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Nikos Kyriazis Oct 2018
A blue cat is quivering
inside a recumbent statue's eye
Its wintry eyeball
a bleak shelter to her
She ponders to be grabbed
by a cypresse that soars around
But she dares not
to attempt the leap
You see...
the statue is fastened
to a bony finger
And the height at the firnament
is tremendous
So she remains dormant,
snared to the will of time

Some pewter birds flying above
Celebrating their capability to fly
Shofi Ahmed Jun 2017
Picture yours, put it out
to your kaleidoscope.
Like the day at the full-blown noon
or the night on the cheek of the moon
a flame burning on the underlying dark
a dawn switches on the first light
a sun comes out of the night.
Visualise your latent one
put it on before your mirror!

Princely give the eyeballs a designer treat.
Paint your masterpiece at the day’s peep.
Hook the browsers at their first click.
rose Apr 2017
dried up skulls
with motionless eyes
pulled out of their sockets
lie about on forgotten land
as more are placed in
the jars, already filled with other
dusty, dirt covered eyeballs.
the strangely clean glass containers
in which the eyes are placed
stand on wood shelves,
calling,
              b e g g i n g,
to be set free
from the trap of the elderly,
blind man's clutches.

— The End —