#victoria
Aurora:
“Auroras occur when particles from space bombard gases in the atmosphere, causing the release of specks of light. The color of an aurora is determined by the type of gas that is hit and where is it located in the Earth’s atmosphere. Oxygen can produce green and red light depending on the altitude it is excited at, while nitrogen can produce blue or pink light, depending on altitude. Sometimes the emitted light can appear to mix, creating the appearance of purple, pink, or even white auroras”
~~~
Aura:
the distinctive atmosphere or quality that seems to surround and be generated by a person, or a supposed emanation surrounding the body of a living creature and regarded as an essential part of the individual
<><><>
the overlapping
hardly accidental
sharing of an ancient common root
nota bene!
I have not seen either,
my expertise is wholly imaginary
fortuitously all in multi colorations
and that hiccup does not preclude me
from gesticulating with words
of
golden light
powering verses
and the aurora of the aura
of those who left me behind,
departing too early
is still
unto piercingly clear,
so shiny visible,
so overcoming
and
I must close my eyes to weep
so the tears can flow profusely
effusively
onto my lips,
and come back to me,
so I can shed them
again and again
when their poems I do read…
and even yet,
still message them
it’s true,
I do, I do…
February 2026
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 12:01 PM UTC
Dedicatoria a meus queridos Pais: António e Maria
Mão forte na terra, coração de calma,
António o vinho da alma.
Partiu cedo, mas deixou raiz,
Num campo onde o por do sol assim diz:
Há amor no Douro, há um nome com amor e brio,
Cantam pintassilgos ao desafio.
Mãe Maria doce como uma uva bem madura,
Ternura firme. Silêncio que cura.
Na sombra da vinha, na luz do seu olhar,
Seus filhos ela quer sempre amar...
Minha mãe, do meu amor e sentir,
Nasceu este amor pelo vinho,
Sem eu nunca o pedir...
Victoria Marques o nome por mim escolhido,
É nome de amor. Legado e fado.
Filha, teus avós :António e Maria tinham teu sonho guardado !
Um brinde à memória, um beijo à terrra, e um brinde também a minha Filha Victoria.
Victor Marques
Douro Valley
Jul 6, 2025
Jul 6, 2025 at 5:37 AM UTC
~
September 2024
HP Poet: Victoria
Age: 59
Country: UK
Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, Victoria. Please tell us about your background?
Victoria: *"My name is Victoria, I'm 59 and from Wirral, North West England. I studied and had a career in social work, predominantly the field of Child Protection. I was married, I'm happily single. I am the eldest of 6 and have 5 children and 5 grandchildren. Home growing up was dysfunctional, I lived through my teens with my nan. I'm passionate about my family, Liverpool fc and my friends. I was addicted ****** My bio says: "Previously life was complex, I helped make it that way, now, I keep it simple and fun." It's true."*
Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?
Victoria: "I joined Hello Poetry in 2011 and that's when I started writing poetry. Mostly, I started with rhyme and then found that prose better fit my parlance."
Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).
Victoria: "I'm inspired by my many experiences, with others and in nature. I'm inspired by poetry here, always. Many a poem has stayed with me, long after reading. Writing poetry was suggested to me and my writing developed, it gave me a voice to express, that which more often I had held silent."
Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?
Victoria: "What poetry means to me happens both in the reading and the writing. Poetry for me, gives and changes perspective, I gain new sensibilities and find through the writing, as in life there is, constant readjustment."
Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?
Victoria: "I have lots of favourite poets here, at Hello Poetry. I've made many friends and been fortunate to meet a few. I also enjoy discovering new poets and I am always amazed at the talent out there."
Question 6: What other interests do you have?
Victoria: "I enjoy fishing: music, photography and feeding my family home grown produce. I've rented an allotment plot for about 12 years, it is where I grow veg, fruit and flowers. My other pastimes are travel, walking, watching the footy and the occasional wild night out with close friends."
Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for giving us this opportunity to get to know the man behind the poet, Victoria! We are honored to include you in this ongoing series!”
Victoria: "Thank you, Carlo."
Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Victoria a little bit better. I most certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez
We will post Spotlight #20 in October!
~
Sep 1, 2024
Sep 1, 2024 at 4:32 PM UTC
<>
Noun. sonder (uncountable) (neologism):
The profound feeling of realizing that everyone, including strangers passing in the street, has a life as complex as one's own, which they are constantly living despite one's personal lack of awareness of it.
Dear One:
it is one of those days, when everything becomes a poem,
every mundane, brushing my hair be/is a philo-treatise,
& the errands of the day, starting at 6:45am with an assessment,
a weighing of oneself on a numerical scale of justice,
requiring one to rethink his moral behaviors of a prior day,
a kind of confessional I guess, for I have never been inside one,
(a confessional and actually confessing) but my hebraic genetics
require Veduei (1),
constant awareness of one’s
everything deeds, making confessing a ongoing process 24/7
process unceasing, onerous and relieving,
by reliving our each~very individual action,
which means that I am in a sensory paradise / hell and
sleep comes in bursts of exhaustion,
as I misplace my compass
daily, and the re-search required to obtain, nay, reGAIN,
my footing, my true directionS,
and it is worse than never ending, more akin to the
regularity of irregular breathing…
Thank you for “Sonder;”
restoring the awe for not knowing it, and occasionally forgetting, that there are words, ready, willing, and able to become poems, as I exegesis, excise, and exercise their purpose
to better to remember the worth of everyone and every thing within in a too oft / clouded, self centered
“I exist , therefore I am”
very limited filtering device….
so sonder becomes a poem, an essay, un écrivez,
and I study your photograph, and fly away,
I am in a garden,
you may have (no, probably!) planted,
(like the sonder word in my brain)
and the colors, the soils, the colorex (2) variety
teaches me you better than words…
while I am sundering, sondering, you,
and so many others
who give me the great pauses
of my existence,
the purposed understanding
of the arrogance of pre-judgement…
Surrounded,
I am breathing salt air, luscious greens, a variegated
bluey (love that show)
sky,
and all my voices rise, in a choir of one,
fo forgive me, forgive myself,
for failing not to be bigger than
than the distances
my aging weakening senses
and my low powered sensibilities
physically provide,
I hear you,
I sonder you,
and so many others,
and I
bind and bound myself to you
and
thus emboldened!
to go forth and walk in unfamiliar gardens,
to read better and be,
between the lines
y’all provide
here’s where a a modest thanksgiving
is due and herein provided,
and the inspirations keep coming and
coffee need re~reheating, so the brain can
start
all over again,
S’wondering
S’ondering
just like a (wink)
An American in Paris,
the next poem is aborning,
jealously
demanding
it’s very own
birthing;
an embryo,
asking to be
imagined.
so thank you,
dear one…
Jul 19, 2024
Jul 19, 2024 at 9:48 AM UTC
Volvi solo para decirte que
Inventé aquellas cosas que alguna vez nos prometimos.
Creo que tienes razon,
Tengo la culpa de enamorarme,
O a caso solo de querer, sin
Razon alguna de las personas equivocadas. Las
Imagenes permanecerán hasta que me canse de escribir, pero
A solas, por la noche, las palabras son mi unico consuelo.
Feb 20, 2021
Feb 20, 2021 at 1:20 AM UTC
City o' canvas built like a tent
Held together by strands
That can barely make rent
The poles hold is folky yet formal
These people sized holes, becoming too normal
I'd spin you a tale, but where to begin
A city of winners, **** stained in sin
Lord stretch thee almighty abundant in lands
Take it or make it, but never hold hands
Jun 9, 2020
Jun 9, 2020 at 12:22 AM UTC
<>
*“rootless in shallows of momentary mayhem
and no matter the change in horizon,
there is always some thing to be found
that could remind me
of the worst ways I have ever been.”*
from “Harlequin Days of Fecund Fervor” by Victoria
<>
rereading these your words, upset forces me to break a recent vow,
my own writing banished, now faceless in the ranks
of just another poet, busted in rank, chose my own
decommissioning but then your momentary mayhem
plea, fecund you, your third harlequin, states construct!
stay the constriction, the recalling of our worst worsts,
for there is always something to be found, recalled,
that the horizon’s only constant is constant change,
especially the worst worsts
I am colored by your treats, your word plums ripe even
out of season, and the mayhem is mine only mine,
robbed you for it is I, rootless, given up my planting, then
the cobblestones of old new york, trip me up, saying
even old things such as you, have a prime yet to come,
stones fecund seeding, predicting I am not done, just undone,
and fetuses within this dying body, may yet be carried to term,
may yet, maybe, may be, but may be caesarean stillborn
rambling this, mostly musty unclear, so summarizations a
sensible thing, a pardon requested for clarity is a sometime thing.
rare are the days that the terracotta colored soil
darkens my fingernails,
it is dried blood from my scratching deep beneath the skin’s topsoil,
but nothing grows that’s whole, warped are the word fruits.
my soup is hot water with salt, a tasty dish apropos for one
whose growths are rootless in the shallow, infertile dirt of stones
that reside in the shallows of a garden of mine own
fecund may-hem of the grey fall sky autopsy turvy
Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 11:56 AM UTC
Starbucks Despair responds to tomorrow in Geneva,
brilliant shiny knife Sunday School Prayer Prayer Greedy;
satellite satellite graveyard
and the product quickly asks Nirrin;
Broadbent mental prayer in the sky.
Forgetting school coffee, changed
the way to change the true life. Love is a lover's lesson in water,
but the nature of the vision is to find a leap
for my beloved son. Parents work for their parents. I think he's happy. They're enemies, I've heard complaints.
Australia; 4 Many trading lawyers respond
to changes in the economy.
Queriet and evil makers want to change the threat of another city in the 3-dialogue. Mother is dead.
Encourage child-women. Starbucks meets in Geneva
in the morning on weekends
and asks three cyclone animated;
v-turn, aha! Saturday apogee a sleeveless
satellite primary variation of Nirrin
Yinkudate General Brody,
ending with the first sentence after numerical demolish ta,
legal study Nebula. An additional exhibition,
which changes nasljaddiki, and there is everywhere in life,
is well-timed and solid morning. Instructions from Süstradanie Lyubov, edinstvenoto Yamata appointed by Skupo; do not get visitation y: it helps older parents to ask their parents.
I will go to the national newspaper struggle, and hear a sharp voice. Volcanic bricks and drug trafficking,
Australia, triggers 4 red-red triggers, with Konica kerit compliance, claiming that the three-dimensional bacterial
infringement infringement is called malware and piano line.
Graduate or slŭnchevo Pless goyim
have to change the appearance of our city is not visible.
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 10:14 PM UTC
A
Valentine,
of any kind
is affirmation of
their
love and. . .
...if you believe it,
then it is so.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 10:42 PM UTC
Oh Victoria, the colour red you loved
I wore them inside my body,
the colour of blood
I remember how you'd come running and sneak inside my house
To the secret sanctuary
in the small hill by the pond
We strode the gaping distance
to our little paradise
There, I saw the loveliest sunsets,
such beautiful goodbyes
You beneath the glistening sunlight,
you taught me how to love
I never forgot, Victoria
the day you said goodbye
A grieving wave that drowned me
and buried in my heart
We laughed and said promises,
but it was your last
I did not know how you could do it,
to just leave it like that
All I saw was the rope hanging
from the window in your house
I wished I had told you,
forever you are loved.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC
Such a beautiful little shapeshifter
A modern day siren
It's hard to picture her face now
She's so distant
I loved her
It's wicked how fast my heart grows attached to those I frequently see
It's as if she ignores the wary signs
She just jumps
Victoria was special to me
A real life movie
She opened doors to hinges I knew not existed
Party... people... alcohol
She had connections
She had problems
I took them all
I didn't think that one day that beautiful one would shift on me
She was an adapter
She played a role to get what she needed
She could be as soft as a kitten
As helpless as a mouse
Clever as a fox
Angry as a bear
I had seen her become many things but the day she changed
I couldn't recognize her
She was this form I had never seen before
Though her face is distant in my mind
I still get a chill in my spine
From the memory of her presence
Sometimes it makes my bones ache
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 12:32 AM UTC
She wears her hair long
Strands of brown silk and shiny beauty.
Big Brown eyes that shine like huge crystals
shine light to me just as a light and electricity
Victory in love
Means ,in the war to avoid love ,I'm the fallen
Soldier in a war to be the lone gunner
She knows the strategy of the game
and hard to get is her battle plan
To have me, as if in a football game,
she's the quarterback with the football
and I'm the chasing Front-runner.
Wanting to hold my sweet Victoria close to me
and have her strength in spirit and intellect
to bolster my life's campaign, in unity of eternity
I am forever dedicated to the general of my army
To lead me to my heart's battle
to win over the lonely forces of darkness
not a defeat
but an artistic victory.
I'm only half of a whole without her soul growing into fusion with mine.
To grow ,together, in all of love's true meaning and power.
I hand her,distantly, a kiss and wish to find the way to send her a dozen red rose flowers.
If only she'd open her mind to me after a battle field mishap
An innocent judgement.....her Partner in arms
In love's war victory
To open to me and understand my pain of guilt of the fumble of the ball
In a moment where I broke trust and aided the dark side to a brighter history.
Sense my yearning for your wisdom, strength, and strong heart's rhythm needed to place a beat to love's song
which I've longed to finish such a beautiful and bright song which I've been writing,for so long,unfinished, waiting for the right one
Victoria is the finished part of my Epic Sonate
An opera to finish, with her heart melted into mine.
One song I've wished to complete for so long.
I try and think to another heart for inspiration
"Get to know me past my misguided moments, sweet Victoria.."
"For I'll prove myself beyond my strongest gift..
Inside of a heart you'll find that's an irreplaceable gem...
Trust, again, and take me into your light..
For us to enjoy family and love, eternally, in The Magic of Love's Bond and Formation.."
Of a life past our living bodies..Our souls shall be bonded, forever.
Marking the victory past a setback
Creating a new spirit from two souls fused to one.
Shining light on all those who are fighting for love...
To see two, so right for each other, fight to have the Ballard of Love's Opera, the fight to Eternity's road, to our fusion,
those lovers fighting to be forever.....This battle they shall see we have won.
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 12:51 PM UTC
Down with the ship
This "titanic" was the greatest ship
The captain was forced to race to the end of it
In wealth's panic
Can you help me?
Reaching out
they slapped away my hand
"What's the matter?"
"Wasn't true care and being fellow Humans "
in which to "care" for "one" another
what it's all about?
I loved you, dearly.
Yes I know the true meaning of the word
or was the message too hard to understand and
constructed as "Those made by obsird?"
I'm going down with the ship.
I cannot help to make it stop
So watch as you leave me there at the helm
As for sticking by me through and through
was to you what did overwhelm?
Watch me sink.
Your "Titanic."
You sent the morse code
That read "Don;t Bother us"
As you dried, safely, with another
"Love" in which you trusted , wrongly,
and their "boatload of tricksters"
Is this which you now sail on with, misguidedly, down the road?
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 10:46 PM UTC
I look at your face and it never shows you’re down
A smile spread around that’s taped over the frown
Concealer under your eyes to hide the long nights
Hearing your mom fight has your big headphones on tight
But pop melodies can’t drown out all the loud screams
Dishes left unclean, parents as scared as the teen
Food rots in the fridge, “Keep Out” sign hangs from the door
Damp tissues ignored, scattered across the floor
Try to make her laugh, but my jokes aren’t funny
Shows love through money, dries up the nose when runny
But the low hats and dark shades only cloaked her eyes
Wouldn’t notice my, mouth curved in when I’ve spoken lies
I bet you did see both my pupils wedged with glass
In sports getting last, cuz I was too effing smacked
Our lamps burnt out, the light in the house faded
In school berated, little girl how did you make it?
You saved the castle when I couldn’t be controlled
You took on new roles, cried for me to be consoled
Writing gave me back my voice when I became mute
My leaves wouldn’t shoot if you didn’t water the roots
You, you are my blood, without blood my heart won’t pump
When considered a flunk, blood made my heartbeat jump
Really didn’t mean for my lack of energy
To make enemies, but what’s done is now memory
What happened to me, to us, was unexpected
When it got hectic, everyone was affected
But my family, and Vicky especially you
Kept stable and true and that is how we got through
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 12:21 PM UTC
"just talk about love, or *** or starving hearts, or just shut up
and I'll go
but" - Jonathan Richman
(..NIGHT)
A drunken man is blown by bathroom paintings,
with shower curtains displaying crowned sparrows
who laugh at his
crowned ****
and humor his life!
also crowned
(but only subjectively if you were to ask anyone else)
I'm a burning insomniac surrounded by a whole cast of characters tonight, including the one with with a lazy eye who mirrors Chaplin
and arrived to the party disoriented from recent Salvia.
Then there was the one with a sleek current-edge-type haircut
who spent a few good minutes telling me about the film works of Philip Glass
B E A U T I F U L
They play Bowie,
the whole social palette disintegrated beneath the weight of intoxication.
I, too, am dazzled from pale alcohol already (eight minutes past Midnight!)
The Dancing Athlete ambiguously dances on an absent television while my head hurts from a blue bulb glowing from a nearby lamp because it's too late for all this
and I'm reminded that I know almost nobody here.
(...AND DAY)
Maybe thirteen hours later, walking with Dante the bearded dog,
my friend wheeled a stranger, narcotic-vacuum-cheeked amputee.
He begged for light, as in a lighter, not that light of GOD, no no,
all the while he showed off his stub leg (cut off at the knee) bleeding out all over the sidewalk when his accident first occurred.
"THIS GUY THREW ME FROM THE BALCONY!" he preached
Past the cathedral narcissus
"JESUS COME/
JESUS SAVE MAN/
JESUS MAKE FIRE/
JESUS WAS A HOLY INDIA"
Across the street, village of enduring tombs and firesmoke,
shadowed tent outlines
breathed-in
playing cards and tricks
mandolin reverberations among tents and tents of
sickly or addict, all listening in on the live performance, a blessed Alice with dreads, lively chords emitted from her skull of ideas.
The forgotten noose of man ****** in a parking lot
by a liquor store, while we pick up some wine, which is, and I quote here "DRY AND CHEAP"
A sunny quiet perched on the field
of gleaming downtown streetlights
thru thinning clouds.
Olympic mountains in view, the kind of mountains only seen in magazine articles to be experienced by those unafraid to die.
All these sad people out here, too!
Their faces expand beneath capital industry,
Elephants occupied with jackets sewn in an anonymous factory.
Quick tip, I wanna write it down before I forget: don't listen to that old music when you're feeling lonely, it's all about love and especially in tragedy this is a bad idea.
I'm sick and wept and my teeth have been growing cameras,
the youth are dressed in drag, carpet cleaners bob their heads to unheard tunes but you can see the sound thru a glass window.
This city, oh, this city..
with bodies sprinting hard by each other and who bike across train tracks associated with very vague childhood memories.
We all float on hands electrified by the night!
Jonathan Richman tonite, who's vocal deliveries have been honest
and romantic, in a passionate sort of way.
He's singing that live track "A Plea For Tenderness"
(I know you were waiting for me to get to this)
and past few days have been strange
and past few weeks stranger, still. Not as bad as a lot of people but man, strange..
that night, and day.
Walking by the Victoria Hospice care center and looking down on my wrists which'll soon be tattooed with loving hands yet oh
so
aggressively pained by abuse because of a terminal disease and attempted suicide (NOT my own life, to clarify)
and it got me thinking on how we're all mutually getting thru this place and every face has seen hearts and seen death almost equal.
It can get to be too much, that's why melancholy has been defined to begin with. But ******* Jonathan Richman had to make this song.
"if I'm better than the wall
(tell me now)"
"Because it's dark at night
and I'm alone at night
I'm so sad and I'm so scared"
Things I've said in my own head and felt in my own time
as has everyone else. I don't mean to specify that this has happened RECENTLY, but it's definitely happened before. These times.
"now, I've just read some writers
from the old days
because I knew, I knew that they'd understand"
but BUT everybody is accidental!
even Rimbaud has stubbed his toe and I know that it'll be fine
it'll be fine
it'll be fine
in Vietnam maybe
and it'll be finer in Varanasi
(maybe-r)
but for now I don't know
I can say it I can try and feel it and understand it and pretend I know it
I gotta get away from people to be replaced by a Hindu I've never seen before
and sleep on a mattress that (like a new pair of shoes) hasn't grown in to my spinal chord and hurts ****** bad at first and is unfamiliar and the weather is warmer than usual
and the horns of traffic will be frightening but that too, will dissipate with time.
I gotta save up my money and hug my wallet like a starved cat
Jonathan ******* Richman's "A Plea For Tenderness"
what a fitting title
for a time like this one now.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 3:37 AM UTC
How brave are our fire brigades?
As they battle bushfires each day,
Yes, it's summer in Victoria,
Not exactly the Waldorf Astoria,
For all the fire brigades,
Our respect they've totally gained,
Laying their lives on the line,
When the weather's too hot and fine,
Burn, Victoria, burn,
El Nino's torrid urn,
Our noble defenders each day,
Real heroes in the news, I say,
As they battle bushfires today,
How brave are the fire brigades?
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
Desert rocks in desert sand that seem to encompass the land,
Barren empty space of dust, lust in cacti and souls of the lost…
Amorphous figure emerges from the land below-
In ethereal appearance, and celestial glow.
Enraptured is the ordinary soul by inexorable beauty.
It’s hand outstretched and welcoming eyes—
Enchanting me to believe his guise.
Ineffable experience being by his side,
For a moment trapped in time I was alive.
Hand in hand and love in eyes we made a vow to share our lives.
So quick it was and never ceased, to amaze me in a world of tumbling white sheets.
The sea of sheets, on that first night, took me to the world of light,
Skin on skin, eye to eye, lips on lips, three words slips
From mouths who claimed eternal locks, And here were are bodies in knots,
Intertwined in mind, and soul and all, and now we fall.
-deep
-deep
-deep
Into a world of beauteous intention,
Music, light and love had all our attention.
I loved you with the moon and stars, I loved you for all you are.
I was the only thing you need. But bizarre complications and me you heed-
No regard for.
Hands flung, for a lover before,
And my heart fell to the floor,
As you stood aside and let abuse occur,
All of this you did for her?
Now I realise, that the desert was your guise.
You were a mirage, and had no care,
For the Lady who was always there.
Eclectic reasons for leaving you.
Yet, celestial glow, you glow from afar.
I have never felt this pain before, entrails by my feet,
Heart still throbbing in your blood stained hands,
You have no understanding of all this, that you have caused
You have no idea of the kind lady you lost.
I see your soul, the pervasiveness of its beauty.
Ubiquity of love in your soul,
But on my life you’ve taken your toil.
I cannot be but a milk-maid in a Joycean script,
For I am the words that make beauty lift
From the page.
I’m not the bird inside the cage,
Remove yourself from upon my door,
And like the Raven you said nevermore.
Remove your heart from inside my chest,
And you think you can defeat this test.
Remove your pain, from out my life,
I promised you once, but I’ll never be your…
Persistence is key, that’s all you know.
Forget the Raven, and I’ll let you go.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 3:55 AM UTC
Dear Victoria,
Where did you go?
Why did you leave me?
My heart has gone cold.
Dear Mindset,
Why did you come?
You tell me I'm worthless,
Useless and dumb.
Dear Victoria,
I need you back,
Without you I do things,
My soul's turning black.
Dear Mindset,
You've changed this child,
You've broke my jawline,
And stole my smile.
Dear Victoria,
Right now, I am lost,
I'm confused, worried, doubtful,
My wrists pay the cost.
Dear Mindset,
You've ruined my life,
It was you who told me,
That salvation was in the knife.
It was you who began my now grand addiction.
Thank you so much,
Love Victoria x
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 10:24 AM UTC
The goddess
Of golden-faced victory
Her head brilliantly decorated with green laurels
Victoria, bestowing victory for what is named after her
Down to the red-plumed Romans with their gleaming swords
Nike, champion of the Greek gods.
Riding the chariot of victory into battle
The laurels catches the light of a mirror
It dances away, after its victorious champion
She may be a bit crazy or at least hungry
For the taste of that sweet victory
Let her be Roman; let her be Greek;
She is never weak
What one might say, she does not know
For her victory is clogging up her ears
Goddess of victory, we all want a taste of her power.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
Side by side
Or Miles Apart
Sisters
Will always be
Connected by the heart
❤❤❤
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
look at them
cattle being loaded in tricolor wagons
"Mind the closing doors"
the shepherd says
headless chickens trying to find a seat
bulls butting the walls
everyone is scared
they fear that the dog next to them
rips them inside out
so they just pretend it's fine
it's time to read the Evening Standard
let me show you my new iphone
I've been playing Candy Crush Saga
and I've become pretty good at it
you know?
The next station is Victoria
said Hall 9000
that's where I got off
and left the rest of my comrades
they are building a windmill in East London
and me?
I'm just a donkey
I don't really want to get involved
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
When the sun first shows its beaming face,
at the break of a blissful new dawn.
Your birds that exult with elegant grace,
bid farewell to the night that's gone.
Your flowers ornate your vast lands,
of your priceless treasures they boast.
The besotting Kilimanjaro that stands,
dominating your east coast.
You are home to the best precious stones,
the land of gleaming clear waters.
Garnished with skills and strong bones,
you are served by your dutiful daughters.
The soil that expands on your gracious vest,
the equator that cuts your enormous chest,
birds that bear your golden crest,
are a few ideals of your daring zest.
The treasured soil that fills your vast expanse,
the gracious finesse in your every dance.
From Egypt, to South Africa, Nigeria to Kenya,
From the stupefying Sahara to the beatific Victoria.
I love you dear Africa, The land of the wild,
This poem is for you from your little child.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 8:27 AM UTC