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Klara Feb 2014
ik heb je lief zoals
de zon begint te schijnen wanneer je lippen opkrullen in een glimlach
neen
ik heb je lief zoals
je aanwezigheid de zon doet schijnen
neen neen
ik heb je lief zoals
jij de zonneschijn bent
neen neen neen
ik heb je lief zoals
neen neen neen neen
ik heb je lief

ja
ik heb je lief
this is in Dutch I know, but it is one of the very first poems I ever wrote and it loses it's value when translated
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2014
I am alone with you.
A fire burns in the distance,
It lights our faces
As before in the empty cinema,
Where we arrived, at some beginning,
To watch a foreign film. Our eyes,
In new utterance, murmuring subtitles,  
What words could never speak,
The tips of seats, rows of air
And the moony screen,
A tableau of feathers and cloud,
Two of us, alone, as one,
Rapt in the spread of wings.

Later, alone we dine in the Café  
Campagne. Our conversation  
Deafens a burgeoning crowd,
Coffee was nectar, our words  
Were whispering petals.
Dearest Blodeuwedd, I saw the sweetest  
Sorrow on your face, the green ocean
In your eyes, I was cleansed  
By your tears.  I have always
Known you.

Across the border on the far island,
You stepped into the waters with me
And when you disrobed you lit the stars
And the stars and my eyes kissed your skin,
Your slender legs, columns, tilting
Toward heaven, in the age of Helen,
Touched the water and the sky,
I saw the milky way that night.

Síneánn, I am your Pablo,
We are two white birds sailing
Over the foam of the sea.
Solvent to my stone, you are the hinge
To my casement world.  Rain petal
Voice, lithe, alabaster woman,
I am lost in your Sargasso eyes,
I hold your skin, my Selkie,
Sweet Niamh, I have lived  
One hundred years this week.

It is warm in the distance,
In the country of the sun,
We end at the house in Umbria,
In the autumn, there is no word
Siberia, my light Rosaleen.
Now is harvest time.  
At the great table we feast  
With family and friends  
And I am not alone with you.
Blodeuwedd is the Welsh Goddess of spring created from flowers.  In the late Christianized myth, She was created by the great magicians Math and Gwydion to be Lleu's mate, in response to a curse pronounced by his mother that he would never have a wife from any race then on the Earth. They fashioned Blodeuwedd from flowers and breathed life into Her.  In Welsh, blodeuwedd, meaning "Flower-face", is a name for the owl.

She represents temporary beauty and the bright blooming that must come full circle through death: She is the promise of autumn visible in spring.

Pronunciation: bluh DIE weth ("th" as in "weather")  Alternate spellings: Blodeuedd, Blodewedd.


Selkies (also known as silkies or selchies) are mythological creatures found in Faroese,Icelandic, Irish, and Scottish folklore. The word derives from earlier Scots selich, (from Old English seolh meaning seal). Selkies are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. The legend apparently originated on the Orkney and Shetland Islands and is very similar to those of swan maidens.
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2015
( sha-neen )*

I am alone with you.
A fire burns in the distance,
It lights our faces
As before in the empty cinema,
Where we arrived, at some beginning,
To watch a foreign film. Our eyes,
In new utterance, murmuring subtitles,  
What words could never speak,
The tips of seats, rows of air
And the moony screen,
A tableau of feathers and cloud,
Two of us, alone, as one,
Rapt in the spread of wings.

Later, alone we dine in the Café  
Campagne. Our conversation  
Deafens a burgeoning crowd,
Coffee was nectar, our words  
Were whispering petals.
Dearest Blodeuwedd, I saw the sweetest  
Sorrow on your face, the green ocean
In your eyes, I was cleansed  
By your tears.  I have always
Known you.

Across the border on the far island,
You stepped into the waters with me
And when you disrobed you lit the stars
And the stars and my eyes kissed your skin,
Your slender legs, columns, tilting
Toward heaven, in the age of Helen,
Touched the water and the sky,
I saw the milky way that night.

Síneánn, I am your Pablo,
We are two white birds sailing
Over the foam of the sea.
Solvent to my stone, you are the hinge
To my casement world.  Rain petal
Voice, lithe, alabaster woman,
I am lost in your Sargasso eyes,
I hold your skin, my Selkie,
Sweet Niamh, I have lived  
One hundred years this week.

It is warm in the distance,
In the country of the sun,
We end at the house in Umbria,
In the autumn, there is no word
Siberia, my light Rosaleen.
Now is harvest time.  
At the great table we feast  
With family and friends  
And I am not alone with you.
Blodeuwedd is the Welsh Goddess of spring created from flowers.  In the late Christianized myth, She was created by the great magicians Math and Gwydion to be Lleu's mate, in response to a curse pronounced by his mother that he would never have a wife from any race then on the Earth. They fashioned Blodeuwedd from flowers and breathed life into Her.  In Welsh, blodeuwedd, meaning "Flower-face", is a name for the owl.

She represents temporary beauty and the bright blooming that must come full circle through death: She is the promise of autumn visible in spring.

Pronunciation: bluh DIE weth ("th" as in "weather")  Alternate spellings: Blodeuedd, Blodewedd.


Selkies (also known as silkies or selchies) are mythological creatures found in Faroese,Icelandic, Irish, and Scottish folklore. The word derives from earlier Scots selich, (from Old English seolh meaning seal). Selkies are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. The legend apparently originated on the Orkney and Shetland Islands and is very similar to those of swan maidens.
.
tufa alvi Mar 2014
MY SYSTEMS ARE GROWING LIKE LIGHTNING
MY EYES R FADING GREEN
I THINK IM A HACKER
COS IM NEVER DELAYED
MY PLANS R PERFECT
IM A MASTER MIND MYSELF
I NEEN NO CARS
I CAN TRAVEL NOW & THEN
I KNOW IM DEFACED
MY NERVES R REACTING
COS THEy KNOW IM IN PAIN
SPECIAL SERVICE TO MY BOSS;
SPECIAL CARGO TO HER PALS.
Episode.2
As Authored By Phyll.

( *Content;-
this is where the boy child's Bushy drama now unveils...read to know more...haha)


◼◼◼Continuation



Me: Sorry Ma' but that's what many know me as.
       Well i do. Phyll is my English name then.

Her: Phyll...(smiling) What a nice name you have.
       I envy you. Please don't mistake me for others.
       Am a high class lady so you shouldn't expect
       me to pronounce all that. I like it SHORT
       and SWEET just like it is; PHYLL!

Me: Thank you Ma' and am Sorry for challenging
       you with my Tribe and family name.(smiling)

Her: It's ok Phyll,I was born and raised in the city.
        So i wouldn't manage to say it. So tell me
       Phyll, What do you do for a living?

She told me about her birth place as a trap so i could tell her i sad neen raised in the rural area.

Me: I work as a job seeker Ma' (trying to be smart)

Her: So you work with a bureau or you post the
        Jobs online?

Me: Noo! What i meant is that i have no job Ma'.

Her: Huh! You really are funny Phyll. Couldn't
        You just answer that to me directly.huh!

(as she keenly looked at me head to toe and up again)

This lady smiled after having looked at me for quite some time; 3+ minutes. She almost forgot that she was driving. Thank heavens that we were driving in the interior zone where cars weren't passing so often. Definitely she was wondering where i might have picked those colour blocking mtumba clads i was wearing plus the extremely ***** kavunja shoes.)

Her: Do you need a job?
Me: Yes! Yes! Sure Ma' i really need a job.

Her: Could you work for me, at home that is?

Me: Yes Ma' i can.

Her: Okay. Consider yourself employed from now
        On Phyll. You'll be working for me at my
        Compound. You don't have to tell me that
         you were raised up country for i already
        Know. Haha. My compound is yours Phyll!
        Btw where do you stay and with whom?

Me: Thank you so much Ma' May the heavens
      Grant you favour upon the eyes of me...

(as i turned to face her with so much joy in my heart having toiled for two years with no success this was a golden opportunity right before me)

Her: Phyll! Phyll! Phyll! Pleeease! Cut the drama
        Its nothing much for You to turn heads over
         hills.

Me: you can't understand Ma'. Well, I live Alone
       in Kanungaka-behind the famous busaa
       Madiaba pub.

Her: What! That place...Jeeez! I don't want you
        Far Off the compound and so i will give you
       a room in my home where you'll be staying.
       Btw don't worry about the households for the
       Room is fully furnished with everything in.

Having been raised in a matope house which would always shake when the winds were strong and no electricity, i saw this as a blessing which had come my way. And the fact that i had nothing under my name expect my examination results i didn't bother going back to my former hood where I'd always lay my body down after having paid visit to more than 15 offices and met all kinds of receptions some of who were beautiful but arrogant while others were warthog like facially but dove like at heart.

We directly went over to her place and i was shown my new Chamber- it was a spacious room inside her mega massionate. To me; a bush boy-this house and everything in it were heaven on earth and i was astonished beyond words and the only thing that came from my mouth was; wawawawa!!Mamayoo...,(Shocked) but to her; the cool kid from the city- it was normally to stay there.

Her: So Phyll, this will be your room from now
       Onwards. You have all you need there. I'll be
       In my room just next door incase you need
       Anything do feel free to come by and ask,Ok.

Me: 'nitaambia nini watu?'

Her: Phyyyyylllll!! C'mon am talking to you.

Me: Oh! Am Really Sorry Ma' i didn't hear you.

Her: I just realized that you've been wordless since
         We got here. Please this is where you'll be
         Working from tomorrow onwards and also
         Staying so you better start getting used to
         All that's new to you around this place, Ok?

Me: .....

(looking at the chandelier hang on the
       roof top with different lighting bulbs shining)

Her: Pushed me and laughed out loudly; haha...
       Go on at take a shower Phyll. Am gone to
       prepare dinner.come down ones you're done refreshing.
       (as she walks away headed downstairs)


◼◼◼Continues in Ep3

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
COPYRIGHT BY PHYLL
phyllspokenarts@gmail.com
+254704183859
*(C)2018.
Episode two
Seán Mac Falls May 2018
(Pronounced: sha-neen)

I am alone with you.
A fire burns in the distance,
It lights our faces
As before in the empty cinema,
Where we arrived, at some beginning,
To watch a foreign film. Our eyes,
In new utterance, murmuring subtitles,  
What words could never speak,
The tips of seats, rows of air
And the moony screen,
A tableau of feathers and cloud,
Two of us, alone, as one,
Rapt in the spread of wings.

Later, alone we dine in the Café  
Campagne. Our conversation  
Deafens a burgeoning crowd,
Coffee was nectar, our words  
Were whispering petals.
Dearest Blodeuwedd, I saw the sweetest  
Sorrow on your face, the green ocean
In your eyes, I was cleansed  
By your tears.  I have always
Known you.

Across the border on the far island,
You stepped into the waters with me
And when you disrobed you lit the stars
And the stars and my eyes kissed your skin,
Your slender legs, columns, tilting
Toward heaven, in the age of Helen,
Touched the water and the sky,
I saw the milky way that night.

Síneánn, I am your Pablo,
We are two white birds sailing
Over the foam of the sea.
Solvent to my stone, you are the hinge
To my casement world.  Rain petal
Voice, lithe, alabaster woman,
I am lost in your Sargasso eyes,
I hold your skin, my Selkie,
Sweet Niamh, I have lived  
One hundred years this week.

It is warm in the distance,
In the country of the sun,
We end at the house in Umbria,
In the autumn, there is no word
Siberia, my light Rosaleen.
Now is harvest time.  
At the great table we feast  
With family and friends  
And I am not alone with you.
.
Blodeuwedd is the Welsh Goddess of spring created from flowers.  In the late Christianized myth, She was created by the great magicians Math and Gwydion to be Lleu's mate, in response to a curse pronounced by his mother that he would never have a wife from any race then on the Earth. They fashioned Blodeuwedd from flowers and breathed life into Her.  In Welsh, blodeuwedd, meaning "Flower-face", is a name for the owl.

She represents temporary beauty and the bright blooming that must come full circle through death: She is the promise of autumn visible in spring.

Pronunciation: bluh DIE weth ("th" as in "weather")  Alternate spellings: Blodeuedd, Blodewedd.


Selkies (also known as silkies or selchies) are mythological creatures found in Faroese,Icelandic, Irish, and Scottish folklore. The word derives from earlier Scots selich, (from Old English seolh meaning seal). Selkies are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. The legend apparently originated on the Orkney and Shetland Islands and is very similar to those of swan maidens.
.
Daan Jan 2023
Mag ik nog één keer?
Tuurlijk, mogen
maar het kan niet meer.

Zijn we er bijna?
Nog even, ik denk
dat we, ik zie,
neen. Nog een stuk.

Wat een geluk dat we zolang onderweg mogen,
dat we ooit gemogen hebben,
dat we naar 'nog eens' verlangen,
dat naar 't muurtje van de kas.

Dat bewijst ons dat het echt was.
en is.
Daan Nov 2019
Neen, er komt niets.
Sorry, vandaag geen gedicht.
Indeed, in the entire scenario, there no constituents travel. Even in the three clan of time-the neen and the noon comes the morning first of early guest.

Human hatches on human,
The soil must yields in our trip to existence, hence we move into the growth towards the portal.

I'm the world most admirer that waded through mother's bleed, with much showers of pain, the infant icy breeze bawling to commemorate the children of the universe and the nature astounded me with with too much greed.
On this trip, we will succumb,
A trip nine-ten eons synonymous to death, breed of pain.....

The riddles can't stop the hecter!
Fire flame in every enchantment,
Is my own exceptional? Here I am in the military check point. My corticosteroids, my curriculum vitae have been approved YES Bro you're good in the game.

But, one more thing, an I'd that has a dot of bleed;

Oh Heaven I beseech to bend and listen to this
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
you can't tell me that the sole
male fetish for womanhood
was her worth of the crop
of her hair..
              'last time i heard
it was her hips'
and you'd be right in stating
so...
             i was more inclined
by the hands...
     like, little figurines
of ballerinas...
           and snow falling at night,
attired in the hood,
static like a stone,
beneath a lithium
street-lamp...

i too wished for a trucker's
voyage with a niñita...
ah!
           pedant...
   that waving motion?
you can't put
either i or j together with
an ñ...
  unless..

       ninȷítā:
neen-yee-t'ah!
  ******* morons...
went for the hieroglyphs
like quick-bait
before exploring
their literacy
just a little bit further...

   ******* cul de sac
"explorers"...
manifest in:
by the thousand count
worth of drones /
viewers...

yeah...
let's all just pretend that...
we're all going to
be "nice" people...
while the police do jack-****!
just 4 hours ago
i could have been
a security guard
in a supermarket...

what's stopping me?
the person
who has taken charge...
useless as a *******
sprinter contra
the snail in a Zeno episode
of "paradoxes"...

to be made accountable
of all the 8+ billion
lives in this world,
to become the spearhead
for a clinging sensation
of, hopefully,
individual vectors...
    to come across
the sight of Copernicus...

did you know that
us Polacks feel
grieved by...
having to succumb to
a history that states...
it was Galileo!
no... it was Copernicus!
Copernicus was
German!
   no... and the no continues...
the idiots fathom the laziness
of the intelligent...
which...
means nothing as quiete
as what it should mean:
don't use your elbows
to shove into a queue...

that's how i imagine
god...
somehow...
the last refrain from
calling on santa claus:
or satan's, clause...
to be fed so many
"delusions"
and be woken up with one...
i don't know...
            god is a word
per se, and a nature...
   something biased...
an autocrat...
a despot...
        what if what i want
is not what i will never
receive?
              
the islamic fetish for hair...
last time i checked,
my grandmother reacted
to finding a hair
in a soup,
like some Ascot bride would
react to finding a fly
in her champagne flute...
i always thought
that the most ******
aspect of a woman
was her hands...
so... no head-cover...
just gloves...
   hair... who made up
this... hair-erotica
of monotheism?!
             i am freaked-out!
why wouldn't i be?
who has to feed an *******
via an association
with...

             the monotheistic
fetish for... hiding the discovery
of keratin...
how about we
begin with... a woman's hands?

it's a mad mad world
and i'm not inclined
to quote a base of song lyrics
to encourage it with...

monotheistic erotica
         surrounding keratin...
involved in...
the aspect of the fair ***...
making aspect...
of long hair...

but what if i like... pixie girls...
girls with short hair?!
and what if i were
a mundane-rock stoner
who allowed himself
to suit dates,
rather than tattoos,
and subsequently forgot
the existence of barbers...
and pretended to long for...
          keratin curtains?

but this is not a win-win
scenario...
              this topic,
was not even brought up...
it vaguely surfaced...
        face-to-face...
i didn't see no more than
i did of a screaming
police officer...
shackled...
being arrested
in an alleyway
on a Friday night,
in the dark,
*******...
               saying:
i'm not getting up...
make me...
      in a country that also reads
into a crescendo of:
the easily taken bait...
   and...
if i were truly the Pilate,
i shouldn't have trouble
washing my hands
clean off the matter,
but my hands are tied...
   i still remember playing
video games...
i'm not cross-eyed!
   but no chance in hell
would the right hand perform
the inbuilt functions that
a left hand ought to do...
and likewise...
   so... a big ******* X...
schematic...
of being right-handed...
playing video games with
a keyboard in tow...
through to the late mid-00s...
arms crossed...

    the right hand doing what
the left hand was intended
to do...
while the left hand doing what
the right hand...
                                   X

age of empires...
or some other game...
one of those first person shooters...
doom, or quake...
or whatever it was...
hardly cross-eyed...
but sure as **** cross-hand...
  
                               X

no tunnel vision, no | |
           synchronißed swimming event
worth the olympics...
no flappers either side
of my eyes...

           as for all those who support
their freedom to blah blah along?
i just want to see them
pick up a pen...

       oh, i've seen Jordan B. Peterson
pick up the pen...
           it's great...
             it's like:
being woken to speak again!
any criticism of mine?
i hope it's subtle...

     meat-cleaver
and some of the plethora's worth
of a densist's attire in
slying open a:
painting of the healthy
bite...

        chisel! chime chime!
we have a winner!

writing... and those who
suppose so...
the end of death in
life being continued,
via:
a piece of writing,
discovered, posthumously,
20 years later...
or...
           the work of a wine...
connoisseur...
             yeah... had to ferment...
some drunk from
it immediately...
  some... years later...

like me...
current year? 2019...
i am mostly a necromancer...
meaning?
   i read from the worth of
the dead, being surrounded
by the motto:
don't forget that i too,
once lived...
   i can't forget that...
necromancy:
to read from the dead...
    well... like necrophilia...
but instead of *******
a dead body...
you read the mind
of a dead person...
                              simple...
i own a private library
and about two living authors'
worth of output...
i am, a necromancer...
no contemporary writing...
   i sometimes watch these
book review videos on youtube...
like... abookutopia...
right... the reader of a writer
who's still alive...
          my library?
               a ******* cemetary.

like: i ****... into a leather chair...
and pretend it's:      eau l'automne...

                fine wine...
something fermenting, obscure...
you will not find me reading
Dickens... having heard
the praise from England,
like you will not find me reading
Mickiewicz in Poland...

so... those taboos out of
the window...
        i tend to forget which
part of my body succumbs
the easiest
to being tickled.
Daan Jul 2020
Ik wou dat ik de visserskoning was
en elke vis kon vangen.
Ik wou dat ik kon lopen en pas
als anderen allang niet meer, m'n handdoek op moest hangen.

Kon ik maar wormen graven, verzamelen en verkopen,
was ik maar wereldkampioen in hopen.
Als ik kon zien in donker of glijden door de lucht,
gewoon slechts één talentje had, al was ik erdoor berucht,
dan zou ik eindelijk gelukkig zijn.

Van dat laatste is toch één ding waar
en neen het is niet dat van dat vliegen.
Ik ben de allerbeste
in mezelf beliegen.
achja, misschien in een volgend leven
Ruslan Nov 5
You need to go, my in the world.

Its you okay, then its my break,
You so begin, then to my skin.
Shuck go to break, its you okay,
Then to all me, then go so much.

You need of cos, go to the right,
Six months again, you can see sleep.
That to you go, my break again,
To much a know, ****** to you.

That my to break, its for to you,
Go mather ****, its okay you.
You understand, ******* to go,
Its motherland, my its for you.

No no yours break, its go to me,
You understand, ******* off you.
You for the boys, think you to need,
That begin, fatherland my.

Old you a spring, to go to much,
That you to go, understand you.
That you a clock, to go to you,
*** you again need it for you!!!

Yes its boys to you need forever to skin, thit's my begin.

This is my book, to the my screen
Its you okay, to much begin
That to you need, then to you go
That's you so much, in the to go
You understand, that to you need
Six months again , then to you go
That to you go, its you are sin
*** of you need, it's oh you then
That end to my break, you off you need
Thank to my much, fox news begin
Its you okay, then nice to you
*** my of spring , that  you oh know  
*** you a square, old neen to you
Then go to me, sen to you need
**** is my dear, thank you so lone
That off you spreak, that to my much
Thank you begin
05.11.2024

Then to you need for my breaking 💔, its alright to much born. That a begin.

You its the clock
It my the break
I love to me
you go so lone
its my begin
that is okay
that's what you
need
1981.02 September
09:00 am

«Tegerman»
«Mill» — from Tatar language.
05.11.2024 – 08:25 pm.
That a begin, all you a sleep
To so to much , fox news  the  speak
You go so  lone , in the its break
You so to you, off you the need

That you a square , fon to so much
You need to go , to old the spring
Thank you my friend, in the the go
End understand, you need off clock

Second to you, in the the room
I love  to me, in the begin
Fun to so much, that to you go
Its a to break, in the to me

You consperate, old mather ****
You so to go, understand me
Sen to you boy, off in the ship
All be be back, altogether

If you a need, thank you so much
That you a go, mather *****
You go to me, in the to right
Wake you so much, altogether

Then to you go, all don't a know
****** you square, altogether
Thit's all alright , you understand
******* my soul, altogether

Second to me, in the this break
I love you dead, altogether
Then in my sleep, you concerat
Six months to you, altogether

Then you my bye, ******* you go
To so to much , ****** breaking
It's you okay, then to so much
******* so lone, all be back you

Go to the right, ******* again
Sen to my break, all be back you
Six is months teen, **** of you go
To the to much, altogether

In the the sleep, you so begin
In the ******, you together
Came back to me, you go so lone
That you a spring, fax a you so

There's begin, all you the need
Fun to my break, all be back you
Six a month teens, go motherland
Old you to go, altogether

In understand, go to my break
You consperate, the break world
Its you okay, then in the sleep
You to the go, motherland your

******* the need, its you okay
Niya sinde ul bulgan ul
That you so much, all to you screen
Then in Tatar, all be back you

So to the much, go but to me
You can see sleep, to the gedo
In you begin, song its you go
To the to boy, all be back you

Funk you so much, all be begin
You can see sleep, all be back you
Funk you so lone, that is my break
Go to the **** of, together

Min vakytta, yazam kitup
Shul zamannary bulgan ul
Эта тетрадь, будет служить
Вашим потомкам и дедам

Верность храню, знаю секрет
Но я для бога закрытый
Он меня взял, вам предложил
Тема моя не раскрыта!!!
06.11.2024 – 00:44 am.
Daan Oct 28
Munt is de smaak van proper,
Schijn is de taal, het land en de loper.
Als zand, ruw, niet schuw van kruipen.
Vermijding jaagt me het lijf op de stuipen.

God, was ik maar en dan zou ik...
Juist niks.
Maar echt, ik zou...
Neen, niks.

In nederigheid leer ik geluk weer kennen,
In zinvol verval kan ik terug wennen
aan verandering, controle lossen,
zonder te vergeten, dagelijks te flossen.
En ik.

— The End —