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alasia Jun 27
He pulled me to the precipice of poetry, riddled my ribs with rhymes, my stomach sunk with sonnets, chest collected couplets, back bowed with ballads, each exhale was an epistle melting metaphors against his mouth.

If he would have let me I’d lift lyrics to his lips, deafened those doggerel days armed with arrows of aphorisms; I’d quell those cursory quatrains and offer an oasis of odes and hymns he had left hostage to my heart.

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
    Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
    And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone
    Half hidden from the eye!
Fair as a star, when only one
    Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know
    When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and oh,
    The difference to me!


እድገቷ እምብዛም ባልተዘወተረው
የሽማ ማጠቢ አቅራቢያ ነው
እንደአንድ ኮረዳ፣ለአድናቆት ሆና
ፍፁም እንግዳ፣
ለፍቅር ተወስና በጣም በጥቂቶች
የልብ ጓዳ፣
ነው የኖረች
ያቺ ሃምራዊ ፅጌረዳ
ዋቅላሚ በወረሰው ኮረብታ
በከፊል ተጋርዳ፡፡

እንደብቸኛ ኮከብ
ጽልመት በለበሰው ሰማይ
ደምቃ አንደምትታይ
ከማንም እይታ ርቃ
ነው የኖረች
እንዲሁም የሚያውቅ  የለም
ድንቅነሽ መች እንደሞተች
ግና መቃብሯ ውስጥ ነች
ወይኔ፣ ልዩነቱ ለኔ!

(ዊሊያም ወርድሰ ወርዝ/ትርጉም ዓለም ኃይሉ)
As there is not a violet flower in my country I have to use a violet rose
Jack P Apr 2018
\put your feet on the land/

His name, according to the scrawl on the cover of his journal, was Viele. His build, according to everyone he'd ever met, was a lazy mosaic of withered limbs; veins snaking like cracks in pavement.

His intentions, according to hindsight, were regrettable.

\and see/

It is the gospel truth that man is the expert of denial.
As sure as the dead stay dead,
The Graverobber will prefer the term 'opportunist'.
Viele was a "professional",
took pride in his "art".
He dug, dug, dug,
'til the wood did part.

Stripped the cemetery to its bones (or, if you please, of its bones).

\ain't no grave/

Then Viele snags his shovel, about three feet deep.
Somehow the handle asphyxiated by the stalk
Of a Morning Glory, which flowers a defiant blue -
swallowing whole, the rusting *****, as its spiral buds take
their first breaths - against, of course, the tarred lung
of their rawboned abuser.

And lo!
(the image befits the phrase, as does the Earth "empty of form")*
the deadyard stood guard,
like it was suddenly attacked
by an impressionist's paintbrush.

The deadyard, and Viele
Van Goghing, Goghing, Gone.

\gonna hold my body down/

In Lieu, In Bloom:
Baby's Breath and Bells of Ireland and Daisies and Hydrangeas and Lace of Queen Anne and Sunflowers and
God, ad nauseum they arose,
arching upwards from graves.
Leaving no gravestone unturned,
in the pursuit of the place
where footnotes become headlines
and headlines turn to deadlines
and deadlines turn to soil.

For in the morning,
when Viele returns
and Glory, ironically, stands down
we will know to wait.
Tucked away behind our rejected Heaven's gate,
for the show to return.

Where there's Life in the urn.
leave the poetry to the prose (of which i am neither)
Ignatius Hosiana Aug 2016
People are not always what you see...
humanity is beyond visual, yet above the mental...
Humanity is a universe, with sands on beaches,
stars in the skies, truth and lies, different planets and galaxies...
Humanity is moons and moons and moons...
but most of all, humanity is you... So to judge me better,
look within you and judge yourself rather than what you see or hear... you are human, so  am I...
I am you, you are me... we are the universe...
Ignatius Hosiana Jul 2016
When I meet the Sunset, I'll tell her
about how beautiful you pair looked
I'll apologise for all the time your
glowing eyes paled the full moon
I feel remorseful for ignoring the stars
for when we were together I preferred
to watch you from spotless to scars...
They need to come back, the sky
mourns their absence everyday
like I often do because of yours
I'm writing to the blossoms
especially the Roses in the rain,
they must think I hate their scent
yet I love it...I just couldn't smell it
whilst in your warm fragrant arms
even the road is hurt for she thought
all those promises of forever together
were hers, you seldom promised too.
The lawn's never stopped asking for
you...everyone misses, everyone thinks
you should have stayed a little longer
Bed still has your space kept & cold
The isles wonder why you won't walk
their even just one more time...
the curtains no longer glow in gold
even at dawn... everyone's in frown
& fed up of the excuses they're told
I'll have to apologise to my heart
for letting him think it'd found a mate
I'm to blame for trying to predict fate...
I've tried to wait a little longer for you
but it clearly seems you ain't coming
back...We all wish you could return...
Why does desire always have to burn?
I'll write to the ocean and tell her to expect
us no more... that tear was the last of you
the sad gaze you left me wearing was my goodbye
I'll write to the DJ continuum and tell him
I wish he could replay the music of out time together
for though short lived I'd give away this eternity
to relieve that brief moment that beats millenniums...
I'd choose you over life, because you gave me
what years before you couldn't find... peace
I'll never know the serene I found in your embrace
because I'll never give another as much trust
as I gave you... you were an Angel... you were paradise
I'll never forget that day... the tears in your eyes...
I'll never stop writing about us... we were
better than jack and Rose let alone Romeo and Juliet
We were better than the movies because
we were real... I wonder why we had to end
like movies and books... I wonder...**
*Yours truly...
Ignatius Hosiana Mar 2016
She snored like a stuffed pig
and he so much hated it
but every time he remembered
her breathtaking smile, he cared less
about how loud she actually snored  
because the perfection in the joyful stretch
of her ****** muscles in juxtaposition
to the snore not only reminded him about the vows
" For better for worse" but also that every blessing had a curse
and people were really two faced like the coins
and we decide which face we see when we flip
he knew there's a dark side to even the most twinkling star
just like there was no beautiful one without a scar
what mattered was he chose her and she chose him
and once he realised that life wasn't as hard as it may seem
the snores suddenly turned into sweet lullaby
that he badly missed them the moment
she phoned and confessed she couldn't make it home
silence felt worse than the snores had ever felt
it was a torment the moment he placed down the phone
he hated it and whenever she was away he would die
in longing for the completeness of her lovely imperfection
he ached, tossed and turned trying to find her in the void
just like he did when they'd just married due to her snore
only this time it was because of true affection
he badly missed her, an irony he just couldn't ignore
Ignatius Hosiana Mar 2016
she didn't look back to see the tears as they crawled
or my tired fingers that snapped with a click
she didn't look to see my trousers high rolled
or my cheeks turn pink especially the left that did twitch
but I wanted her to do it so that I would see her last look
needing to know her final description in our book
I needed to see the reality of how our radar gets shredded
and how she was holding that moment I dreaded
there were questions in my heart that one glance
should have answered like whether there would be another chance
I was sick watching her leave as I grieved
I tried so hard to disguise that I was weak from disbelief
was it all a lie, was that the sour taste that seasoned goodbye?
was the tree not deep enough in ground that it had to die
simply due to the drought of a few weeks doubt?
she didn't look back even when she reached the last bend
that would our visibility totally end
yet I still told myself she would, that we weren't done
as I sat down torn between running
after her or just looking on at a heart burn
with untold fires of rage, and murderous yearning
maybe I should have followed her and begged some more
but if a week wasn't enough to do it could a minute avert her 'No'?
it was a blunt knife plunged to the hilt into my flesh
and mercilessly twisted for me to have a maximum feel
it was spittle right onto my favourite dish when I've starved over a month
it was a cancer at it's last stages slowly eating me away
wanting to chew over and over the little flesh
left on my feeble bones to mere pulp
or a noose helplessly ******* out the little life left
and I wishing I didn't kick the support under my feet
beckoning someone to come to my rescue and cut the rope
but the gnawing tightness around my neck stealing my desperate cry
and even after that bend I still adorably saw her right there
I saw her close to me and I saw her everywhere
how could I not see her everywhere when for years
she was my pillar, my strength and palm that wiped my tears?
I fell back to the ground and looked straight to the afternoon sun
without blinking,all my existence in ecstasy
and in the nothingness I knew that was the last dot
of happiness in my lifetime I would ever see
And as I in vain implored myself to be strong
I only grew weaker wondering what really went wrong
Ignatius Hosiana Feb 2016
It burrowed through her heart like a scared mole
sending ripples of pain straight to her soul
disbelief clogged her eyes as she watched discombobulated
by a lot of images strange and very unrelated
the air smelled of rose flower which scent didn't fit the moment
for her skin was weaved in piercing thorns of torment
her mind was a rim spinning contrary to the globe
as a dull alien sensation throbbed beneath her lobe
she could smell blood as vivid as it tested coppery
and her sky blue eyes turned bloodshot and teary
so much for an adventure she thought
she couldn't place her position in her congested mind
yet she had none but little strength much as she fought
she perspired yet it was darker than sunny
as she regretted focussing on the destination ,not the journey
Entering her vintage car was all she could remember
for her brain was roasting worse than a burning ember
it was like going through hell head first
made worse by the itching sub Saharan thirst
she mourned and cursed but after a time passed
she realised her agony was eating her voice
and instead ******* whispers leaving her no choice
but silence for she was suddenly voiceless and dumb
she tried to lift limb after limb but all were numb
she couldn't even blink as much as she couldn't think
serpentine tears crawled out her chilly visage
yet she could hardly scratch
All she saw was a blurry  image
like she'd taken too much scotch
Had she? Had she tried to drink away her pain
****, the steering pressed into her chest
squeezing her heart, bruising her breast
the agony,despair and pain was driving her insane
she suddenly remembered every detail as the car heated
she was escaping from reality whence she cheated
Did she really think few bottles of bitter wine
would fix her mistakes,that drunk she'd feel fine?
Ignatius Hosiana Feb 2016
You are shattered and so am I
And thinking that I'll forget is a lie
but can't we find a way to fix each other instead of hurting alone
can't we get the two broken
hearts to stand as one
Don't you think two broken
people could truly be loyal
after all they've known the
incinerating ache of betrayal
Can't we find a way of making each other feel at home
like support each other,not only cuddle to feel warm
can't we share our experiences and
find a way to accept they happened
and instead of feeling sorry
you be the page and I the ink
and together we write another love story
can't we find a way to find contentment in each other
instead of whimpering over spilled Milk
wasting tears mourning loves that never were
yet we could find merry if we jump and fall again
I mean ain't you even just anxious to find out
without having a single speck of doubt
if all love ends but sadly and in searing pain
We could hold on to history forever but it
still would make no difference
or we could let go,finger by finger until we free fall
after all the ball's in our hands,it's our call
we could choose to focus on the past wishing
things had taken a different bearing
and freeze in the cold air of biting despair
believing our hearts are shattered beyond repair
and keep going down the rumbling doldrums and not care
or we could decide anything is worth daring
stick to and play by the ruthless rules of "it's over"
and give "us" a shot, by starting over
for so long we've been nothing but two crazy sad friends
How about we just take the lovers road, see where it ends?
Macy Opsima Jan 2016
it was tuesday, the 19th of january

when a single glance to your eyes

made my lenses foggy and not deliberate

and with a single snap of  fingers,

i lost everything that i had

i will never look at tuesdays the same way again
(i was drugged and someone stole my school bag, wallet, and cellphone)
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