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 Sep 2014 Liam
irinia
she opens herself to the horizon
holding desire heavily in her breath
so crushing and withheld
the quiet rush of blood
bleaching his embrace
words withdraw in their matrix
only the form of his lips in her smile
and his walk in her feet
and making love so light
when the truth is androgyne
 Sep 2014 Liam
irinia
my town
where wild flowers grow
between tram tracks.
there was a time when
it was hardly morning,
no bridge into daylight.

walls had ears,
neighbors had eyes
whispering behind the curtains
there was an emptiness in the guts
of the city
and poetry locked in the drawers,
Borges was read under the blankets
while Dostoievski was  a comforter:
demons were embedded.

yeah, people were clapping and smiling
watching the nub of history, numb
they had a life to live,
what can you say?

one day the radio
burst on in the streets
some were shivering in the attic
"we are free", they said
"we are free",
came the echo in trance

"shhhhh"! said others,
let us wipe the blood
don't disturb the sacrificed
so we can sleep
without dreams

it's Thursday in my town
streets are weary
and our souls are
slowly expanding
Thank you, Eliot, for this choice! I am glad that this poem was chosen for the Daily Poem because for me it is a reminder that people died for freedom and struggled against oppression in times when "Cruelty knits a snare,/And spreads his baits with care", as the poet says. (William Blake, The Human Abstract)
 Sep 2014 Liam
irinia
In the depths of the bloodied waters
stones were dissolving -
via an echo the wind was telling me,
the rain brought back to my hearing
rhythms of an ancestor song
with one ear stalking the other
I was beginning already to be divided

monologizing - dialogizing
let us go to sleep maybe the reality
we lost will come to us in a dream

the coldness which came from a misunderstanding
had a touch of nobility
then out of pride came scorn
then hate, then we came
to inhabit the same body
like two convicts in one cell
who are fighting underhand
but suddenly stop when they hear
the warden's step

I am myself scarred on the inside
and have no right to pronounce harmony
between you
but take out the ashes while there is time
give the spirit shape

Ioanid Romanescu, from *Time's Expansion
 Sep 2014 Liam
N N Johnson
These are all just bad beginnings
in my search for a show-stopper,
a jaw-dropper,
trying to be just the right balance
of sarcastic and lovely,
the right balance of writer
that I idealize and am not,
of course,
what am I, a narcissist?

I'm trying to put into words
the feelings I told you I danced
because they are wordless (spaceful)
and because of you
I have to say them with voice;
what a dilemma is this--

That when I tell you with movement
what I can't say
you put me in the place
of having to voice it and now
I have no words
other than bad beginnings.

So is that it?
When I word to you
instead of dance for you (for me?)
what you have to return is a nothing,
a less-than-nothing saying,
saying nothing, leaving me

hurt and confused because
maybe there was a something
in all your nothing that I can't find--
because we are dealing in words now,
and I'm a movement reader.

And I know I will forgive you for this
but I won't forgive me for knowing that.

Even while I'm still so angry, it just reveals
my pathetic (patient?) desperation for your love,

But I didn't say this right.
I need to move (dance) this.
Wonderful word wanderings
 Sep 2014 Liam
Poetic T
Paper Boy
 Sep 2014 Liam
Poetic T
I was paper, a cut out wanting to be more
I cried tears of ink,
I used my finger to dry
They became
Wet,
Moist,
Sodden,
Weaker than they was before.
I could fly,
If the wind caught my frame just right
I could float for eternity
But as the window is shut tight,
So do I float down.
My features are my own
Each day I take
Pencil,
Rubber,
Imagination,
Of who I will be that day,
I was once one of the same paper
Many of us holding hands,
Unity,
Together,
Friendship,
But it doesn't always last,
Some separated themselves,
While others where torn
To old, too carry on,
Just Shredded paper
Eternally flying in the wind,
I am the last of a long line
We were brothers of the same paper
But now they are all gone,
Today I draw a sad face,
Will I let it all go,
Or carry on,
But I am the paper boy
Thinner than the cardboard ones
But I drew a heart,
In permanent marker,
It vibrates the paper
Ripple's,
Beats,
Life,
Is what I am,
I want to be more than this
But for now I am just the paper boy,
Crying tears of ink upon the floor.
 Sep 2014 Liam
WendyStarry Eyes
Nothing's right
Nothing's wrong
Sitting back watching the play
Sitting back in the lyrics of the song
Listening to the voices long since past
Wondering, Waiting
How long will it last
The final scene,
The last stanza,
The tragic end,
What will it all mean
The learning,
The giving,
The pretending,
Unspoken understanding
It's all part of living
~~~~~And the wheels keep spinning~~~~~
 Sep 2014 Liam
Antonio
Summer's warm currents retreat
the advancing brisk amber sunsets.

Submerging the world under
the reign of enduring starry nights.

The maples blush as Autumn whispers
the gentle lullaby of Winter's sweet breath.

Erasing Summer's memory with a crimson brush
preparing the golden landscape's long frigid rest.

~~~
I wish I was bullet-proof

Walls all up
Open your eyes
See
the
grey

There's nowhere to go
Not anymore
There's no one calling for you
Not even a whisper*

Does that not feel
Like freedom?
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