Category: 2021 – Winter

I am the earth my mother walked on
The chalky snow on my young stripped shape
Her years of molding me
The shores of my memory, breaking like waves in the night

I am a body
Unknown scars, raw flesh, frozen bones
Legs that will turn to dust, hands that could hold the skies
I am a constant fading carcass, a peeling god
Made of oak and gold
My eyes are black stones in the long flood
Muster every muscle I must
To face the fear dwelling in my heart

I am a soul
That smells like rain and moves like smoke
The spirit of a herd of horses, the fervour of a crushing star
Violent, young, wild
It falls in the lands of the old stories
Where men fought death in the final red sunset

Image: © Muhammed Salah 

Author: Nadia Aden

I wish I could embrace the universe,

I wish I could feel his cold warmth,

I wish I could know all of his secrets,

But even if I can see him every night,

He’s always moving away from me every morning,

I think about him all the time,

His stunning eyes,

Sparkling like a billion of stars,

His smile, as colorful as nebulas,

His majestic body, as colossal as galaxies,

I wish we could just be together,

Our attraction is powerful as gravity,

But our love is constantly in expansion,

So we will never reach each other.

Image: ©️ “Naked Winter Trees” by Stanley Zimny (Thank You for 51 Million views) is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0. Source. 

Author: Valentin Jeanmonod

When anxious, don’t try to write alliterations: the sound of the pen on the page will not prove any pride.

Look at the sky every six hours, otherwise your eyes are worthless.

Don’t drink more than what knocks you off per day—or night—exception made for pregnant persons.

Look at the girl or at the boy next to you, fall in love with this person, then go back home and kiss your lover’s lips and fall in love again.

Think less about sex; more about texts.

Look at how sensual semicolons are.

Do follow some friend’s advice on fleeing fear. Then, the absurdity of life might lose its strong grip; smoke a Chest’–get some rest.

Smoke again, even though you really never should listen to written words…

However, you could try to write some words too, what about that train travel the other time:

“Great trees at great speed are gorgeous
I see through limbs the lighting sun
It shines and shadows enlighten
Our day whose closure is porous.”

Image: © Alicia Metcalf

Author: Alicia Metcalf

My Mum
used to cut apples in quarters
after school
when we were kids.
- it was the ground rule in order to eat chocolate biscuits.

My Mum had many ground rules
such as
-always telling the truth
(except when it is about hitchhiking during summer)
-always sing Abba songs out of tune
-never disturbing a mother who is reading

Now that I am older
I often think about these apple quarters
cut and shared with love

and I do myself cut them that way now
and I do hitchhike with strangers and lie to you about it
but I also give you books
and I write you poems

Images: © Sylvie Di Vito

Author: Sylvie Di Vito

That Other Place


How strange it is…
I don't recall 
Which was the path
To this strange place
I look around 
What could it be
A piece of hell? 
A piece of grace?

In here the sun 
Reflects the moons
And kites fly high 
Though there's no wind
Through gates once locked 
Now gaping doors
I watch the sages
become fools!

I have met people 
in this place
That I was most 
happy to see
For I'd have sworn
Hand on my heart
Long time ago
Had ceased to be 

Here Love and Fear 
Are King and Queen
And all their children 
All night long
Enjoy the game 
Of harlequin

How odd to lie
Where deceit rules
Where even killed 
I never die!

But O you dreamer 
Don't you see
How this mirror
-Secretly-
Distorted 
Every bit 
Of your 
Rea-
-li-
-ty?

Nature's Song

… And every day, we see her walk these ways;
A ghostly shade, despite the wind or rain…
She talks, she screams, she weeps and then she prays;
We, silent, hear her endless same refrain.
We do our best to calm her dreadful fears…
-Though, sadly, helpless feel- and this is why,
With tender leaves I catch her bitter tears
And with our heart we sing a lullaby.
As she, against me, leans through her despair,
The river swells her voice in gentle shush
The wind and I intone a joyful air:
Her pain by rustling branches try to hush
… And every day a smile we hope to see
Her sorrow yet too heavy seems to be…

Image: © H.S

Author: H.S

These poems were written nineteen-hundred years ago on the rocks, trees, and Temple walls of Switzerland’s Jura Mountain, then under Roman occupation.

The poet was Honest Shores, a pagan hermit who begged for food at temples, lectured in the streets and often sang and drank with goatherds in the forested mountains.

Little is known about his life, except that he lived in relative poverty, despite having an education. He might have lived for a time as a tutor in a middle-sized Roman city, as he seems to understand societal ills that assailed the Roman Empire, even during its Golden Age (Cf. “Pax Romana”). However, all of this is speculations taken from the poems themselves.

This new translation of his work, despite being incomplete (This collection only including twenty poems, even though some sources suggest he wrote a thousand) significantly revises and updates the poems for a modern audience. Be not shocked if you see references to modern technology and problems, as the translator took some liberties to adapt old roman references for more contemporary counterparts.

Although he was educated, Honest Shores was derided at the time for using colloquial and vulgar forms of Latin in his poems. This suggests that, although he derided morals of his time, he never took himself too seriously. Likewise, the translator used an idiom that is clear, graceful, and neutral enough to last nineteen-hundred years more.

1

I’m lifting my drink

“The ancient generations

Sowed and Reaped

Until the soil became acidic

Then, they pierced the crust

Extracting the blood

Until the caverns collapsed

Now they send cars into space

Burning metric tons of fuel

The worst is

They lived peacefully

Enjoying the fruits of their labour

But us? We will live to see

The Earth becoming Venus

And with the sky filled with blood and smoke

The ocean licking my mat

And the woods burning

I will receive a message

From my manager that says:

‘Damn that’s crazy… Can you come in though?

We’re short-staffed tonight.’

So here it is

To the UMURANGI Generation!

The generation

That has to watch the world die!”

2

A lone boar

Amongst the woods of Neuchâtel

His fur, dull enough

Attracts no hunters

But healthy enough

So he attracts mates

Compared to others

His stature is small

But he hides in the bushes so well

Never the fighter

He is rather weak

But his tusks are sharp

So others don’t bother fighting him

Living his whole life

Unremarkable, unnoticed

Only when he dies

One may see the jewel

That was inside him

3

The marionette

Wanted to be a real boy

Without realizing that

His incarnation

Would not cut his strings

Even if it did

He would not move anymore

4

Those who pray

Jesus, Mohammad, Buddha

From whence did they come?

Some say “God”

Others say “Dieu”

Others still

Say “Allah”

Those are only words

Vibrations of air

Written names

On blank sheets

Absent of meaning

They’re helpful without being useful

To think them useful

Is to consider

The pointing finger

As the moon

5

Empty woods, no one in sight

Yet hear! The jingle of bells

From deep… Over there!

Filtered by the trees

The slant rays

Shine once more

And the sheep

Bell on his collar

Looks – inquisitive –

At his grass

That became golden

6

So young yet

One of my friends is getting married

He asks me

“When will you marry?”

I ask him

“When will you divorce?”

We both laugh for a different reason

Him: Because I am behind

Me: Because he is in front!

7

My dream house

Has a room

Turned into a library

Hundreds of books on each shelf

An old leather chair

Plants! As numerous as books

The light of the evening

And the wind

Filtered by the evergreen forest

Thus I will travel

Without ever leaving home

8

I settle for a studio

Lone in the empty city

Like the tailor bird

Were it to have the whole grove

It would settle on a single branch

9

Alone on its branch

The crow sings

Watching the people

The cold wind:

The only one who caresses him

10

The hermit drops by

Bringing drunkenness

At the same instant

That the welcomed notifications

Make the dusk for two

An evening for ten!

11

In the deep forest

An Oak sings

In the wind

But solitary

No one hears his song

12

Under the willows

Of the lake

A beautiful rock

Perfect for building

A palace

A temple

Or a hut

Forsaken by all

Caressed by the waves

At least it shelters mice

13

From below

The canopy seems ablaze

The autumn sunset

Makes redheads of us all

14

Without an effort

The duckling

Let itself go up and down

With the movement of the waves

15

To each tool its usefulness

The Lamborghini

Cannot park

Where the lil’ Twingo

Simply can

16

Wanting everything 

Doing everything

Experimenting

By experiencing all things

Zip gets done

A wave when it breaks

Added nothing to the sea

17

“Learn to code”

“When will you get your license?”

“Put some money on the side”

“Learn a new language”

“Take care of your mental health”

“Take care of your body’s health”

It is hard to make a ball

With dry sand

18

Reap the day!

Savour the instant!

Carped Diem!

If you only think about reaping

You’ll forget to sow

And end up with a wasteland

19

If you chase

Money, followers, wisdom

By gesticulating wildly

You’ll exhaust yourself

But see how

The branch most idle

Is the seat of many birds

20

In your library

You should have:

No Bible

No Qur’an

No Sutras

Rather than this poppycock

You’re much better off with my poems

Feel free to flash them up on your screen

And read them from time to time

Image: ©️ Myriams-Fotos – Pixabay License. Source.

Author: Guillaume Amstutz

Your brightness leaves me awestruck

Overt charm against bad luck

Upheaval found in wonder

Magic that mutes the thunder

Amazement born from great light

Kindness adorns all you write

Every drop of reverence

Instilled by your luminance

Tints the world with solar gleams

Blesses it with graceful beams

Evergreen inspiration

Throws me in admiration 

Trusted poetess you should know

Earth herself with her faint glow

Relies on you to make it grow

Image: ©️ Andres Stadelmann

Author: Andres Stadelmann

Shampoo

I spent several hours looking at that door
In silence
My mind racing in every direction, but my body still.
Waiting, hoping
It cried out to the silence, begging it to respond
Instead it lingered, there, by the door
An old memory of a long-forgotten friend
The door responded in its stead
Alive—it shook and cracked and gaped its wide and loud mouth
Whispering, slow at first, then whistling ever louder until its scream, cut
   by the sudden grasp of the
handle, rang my eardrums.
The intruder, not yet half a man, wore that kind of awkward expression
   meant to display a weak show of
embarrassment all while betraying the narcissistic pride lying
   underneath
The decisive ones were the ones who played with the silence
Those that opened and closed the door
Those who let it rattle unabated, begging for attention
Without knowing, me, sitting alone in that silence was the biggest
   offering I could have made
The silence meant everything all of a sudden.
And I, as a part of it, took greater meaning as well
There was no greater way of loving her, than sitting alone in that
   silence
And so it would take off,
whispering tentatively to the floorboards,
swaying gently in the rafters,
leaning by the entrance,
and I with it, transfixed, and yet in constant motion
There are those who go to the batting cage and crack their bats until
   the silence overtakes them all, and
there are those who cower in fear in the company of endless and
   mindless chatter
But the silence persists nonetheless, molded by your heart in its barely
   motionless chambers
It’s so loud you can hear it, pounding in your ears and extending to they
   very end of all your extremities
It’s so soft that to hear it you have to listen very carefully
To truly hear it
In that silence I cried.
Silent teardrops filled with noise
That rolled off my face into the awaited abyss.
And as my still body began to move
It called out my name

Tío

Oh Dani did I cry for you
Such eyes I had not seen

Memory does strange things to time
Of that blurred still when you attempted to cross the world in an instant
   on your broom (you must miss
hurting your knees now)
Sportive drive pick-ups
A crack in exchange for a smile
The virgin hairs on your cheekbones
But your final words
Impressed
Seem a lifetime away
I look at my garden
Grown over with weeds
And I’m aching with that loss
To put dirt on my hands
Of toiling to cultivate, bleeding and sore
With a seed of trust
Some good to invest
And you’re still running on that beach

If only I could fill pages
As quickly as I spilt tears

C’è

Anna you were beautiful
Like everything on that day
And you made that greeting, to me
And that smile
And your profile picture
That day I realized that you don’t go to a wedding alone as a bride,
   for the groom
But as a friend, daughter, sister, sister-in-law, aunt, niece, child, woman
And all this was true
For that secure hand
For those enchanted voices
And for the gaze of the one who stood beside you
It would be trite to call it love
Almost reductive
But for a glance
That outside in that stable someone cultivated for the first time
Yesterday you witnessed
And today
I expect nothing else

Lucie

Remember when I said I was alone?
That happened again today
And when I was sitting there,
Just looking at my screen
I thought

When I consider that
A million miles away
Someone visiting a foreign country
Reminiscing about long lost friends
I find myself on a train
Looking out the window

A memory of some time
Passed with people
Whose names and faces I recollect
But who was I?
And why should I recall?

When not thinking
But only feeling
That one beat
Calls my name

I wait

And close my eyes
Or perhaps I close my eyes and wait

But regardless


I go back to sleep

Image: ©️ Manuel Ferrazzo

Author: Manuel Ferrazzo

My pain loves me more than you ever will,
She understands me like nobody else,
And when my blood drips for her she pales,
She knows that, for her, my hands could just kill.

She cuts my chest open to rip my heart,
Out of the hole which now stands here empty.
I can’t feel anything so I am free,
Hope ends where with undying love I start.

I wouldn’t want her to be my enemy,
I want her to be less scared of me,
I want her to understand and witness.

Witness my shame and my sorrow for her,
She will finally see me in her fur,
And decay shall be voice of weakness.

Image: ©️ rkarkowski – Pixabay License. Source.

Author: Marina Silietti

I saw the sun the other night 

I didn’t think we’d meet again 

I assumed it was far away 

Far away from me 

For a second 

I believed I’d feel it again 

The wide stream of emotions 

But I didn’t 

Instead

I felt a relief 

Seemed like heaven 

Until I understood that the stream 

Reached the moon 

Fading at its finest 

Breathing at its brightest 

I dreamed about the moon that night 

Until the dawn came back 

And I thought about the moon that day 

The stream was complete 

And I couldn’t escape its curves 

Even if I wanted to 

The moon and the sun belonged to somebody else 

I couldn’t see their light beams 

They were far away 

Far away from me 

Clear Graveyard! Give me a break!

Take me away 

And let me face the bliss 

The infinity 

The immortality 

Far away from their volcanoes

Finite and deadly volcanoes 

Clear Graveyard! Walk away! 

Take me home 

Back to where I belong 

Turn me into 

Your dissolving dust 

Back into what I am 

Nothing!