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 Mar 2018
irinia
Dear E. S.
poetry
is the world the human race
my own life
all flowered from the word
the transparent wonder
of a delirious ferment

When I find
one single word
in this my silence
it is hewn into my life
like an abyss

Giuseppe Ungaretti
 Mar 2018
irinia
your words like high speed winds
making noise on my skin
I put on a psychedelic lipstick
I take off the blue dress
(made in India)
- he tries new scores with
oxidized fingers
galvanizes the silence, the thirst, the dreams of the air-
I want to confess iloveyous louder
than the coffee machines. Louder
than the morning radio. Louder
than tram number 5.
life is what happens while
you stay, leave, come back and
redefine our melting point

I open the door,
you are there
with your carnival smile
and nothing prepares me
for this obscure truth:
imponderable I feel
when you say
my name my name my name
 Mar 2018
Sally A Bayan
.....a day's, or a night's inspiration
just walks away
and escapes my mental grasp
an idea, pregnant with possibilities,
suddenly becomes infertile, like
a barren woman, or a wasteland
i try to get hold of it,
still...it glides away, falling along the
edges of my imagination.
i am bereft,
when my muse has left.
::::::::::::::

sometimes,
i eagerly dip, and wiggle my toes
on a sunny blue river that
manifests itself in my mind,
bursting with promises of new insights...
yet, a slightly curving path is hard to ignore
for, it easily presents itself......and
sometimes,
i give in to its swirls of unfulfilled
dreams, and....sublime moments,
hovering, like a hummingbird
quivering...in my own space,
there in neverlandia, where i'm left
pondering, about a life......unlived.
:::::::::::::::
my toe-dipping moments,
my rare moments of serenity,
are short-lived........ruffled,
besieged by old shadows,
because....phantoms of fear
refuse to die.
::::::::::::::::::::::

sometimes,
when treading this curved path,
unwanted, unexpected
circumstances occur,
and, all of a sudden,
my muse emerges from hiding.
inspirations bloom,
like mushrooms,
bolder,
than those that elude(d) me.
:::::::::::::::::::::::

sometimes,
it takes a while,
for love and life
to rhyme.
::::::::::::::::::::::


Sally

Copyright February 10, 2018
rrab



::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
 Mar 2018
Grey mirror
I am romantically fatal.
I give it all till I bleed to dead,
I'm left with nothing
But regrets.
How romantic are you?
 Mar 2018
Seazy Inkwell
Blown away sorrows,
Seep through pillows,
Was I mad was I sad
When I came with no “hi”s
And left with no “goodbye”s

The place is close by,
But I walk back I drive past
I duck away to avoid pests of regrets

Never able to cut open
The memories endeared
In its own empty crust.

So I look toward future with lust
Afraid of the going back
Afraid of the circling into myself
Fastened into idealized past.

Nobody ever come back this way,
Nothing ever stay the same,
None ever let their sentiments sway,
Not my fights not my thoughts not my defeats
not even me.
i don't know. i always pass by this place where i used to know. i keep thinking of the people there. but for sure they will no longer know me. i was the quiet one.  
but how they embroidered the scenes of my memories....
 Feb 2018
Kelly Rose
I live for stolen moments
Catching glimpses of a life lived
Within the pages of…
A story, a fairytale, a myth?

Sadly, it’s easier to live
For those stolen moments
Than earned moments I create for myself

Kelly Rose
© February 28, 2018
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