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 Oct 2015 Ata
beth fwoah dream
the trees like
iron masts
ships of steel,
the leaves,
whirring and circling,
scattering the shadows of
the dark lanes
with their golden inks.
 Oct 2015 Ata
glassea
8
 Oct 2015 Ata
glassea
8
it tastes like quiet, here
the trees watch and do not
movespeakbreathe -
they do not tell the curious sky
what is changing below

it tastes like quiet, here
eighteen species of birds
gone deaf from this silence,
and thirty more
who have forgotten their song

it tastes like quiet, here
shining goldgreengray with
the darkest of clouds

it tastes like quiet, here
and it is so easy
to forget yourself:
impose the heart on forests
and leave it behind

and it tastes like quiet, you think
but you do not remember
knowing anything else
 Oct 2015 Ata
r
Where it all starts
 Oct 2015 Ata
r
Listen, it's a beautiful thing
when distilled to its essence;
reduced to its purest form.
A paradox and a paradigm;
a paragon of perfection.
Epic in its arythmetic
progression; poetic.
Like Chinese arithmetic,
so hard it hurts. Yet soft
and exquisite, like a bubble
of love caught in a beating heart.
That place where poetry starts.
 Oct 2015 Ata
Mohd Arshad
Under the amber canopy
The golden globe burns;
The grasshopper lands
And the owl takes off!
Notes (optional)
 Oct 2015 Ata
beth fwoah dream
the moon glows brightly
her corners smudged
at the edges,

night drinks from a holy well,
a cavernous black sinks
into the dark lakes of the skies,

sinks further and further
autumn is awakening
loosening her hair
that falls in a golden net,

the first leaves crackle
in smokey knots,

sink beneath
the honeys of an
autumn sky,

lost in the woods
that start to trickle in a
stream of fiery gold
from branch to floor,
where the stars
still sing of the last spells
of summer.
 Oct 2015 Ata
beth fwoah dream
the river longs for the sea,
stars like blue arcs,
ghostly voices
hum on the breeze,
the flowers of
the night
blossom in the starlight,
the air seems to soften
and clouds drift and drift,
puddles of grey inks with
even greyer moods.
 Oct 2015 Ata
beth fwoah dream
the sea and its ghosts,
water falling,
clouds like peaceful
monasteries,
somewhere beyond.
Live endless love,
be loved endlessly.
Live exclusion,
be excluded.
Note to Kim Davis
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