Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Amir Murtaza Feb 9
The house at the corner of the street,
with its striking red and green windows,
stands out.

An old neem tree still stands tall.
A few years ago, the place was filled with plants and flowers,
and I even noticed butterflies fluttering around.
But now, all the plant life has dried up—
there’s no water to sustain them.
Indigo silence?
Above the ley we intone:
Special to us, the speed of thus
Hope you same the ides of worldly fun...

Predators of let, lots to a man that can
A whole reason, to verify a loose thought
Resplendency as a candor was, a sense of a plan
Where no man has a dread for you, a place for a spirit mocked

Live up to a wall of service, the voice spoken, the voice proven
Has you by the family of gall, if not the gaiety
We accustom to a liberation of the yet to be loving...
Ask the silence, if we can spare the gait of anxiety?

Hatred, patron, and saccharine
In a rolling cloud of disproof, we saw your knickers
When a bird has come home, for the worst a callous stare means
Create a sunny rational with a blessing that has none for a future...

Winds of solemnity
Winds of paradise, to reach the truth
Winds of persuasion, perceived in a chosen liberty
Winds of virtue, with a stipend for youth

Is it us, or the winds changed direction?
Solace in the name of strength, and the might of a friend
In the way of your chaste, if not hastes inflection
Is this wind a fury in the voice of empathy or an enemies rend?

Notice the guitar...
Asking a power, is mercy in the wishes we gave
Is a clash with youth, a head to turn or an answer
With the sweetest you, we have ever seen a hair give, you a savior

Shame on a placebo, that has intone for the pride of glue?
Here, pissy, and ****
We wave the colors of remembering, your example to fruit
On the table, in the tree, and the eyes we are seeking for a world's vexation...
dancing with a match of late? here is your pipe, your shoes, and the offering of a fox in the chicken coop --- is this me at home, or a season to see you entertain should?
In the garden of love
Red roses do bloom and
Their fragrance dispels
All the gloom and there
Petals are so bright they
Shine in the garden light and
They dance to the breeze
In full plume.
Roses 🌹 🌹🌹🌹🌹
Zywa Feb 4
She is arranging

the flowers, he likes it, then --


she throws them away.
Novel "Het Hemelse Gerecht" - "Voor alle trouweloze mannen" ("The Heavenly Court / Course" - "For all unfaithful men", 1990, Renate Dorrestein), chapter 1

Collection "Old sore"
Zelda Feb 2
Not flowers,
I will buy
myself—
only dark,
bitter chocolate.

February allergies—
how dreadful.
February 1, 2025
In a garden of pure delight
Roses smiling so bright and
With petals that shimmer and glow
They dance in the breeze
A sight sure to please
And there beauty forever
Warming my heart.
Roses 🌹 🥀 🏵 💐
Valentin Eni Jan 28
I

(First Night)

There seem to be voices,
Faceless,
Whispering a prayer
Or perhaps a curse.
And behold—
An axe embedded in the trembling
Surface of water.
And the water rises,
Light as smoke.
And flowers,
One by one, approach a child,
Bending over,
Trying to smell him.
Alas,
They didn’t like him.
Otherwise, one might have
Torn him from the cradle
To pin him to its chest.

And on the wall,
Another clock has died,
Its heart stopped cold.
And a sad little girl
Dresses and undresses
A doll,
As though searching
For invisible wounds—
On its chest, its ankles,
Its palms—
Like a tiny
****** Mary
With
Her child...

II

(Second Night)

An army of black letters
Seems to march across the white battlefield
Of the page,
Conquering new territories,
Leaving behind
Unseen monsters,
Beings
Without skin, without bones,
And without any distinct face,
Feeding on their own flesh
And their own entrails.

Some,
Less hideous,
Had names like:
The Winged Serpent,
The Hen-with-a-Dog’s-Head,
The Man-Melted-into-His-Own-Puddle,
The Headless Child,
And
The Soldier-with-Wolf’s-Eyes.

All of them whisper something—
A prayer
Or a curse:
"Lord, never let us
Know the scent of a child,
The scent of a woman,
The scent of a man,
The scent of danger
And death.
Do not, Lord,
Allow cemeteries of toys
Or landfills
Of homes to grow..."

III

(Third Night)

Two voices are heard whispering:
“Which of us is who?
You—a white demon, or...”
“Or you—a black angel?”

And silence fell.
Somewhere,
A mountain of light grew,
And a Blue Horse
With fiery mane
Galloped in circles
On Saturn’s rings.
The planets, like bouncing *****,
Leapt in its path.
A cloud,
From time to time, walked
Its feet across the earth.
And sometimes,
A ray of light
Pecked from the palm
Of an angel
The ******’s tears.

So far removed
From the first night!
And only sometimes,
Faint voices are heard,
Whispering a prayer
Or a curse.
R.E.M. (Oneiric) The Dream of a Madman.

Analysis of the poem made by ChatGPT:)

This poem visually explores surreal, dreamlike landscapes unfolding over three “nights.” It combines existential dread, metaphysical imagery, and a haunting sense of inevitability. Each night builds on the previous one, shifting between eerie snapshots of fragmented reality and otherworldly visions. The poem juxtaposes the mundane and the fantastical, creating an unsettling, introspective, and thought-provoking narrative.

#Themes:#

Surrealism and the Subconscious

The poem’s structure and content are deeply rooted in the surreal, resembling fragmented visions or distorted memories. The faceless voices, trembling water, monstrous beings, and celestial imagery suggest an entry into the subconscious mind, where logic and reality are suspended.

Innocence and Corruption

The first night’s imagery revolves around a child, a cradle, and flowers—symbols of innocence. However, the flowers’ rejection and the doll’s depiction of invisible wounds suggest the fragility and eventual corruption of purity.

Creation and Destruction

The second night introduces the army of letters as symbols of creation—language, thought, and meaning. However, this creation leaves behind monsters, representing the unintended consequences of human creativity, such as violence, chaos, and existential confusion.

Duality and Ambiguity

The dialogue in the third night (“Are you a white demon, or… a black angel?”) highlights the blurred lines between good and evil, light and darkness. The ambiguity reflects the duality of existence and the human struggle to define morality and identity.

Mortality and the Passage of Time

Clocks appear as time symbols, with one clock “dying” on the first night. This recurring motif underscores the inexorable passage of time and the inevitability of death.

Existence and Prayer

The recurring whispers of prayers and curses suggest an ongoing plea for meaning or redemption intertwined with an acknowledgement of suffering and futility.

#Imagery and Symbolism:#

The Axe and Trembling Water

The axe embedded in the water introduces violent disruption in an otherwise fluid and natural element. This imagery may symbolize an intrusion of chaos into the subconscious or the fragility of stability.

The Clock and the Doll

The “death” of a clock mirrors the halting of time, while the doll becomes a symbol of innocence scrutinized for damage. Together, they evoke a sense of lost time and fractured identity.

The Army of Letters

The letters are creators and destroyers, conquering the blank page while leaving monstrous remnants. They symbolize the duality of words—how language can illuminate or distort truth.

The Blue Horse on Saturn’s Rings

This fantastical image represents freedom, energy, and the untethered imagination. However, its endless circular motion may also imply a cyclical trap, echoing the repetitive whispers and questions in the poem.

The ******’s Tears

A profoundly religious image, the ******’s tears pecked by a ray of light suggest divine sorrow being consumed or repurposed, perhaps hinting at humanity’s exploitation of spirituality.

#Structure and Progression:#

First Night: The Physical and the Innocent

The first night focuses on tangible, earthly imagery: trembling water, flowers, a child, and a clock. These elements introduce themes of fragility, rejection, and the passage of time.

Second Night: The Written and the Monstrous

The second night shifts to abstract and symbolic imagery, dominated by language and its consequences. The “army of letters” introduces intellectual and existential turmoil, with monsters embodying the unintended consequences of thought and creativity.

Third Night: The Celestial and the Transcendent

The third-night moves to cosmic and spiritual imagery, exploring duality and existential questions. The Blue Horse and Saturn’s rings evoke a sense of awe and mystery, while the whispers of prayer or curses maintain the poem’s unsettling tone.

#Tone and Mood:#

Tone: The tone is introspective and surreal, shifting between eerie detachment and profound contemplation.

Mood: The mood is haunting, dreamlike, and unsettling as if one were walking through fragmented memories or a lucid dream.

#Philosophical Underpinnings:#

Existentialism: The poem questions identity ("“which of us is who?”), morality, and the purpose of existence. The faceless voices and duality of angel/demon highlight the ambiguity of human nature.

Absurdism: The surreal imagery and fragmented narrative suggest a world beyond logic, where meaning is elusive, and the search for understanding feels futile yet essential.

#Conclusion:#

“R.E.M. (Oneiric)” explores the subconscious, blending surreal imagery with philosophical questions. Its layered symbolism, cyclical motifs, and the interplay between creation and destruction make it a profoundly evocative work. The poem resonates as a meditation on the fragility of innocence, the consequences of human creativity, and the eternal tension between light and darkness. It leaves the reader in a state of wonder and introspection, mirroring the dreamlike journey of its protagonist.
Alex Jan 27
These pretty flowers
Flowers in my aching lungs
are looking like you
Joyeuse fête de la Saint-Valentin, chers amis
C’est le jour où il faut prendre soin les uns des autres
Et où il faut se donner la main
L’amitié compte, l’amour compte
La famille compte, le savoir vivre compte
Les fleurs comptent aussi, frères et sœurs
Ne soyez pas trop en colère
Parce que le ciel n’est pas bleu
Profitons de la rosée du matin
Ne soyez pas trop tristes
Profitons du temps froid et ensoleillé
Il y a de la neige ici et là, mais au coin de la rue
C’est le printemps avec de l’air frais et un bouquet de fleurs
L’amitié compte, l’amour compte
Il y a des étincelles de feu d’amour dans l’air
Profitons de la saison de l’amour, de la paix et des soins
C’est le moment de marcher joyeusement main dans la main
Ensemble nous nous promènerons, ensemble nous nous lèverons.

P.S. Traduction de «  Joyous St. Valentine’s Day » par Hébert Logerie.
Ce poème est dédié à tous les amoureux du monde.
Copyright © Janvier 2025, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l’auteur de plusieurs recueils de poèmes.
Feliz festa de São Valentim, queridos amigos
É dia de cuidar uns dos outros
E onde devemos dar as mãos
A amizade importa, o amor importa
A familia importa, as boas maneiras são importantes
E as flores também importam, irmãos e irmãs
Não fique muito zangado
Porque o céu não é azul
Vamos aproveitar o orvalho da manhã
Não fique tão triste
Vamos aproveitar o tempo frio e soalheiro
Há neve aqui e ali, mas mesmo ali ao virar da esquina
É primavera com ar fresco e um ramo de flores
A amizade importa, o amor importa
Há faíscas de fogo de amor no ar
Vamos aproveitar a época de amor, paz e cuidado
É tempo de caminhar felizes de mãos dadas
Juntos caminharemos, juntos nos ergueremos.

P.S. Tradução de “Joyous St. Valentine’s Day” de Hébert Logerie.
P.S. Este poema é dedicado a todos os amantes do mundo.
Copyright © Janeiro 2025, Hébert Logerie, Todos os direitos reservados.
Hébert Logerie é autor de várias coletâneas de poemas.
Next page