she opens her mouth and blows a hue of summer, 
Depending on the noisiest weather! 
One day she opened her eyes in horror 
To see the moon a reddish color! 
To see her world of beauty in fury 
crumbling around her like a fallen deity 
So then she crumbles too; 
Having been made of snow, 
The wrath of the wind broke through her window, 
then there she lies like the ashes of winter, 
succumbed to the intemperate weather, 
Then I watch her die, beautifully die. 

Jacques Fleury is a Boston Globe featured Haitian American Poet, Educator, Author of four books and literary arts student at Harvard University online. His latest publication “You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self” & other titles are available at all Boston Public Libraries, the University of Massachusetts Healey Library, University of Wyoming, Askews and Holts Library Services in the United Kingdom, The Harvard Book Store, The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, Amazon etc… He has been published in prestigious publications such as Spirit of Change Magazine, Wilderness House Literary Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, Litterateur Redefining World anthologies out of India, Poets Reading the News, the Cornell University Press anthology Class Lives: Stories from Our Economic Divide, Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene among others…Visit him at:  http://www.authorsden.com/jacquesfleury.–

The Wind Song 

Wind sings a song to me.

Sweet music to my soul.

Take me to the spirit world of Mother Earth.

To lie down on the sandy beach .

With waves flowing over my body and face.

I want to stay  under the water.

Touch the rhythms of the starfish and dolphins .

The essence of another world.

I cry out to the water world.

Take me, sing to me.

Hold me close and dance with me.

The music of the land sings loud .

I’m being split apart .

A force grows into me like a Titan .

Crashes take place within me,

At last I’m back lying on the sand.

The sweet music grows within me.

A divine calm takes hold .

Yellow Flowing Fields 

I miss the yellow fields flowing with the wind. 

My beautiful wild flowers are swaying in the wind.

Dancing for me.

I look up at the sky.

With white clouds flowing so peacefully .

  Just me nature and the blowing of the wind.

Heaven Rainbow

Heaven open your colors to me.

With blue sky painted with touches of yellow, red, gold and black of night.

Gold is for Kings and Queens of noble birth.

Red is for the torch that brightens the sky.

Black is for the mystery of another world hidden in the stars that guides ships

of long ago.

See for yourself how the blue sky sends flying wings to the kingdom in the sky.

I wish I could see the shooting star that burst into flames that color the sky.

Elaine Murray

2002

MISSINGS

I miss your wet clay pot.

Do you miss my water?

IN PARALLEL

flowers (lovers) in fields

(with zeal) shed blooms’

blood (shuck loomed goods)

without blame (with no shame)

as winter comes (and future

Comes)

REALTOR

“I gave Milton Paradise

and gave Whitman Manhattan.

I gave Coleridge Xanadu

and gave Plato Atlantis. 

I gifted Adam Eden

and I gave Dante Hell.”

Then, please, Muse, grant me Heaven.