Tag: Creative Writing – Poetry

Trees

Author: Lucrezia Ferraù

You let my head go

And trees of intrusive thoughts

Were building up inside

I felt alone,

I was alone

For the first time,

Since I met you

Since you chose me…

___These trees were tall

______And they were growing incredibly fast,

_________As fast as thoughts could go.

____________They were beautiful and green

_______________They were a creation of my dream

___________________They were helping through sensation,

________________________They were cause of my agitation.

___________________Anxiety was building up

_______________And I couldn’t wake up

____________But was I asleep ?

_________I think we’ll never know

_____I am just lost with my thoughts now

___But at least…I am not alone.

War

Author: Lucrezia Ferraù & Nadiia Kulish

I don’t like uncertainty
But,
After the war,
I come to terms with the idea
That things can change
And that,
We cannot control…
Everything,
Anything.                                                              

Things are falling on our heads,

In our hands,

Red and swollen

In our sky,

Gray and heavy

Full of particles,

Of what a time we called LIFE.

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A brief explanation of the two poems:

Trees is a poem about the intrusive thoughts that invade the mind of overthinkers and neurodivergent people, that develop thoughts in a tree-like structure (= arboressence) and about how overwhelming it can be.

War is a poem centered on the topic of the ongoing war in Ukraine. Made with the collaboration of Nadiia, Ukrainian student and refugee.

Author:  C.Z.

Ô sing, Melpomen’,

The life of my dearest kin,

As I stand alone in this arena, bitter,

Reminiscing this fateful day that took my sister.

We were raised by the brightest of scholars,

And the most ferocious of warriors,

On the shores of this lake that is your mother’s spring,

While dreaming of flying on Nike’s wing.

Your eyes were sharp as an eagle’s,

Your step moved swiftly as a horse,

Your arrows always found their target,

And there wasn’t a single trick you forgot.

You inspired me by your feats and strength,

You taught me resilience and patience,

Perfecting my strategies, forging my courage,

And like you I wished to master the war’s adage.

As sisters we claimed each other,

Even without sharing a mother nor a father,

We rode as one into battle to tear the frontlines,

You, daughter of the waters, me, daughter of the skies.

My greatest asset is my mind, you told me,

When I doubted my place in this infinity,

Yet my brain cannot comprehend,

This cruel play cut by Atropos’ hand.

I should’ve been the voice of reason,

Able to reign the horse of passion,

Without letting a chance for pride to settle,

And send me against you to battle.

What started it was so trivial,

I cannot remember in my denial,

Instead, it is the anger, the frustration,

The treachery of vindication.

It is my judgement changed by the allure of greatness,

The sweet taste on my tongue of self-righteousness,

My heart refusing again to agree,

While my wisdom faulted me.

I want to remember the laughs, the memories,

The games and hopes while wishing for the centuries,

We could have spent growing and triumphing,

But all is tainted by this unacceptable ending.

We clashed on these forsaken grounds,

Spears shattering against clubs,

Swords performing a lethal dance,

As Eris’ seized her chance.

Should I blame my father for overstepping,

As he brandished against you the shield all are fearing,

Or only myself, my hubris, my shameful part

While my own blade pierced your heart?

Now my weapons feel too heavy on my side,

Forever stained by your blood,

And while you cross the river of oaths,

I rage, I mourn, I cannot not go forth.

This gift of a life without end,

Given by my golden blood,

Without you is now cursed,

Oh, how I wish things could be reversed,

No matter if I can craft the greatest of all statues,

No matter my lamentations of lost values,

No matter I make my punishment always more tough.

It’ll never be justice enough.

But they shall remember you as my dearest family,

I’ll carry on your name and memory,

Until this world reach its omega,

It’ll always be Pallas,

Author: MW

Four horsemen astride their mounts walk gently on
tarmac roads, that cage the noble old tenements
their crumbling faces and dirtied windows silent
long since, emptied tram lines, strange witnesses
to the funeral march.

Long dead trees line the avenues the horsemen thought
to triumph down, their work like Roman generals
bringing swathes of the wretched to heel.

Like those they were not to find, they must instead
wander empty cities, pick between barren fields
their vain search for souls, like so many
failed harvests, and blighted crops.

After the dismal party who came
not to inherit the earth, buried in the soil
and nesting in the tree-corpses lay in wait
mushrooms, bees and worms.

Long after the horsemen left, and put their folly down,
strange new flowers grew, with sunlight for their crown.

Author: MW

[Content Warning: gore, mild body horror]

Will you be my surgeon? The knife wielder,
He-who-will-cure-by-cutting.
I would excise me too.

If the scalpel goes deep enough,
Through layers of skin and fat and muscle
Will you find it? The heart-sickness
The Great Abscess, the wrong thing.

My mother promised me it would never be my soul
But I think she promised wrong,
for there are poisons in me deeper than you can conceive,
fast acting, life rending.

You cannot bring them out of me without killing your self,
For they move from the one to the other,
and to touch them is to become them.

How will you tell, what is worms and what is guts?
hands slick between sinews,
One slip, one nick,
down goes baby, cradle and all.

Let us be what you made we,
But you must hold the scalpel.
Let us be what we made me
We’ll fall, we’ll fall, we’ll fall.

Author: MW

Through mists and fen and moor
He, gloom shrouded, roams.
Low grasses breathing out
Water so dense you could
Nearly swim through it
Do not hinder his long-legged stride.

This is his place
And you are not welcome
Wanderer.

Drenched as you are,
Haunted by this moonless night,
Where shine only his strange eyes.

You have come, seeking his head.
Wanderer,
You have come to spill his blood,
Wanderer,
With your damascened blade
And your well-greased shoes.

The heath has no use
For your castle-bred wealth,
Nor your thief’s gold, nor your hallowed halls,
Wanderer.
You should not have come,
Wanderer.

But stay a while longer,
Where the marches meet the mists
Your fire-warmed halls
Will not miss you,
While he uses your knife as a toothpick
Worrying at threads of leather
Caught still on his many small sharp teeth.

And you will wander evermore
Upon the fog filled fen
A shade shot through with
An uncanny glow
Glinting blood-soaked red.

Author: William Flores

Atchoom! With the start of Spring
My allergies start to ring
And yet I rejoice, for not before long
We shall embrace
Of that I am sure, it cannot go wrong
At our designated place

Atchoom! As Helios grows stronger
Zoom! Is our place no longer
Powered by electric spark
I’ll come home to continue our arc
Baby, your arms are my safe port
To be with you feels like a resort

Sunscreen we shall apply
And make love until we die