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Prabhu Iyer Jan 2015
Joy to our lives such                           Hope, supernal that
who grace this world of darkness    rejects hatred, they call forth
once in an aeon.                                  the soul and tend love;

Gripped in sadness we                      Purgatory cells
who have lost a lighted lamp     -     imprisoning the human
this mourning season;                       spirit for small gain;
A poetical interpretation of Fauvism:  I've used the Haiku-Senryu 5-7-5 syllabic count as the 'base' abstraction, & present 4 reflective emotions: Joy, Sorrow, Hope and brooding pain, meditating on Nelson Mandela's inspirational life, an year on since his death...
Prabhu Iyer Jan 2015
Supernal abodes ours where we be as
soul-sheaths more transparent than we aspire

in abodes we of
self-modification more transparent than we petaled hope


of here, realms where bloom delights, beacons of
petaled hope, amid the rhythms of ice-pins

amid Supernal beacons of delights
space, sensation soul-sheaths expansion of ice-pins


in expansion space, sensation light and
self-modification all perception

*be as bloom ours where all perception here, realms where
aspire light and the rhythms
Noting a vision in word, juxtaposing couplets in Iambic pentameter, with those created using my interpretation of Surrealist Cut-up.

Surrealists have been concerned with the sub-conscious..time to unleash also supra- or super-conscious...last has not been said yet...!
  Jan 2015 Prabhu Iyer
Sara L Russell
----

Sunset sky
Late leaves fall
as litter flies

----

All night
awake
feels strange
I crack

Late flight
I break
I'll change
come back

----

I don't know why she never really knew me
I wish I knew why she was so unkind
And why she cut my clothes to shreds so rudely
And ripped the peace cleanly out of my mind

----

i hate myself
i hate my life
my fingers close around the knife
my cuts are mouths screaming in vain
as blood mixes with streaming rain

----

Hey lonely -
your poem ******.
Read more, get out more,
eat meat or forever hold your peas.

----

Nightfall comes
wood smoke curls
as lights go out.

----

N E 1 want 2 chat?
No?
'bye.
Notes: I wrote this in several different styles to represent several different poets in a poetry forum. Some are dreamers, one is suicidal, one is a flippant self-styled critic. The haiku poet opens and closes the night's poetry discussions, but a latecomer has the last word. Inspired by the newsgroup alt.arts.poetry.comments
  Jan 2015 Prabhu Iyer
Sara L Russell
Sara L Russell, 19/12/14 00:58am*


White gulls fly against darkness of winter trees
swirling in a reeling easterly;
bare branches stand in earthbound traceries
behind the birds that dance weightless and free.


There is a rhythm in this circling flight.
a lazy, slightly tipsy minuet;
a majesty in gliding wings of white,
a sign that better times are coming yet.


The dew has barely faded on the green,
two fountains bend before the icy breeze,
as seagulls, with a grace I've rarely seen
swirl heavenward, like flights of fantasies.
is your faith so fragile
you **** to protect it?
no notes necessary
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