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".............",
his eyes said
without
saying

"and I, you",
I sighed
with
saying
introverts_extroverts_poerty verses
Zywa Jan 21
I can already

scold in this language, now I'm --


learning the sweet words.
Novella "De heilige Antonio" ("The Saint of the Impossible" / "Saint Antonio", 1998, Arnon Grunberg), chapter 1

Collection "The sweet curve"
I have never seen an ugly flower
Flowers are always full of grandeur
Flowers are known to be beautiful
All the time, that's stupendously wonderful
All flowers speak a beautiful language
That we all fully comprehend. In this day and age
Everybody is yearning to hear the voice of love
The voice of a symphony coming from above
Yes, everybody loves the language of the flowers
It is a language, a sound of joy between lovers
And friends. Love is at the center of everything
Please keep on dreaming, please keep on speaking
The language of the flowers, the language of all colors
The dialect of the epicureans, the language of all lovers
I only see beautiful flowers in spring, fall, summer and winter
One flower has the power to improve the mood of a lover
Bring a flower to a lover, I guarantee you that you'll be happy
Keep on speaking the language of the flowers to spread unity
Love, respect, peace and the incredible fondness that we all need
Flowers do not discriminate or use foul words. Lead and feed
Inspire and incense the world with the perfume of the flowers
With the aroma of a stylish language and exquisite manners.

Copyright © August 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Zywa Jan 11
Patro, patrino.

Mother: the little father --


in Esperanto.
Novel "a word child" (1975, Iris Murdoch), chapter Thursday [2]

Collection "Unspoken"
irinia Jan 10
there in the land of the wind
the grass would like to be as tall as you
the salt of the earth would be ringing,
resonant with the laughter of tears
perhaps everything we are
has to conceive a symbolic death
to deliver ourselves

in the embryo of words there is
such a gentleness, a true prophecy:
language would begin to forget itself
we meet in this language without words
like two beings from the end of the world
TonyNoon Jan 10
I heard three but there were more
languages in play, some silently running
through their viewpoints of a day so far.

Where we came from was uncertain.
Clouds of intent ,we had drifted from
indifferent mornings to find ourselves

funnelled for a few minutes into this
shared space. Going forward, diversity
meant nothing.For different reasons

we all needed the same destination.


Tony Noon
Immortality Jan 9
The trees breathe
in a language
older than time.
I’ve got this massive curry leaves tree in my garden. It’s my unofficial therapist..... hehe
Yep, I share my problems with it—big, small, and downright embarrassing...
But I make sure no one’s watching. I don’t want the neighbors thinking I’ve gone nuts!!
heheheh~~
Zywa Dec 2024
It is simple: right

is the side of the hand with --


the thumb on the left.
Novella "Want dit is mijn lichaam" ("This is my Body", 1997, Renate Dorrestein), the translation of the Words of Institution: "Hoc est enim Corpus Meum", chapter December

Collection "Old sore"
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