Tag: Creative Writing – Poetry

Categories
2021 - Spring

A poem

Image: ‘Suburban Streets‘ © Felix the Cat.  Licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Author: Arthur Margot

Crossed with us she shouted and boomed and raised

Her voice, throughout the household heard,

Intonations soon dismissed by ears,

Livid, she thought to chase us all

Down the flight of stairs and

Hoping to catch any,

Out the door and

Of her grasp

Did we escape,

Realising nothing could

Usurp the freedom once tasted and

Left unchecked of fleeing from a mother’s hold,

Easily slipped, scampered, dodged, bolted, vanished,

Soon to hear the distant yells echo fainter and fainter.

Categories
2021 - Spring

Time’s Prickly Thorns

Image: Ⓒ Roxane Kokka

 

Author: Roxane Kokka

 

I cry out your name

In the ocean of silence

 

Never do I stop searching

In the bright sky of dark stars

 

I reach out my hand in the void of the unknown

Through Time’s prickly thorns that never cease

to creep in the empty spaces between us

 

in hope to catch yours

 

Time will take you away from my arms, eyes, ears, and mouth

But Time will fail to erase the memory of your lips and body against mine

Categories
2021 - Spring

My guinea pig died last Friday.

Image: © M. S.

Author: M. S.

I cried when I heard the news.
I cried because I loved my guinea pig.
I cried because nothing lasts forever,
               Even having you with me.
I cried because I’m tired,
               Tired of not being enough.
I cried because nothing really matters,
               Even when I’m with you.
I cried because you don’t love me enough,
               Enough to make me feel special.
I cried because I felt sad.
I cried because I cried.

And also, because
               My guinea pig died last Friday.

Categories
2021 - Spring

Leaving

Author: Anonymous

When a fox is trapped
This is a known fact, you know
About foxes, people know this
People know these things about foxes
People think they know many things about foxes
But really nobody knows the important thing about foxes
Nobody knows the really important thing about foxes, which is
The really important thing about foxes is that for them, for all wild things
the squirrels and badgers and teenage girls, the boars and martens and cats
Pain isn’t something they could ever do, not to themselves
Pain is a natural event, pain is like a storm which passes
Or doesn’t pass, a storm which continues on and on
They don’t create pain, they don’t shape it
It shapes them, so when the fox
When the fox is trapped
And it gnaws off
Its own leg
And we
Marvel
At its
bra
ve
ry
And
Its
Sac
ri
fice
We are doing
everything
but understanding it.

 

March 2021

Categories
2021 - Spring

Atlas Suite

Image: @ Timon Musy

Author: Timon Musy

¤

The ground is flat and dusty,
The owl sings and wonders
Why it is on the moon.
The masks float,
Above the mangrove the candles burn
And no one asks
Why trees would grow on the moon.

On the moon,
There is a telescope.
And with this telescope
We can see the moon.
No one looks at it though,
We only long for magic.
And why would we look at it,
Since there are trees on the moon?

¤ ¤

Two young girls are kissing
In the nebula
Behind the house

The old lady finds
In her bed
Again
Love.

A supernova, somewhere,
Deep in the blackness of space
Consumes itself
Alone.
Nothing’s left,
Yet it existed.

¤ ¤ ¤

The neon light above the door saturates
The coffee machine
The air
The tables
Eyes open the man sleeps against the window.
A drunken and empty cosmonaut suit.
The ground is flat and dusty.

Categories
2021 - Spring

The Veiled Love

Image: “The Achilles Heel” © texmex5. Licensed under CC BY 2.0

Author: Mond

Achilles and I –
Somewhere under the keen curtains
The secret whisper of Chiron,
Early with the moon,
Raised against the synthetic rain –
Over the stars the kiss is lost,
Is screaming for lips –
Doors of other realities

Unveiled! I kill his imagination
Nail the wrong painting and framed his weak heel!
Those are sheets without a bed, asleep. A
Renaissance without Shakespeare or Titian!
Undress the feelings and consume the flesh;
Skeletons, alive! Killers of reason!
The same enemies, other centuries.

Categories
2021 - Spring

Guillaume’s poems

Image: “Ciel orageux” © Pixabay – Licence

Author: Guillaume Amstutz

 

Promises

 

Didn’t you love the things we shared

Above the clouds, nothing was heard

But when you write in this manner

I see your eyes as they flutter

 

Beyond that veil of sewed words

I hear your voice, its mellow chords

And the darkness that it lightens

My loneliness, it untightens

 

Your promises, glowing in white

They shine gently, in the moonlight

A dimming hue, a falling dew

The distance grew, it’s what you do

 

Soon our vision will be so blurred

Our moment endlessly deferred

Holding on, I had some hopes

Climbing on slippery slopes

 

Clinging to mirrors of sorrow

All shimmering in my marrow

Quietly fade but never go

Your images, darkened snow

Nowhere to run from your claws

Grasping softly, lenient jaws

 

Promises of love, covered in black

Until you dissolve, and turn your back

I believed the tales in tinted glass

Their broken shards spilled on the grass

 

Armor

 

I’m not wary I’m just cautious

And sometimes I’m a bit tenacious

About the things I should let go

I often cling to what I saw

 

I’m stuck in this armor I wear

Hardened shell nothing could tear

It protects me from what I fear

But my frights are slumbering near

 

Scarred steel on rusty skin

Scared still in this quiet din

Burned mail on bleeding hands

Waiting for the falling sands

 

Creaking, seeking shelter

Kicking, flicking weather

Slicking to restore the glimmer

Shrieking when the light gets dimmer

 

A Battle Chant 

 

At dusk, the battlefield was painted red

Banners were torn, flying away

Countless men, on their deathbed

Dark fell down, with the horses’ neigh

Ending the pain with black hooves

Final light fade, the sun moves

Gazing at the plain, covered by haze

Horses who strayed, parting their ways

Inside the ground, its bones are brittle

Jarred by war, as violence whittle

Killing in the name of false gods

Listening always, he applauds

Money is the love they pursue

Nothing ever could quench their thirst

Outside of the blood and the hue

Praying for some gold, they are cursed

Quivering in fear, holding their spear

Riding out of greed, red they smear

Swords out and feral, they charge on

The lord could help us, but he is gone

Uttering softly why he left us

Vices in disguise it’s treacherous

Why keep fighting throughout the years

Xylophones of angels won’t reach our ears

Yearning for solace victory won’t give

Zenith over the dust, it’s the last we’ll live

 

Mindless

 

Shadows wandering in your mind

Mind your steps in this cursed land

Land your feet on the cold stones

Tones echoing in a far place

Lace your fingers in the spoiled soil

Soiled your soul with their grim smiles

Miles away lays your lost hope

Hoping one day the sun will rise

 

Rise again, your eyes still dark

Using your sadness as your bark

Thought the hell wasn’t so low

Thought the pain would never go

 

Gone away out of your mind

Mindless steps in this cursed space

Pace your heart, the night is long

Longing for the day to emerge

Merge your endless pain with mine

Mindless days and mindless nights

I’ll hold you until the sun arises

Categories
2020 - Winter

Prose poems ❧

Image: © Lara Lambelet

Author: Lara Lambelet

Her scent

My senses covet the scent of her breasts.

They are now faintly dampened by my tears.

A hindrance to my unwholesome desire, the pungent wreath tantalizes my soul.

 

Obedient

People are sad in the metro.

Tinted in blue, white, sold in lots.

Vague and wandering looks;

don’t predict anything good.

Words bang and choke behind the fabric.

This is the new gregarious instinct; a muzzle for the individual.

It veils the softness of a smile brought to a child;

disarmed in the masked procession of obedient beings.

Categories
2020 - Winter

Bumblebee

Image: © Timon Musy

Author: Timon Musy

Bumblebee

A seventeen-legged bug floats on coffee
The bartender is sleeping, high on bicarbonate
Not seeing the peeping moths on the neon light
Calm and breezy

– He did not wake up yet

The pie crust tastes vaguely familiar
Old waste oil and engine coolant, honey and salt
Graphite on the table
Noisy
Neighbours

– He did not wake up yet, he took the left road

I do not talk
The coffee drips through a crack in the wall
And agglutinates in a six-feet deep black pool
A fish could smoke a menthol cigarette
Spit on a fly
Buy a scratch ticket
Everyone left. The ceiling looks at me
I’m blind

– You’re all I need

I feel like a dog trapped in my car
Not sure whether the engine works or not, did not try
Don’t know where I left my key
In the middle of the road
Just woke up
Not hungry
Tired

– All I need

I do not miss her
We never met
Maybe she never existed

Categories
2020 - Winter

Quarantine Overture

Image: © Giulia Asselta.

Author: A S

Embrace

Soft shivers delayed

Teeming tears kept at bay

By a long-forgotten memory of warmth. 

A spark not-indifferent

Born of hope and fulfillment

Which have gathered in dust from eons ago.

Sifting and trembling

Those arms lifted daintily

Crushing and calming the silent recluse.

Quiet embers of a past

Lit ablaze by torrential gasps

A reminder of what it means to sleep.

 

Melody II

That shivering sky

Emitting no reason

Wavers unflinching 

to the beat of a heart.

As if were reflected

A tune of inflection

Crying and screaming 

and pulling apart.

But where there is healing

Conceal not your breathing

And stumbling, carefully

Stride into the dark.

 

(Nude)

In the midst of your waking dreams

Three whispers stop by, each begging

To listen. The first caressing and cooing

The second tickling and tingling

While the last, stares at you in silence.

And peeking you crouch below

Reaching for strands thin as noise

Those things which you wear on your shoulders

And on your head. Yet you shiver

And suddenly straighten, brushing those short strands

aside, while your gaze stops to grasp the moon.

And crawling, your heart clutches

at the whispers, calling to scream

among them. 

 

Stanza

Listen. 

On the ramparts of my heart the trumpets are blowing

Not for victory but rather, a cry for truth.

As ragged and tired men go home and weep

For loss of understanding that they do seek

Belated tears fill sorry eyes

and drop.

to endless sighs

But a promise of song lifts their hearts and their eyes

Listen

It’s there.

Brimming with tremor,

Booming in Upheaval

And beating

Can you hear the rain?

Categories
2020 - Winter

Poems by Kimberley Perrenoud

Author: Kimberley Perrenoud

A Strange Autumn

Usually

When I see the sun, I go out for some fun

When I see the rain, I stay inside and fill my brain

When there is thunder, I start using a highlighter

And when the weather is cloudy, I feel like writing poetry

When arrives the second lockdown

We all have a reason to feel down

But I will lie down on the lawn

And look at the stars all alone

Maybe till dawn

Stormy Sky
Stormy Sky – ©️Kimberley Perrenoud

 

Tough Time

At the moment Life is hard

But not so much

When you are lucky enough

To have a yard

Listen to the birds outside your window

Try not to be overwhelmed by sorrow

Have a look! Somewhere might appear a rainbow

Which will lift up your spirits, I know

Waterfall
Waterfall -©️Kimberley Perrenoud

 

One for All and All for One

We are having online courses – To alleviate the work of nurses

As a community we should be stronger than ever

But instead of struggling together – It turned out that people don’t care about one another

While people are dying from that virus every day – Nobody in the streets seems to care today

All people do is complain about the new sanitary measure – They don’t understand that these rules were not made for pleasure

But that we need to follow the rules today – If tomorrow we want to be able to say

“The pandemic is now behind us! – It is no longer risky to take the bus!

We survived as a community – We have not let down the elderly

Nor all the young, and so-called ‘healthy’ – Who could also have died in our country

We took the matter seriously – And we can, once again, be happy!”

It is today that efforts should be made – If tomorrow we want this crisis to fade

 

Every single person in this country has to make a sacrifice – Because as we saw the rules don’t suffice

Be careful now more than ever – If you want all of this to be over

If you want to see your favorite festivals again – Please, please now use your brain

And understand that if today you don’t care – You are going to send your grandma to the intensive care

Or maybe your asthmatic friend – Or maybe your healthy boy/girlfriend

Remember that you are only a human – An ordinary woman or man, not Superman or Wonder Woman

And that the virus kills as it pleases

 

So now do your bit for your neighbor – For your grandparents, your cousins and many more

‘cause who you infect on Monday – Can infect your brother on Friday

There is nothing magical that will save us – If you continue to let spread the virus

Half of the population is not enough – To stop this dangerous cough

If tonight you don’t listen up – If you don’t act as a grown-up

Please please you all know someone – Who could die from it and maybe not only one

So wake up immediately – And start acting responsibly

For no one can resurrect your sister

When she will have to suffer the consequences of you, DANGER !

Love tag
Love tag -©️Kimberley Perrenoud

 

Categories
2020 - Spring

The Marsh House

Image: Mist 194/366 by Blue Square Thing on Flickr, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Author: Laure Cepl

The Marsh House

 

I

Nineteen-thirty, the year she felt the breeze

Caressing her pale porcelain face. Blushing

In the dimming daylight of New Year’s freeze,

Her cheeks are covered by a wrinkled skin.

 

Time streaked it like thunderbolts, frail, outstretched.

Samhain’s sun sets over her glazed eyes.

With a crescent of violets, they’re decked.

Weary eyelids quiver to the twilight skies.

 

The forgotten Dame of the Marshlands,

Who was left to sink into oblivion.

She gives me a smile as I shake her hand,

And squeaks a “Bienvenue à la maison”.

 

 

II

 

The burgundy tapestries feel so warm,

The old wood scent tickles my nostrils, while

I sit on the dusty chesterfield. White

Laced threads above my head – spectral textile.

 

My host asks the grand maestro, Petrof –

Dear old friend of mine, forgotten but missed,

To sing me tales of men who fell in love

With the Moon. Nostalgia, who my soul kissed.

 

I find myself dancing in her embrace,

While she lulls me to sleep in her nightgown.

“Remember…Remember, I was the face

Who rocked you when no one was around.”

 

Black widows in the shadows join the waltz,

They swing on the chandeliers as we dance

Languidly to the sound of the The Kiss Waltz

Drunk with Shalimar, exotic fragrance.

 

Hair on her shoulders, like flames flickering,

Red velvet petals brush my neck saying

Bewitching words, casting spells, whispering

“Bring your lips close to mine while we’re swaying”

 

A silky curtain softly veils my eyes.

Hypnotized, my senses forget slowly

As the music fades and the fire dies

The chimney’s shadow rising behind me.

 

 

III

 

But once the night falls, the marble, icy

Chills my feet and turns them into grey stones.

In the growing darkness, I start to see

Unfamiliar figures, all skin and bones.

 

Oh horror! Oh, their ghastly glance, tarnished!

Rags hanging on their limbs, wearing grim grins,

Silent creatures, staring at me, famished,

while I shiver against the cold dead skin!

 

Out of their frames, the ghostly shadows crawl

Across the halls, echo bellows of woe,

Opened jaws, scratched walls, watch them scrawl.

Cold tears of sorrow roll down the windows.

 

Seven ghoulish foes dancing around me

Putting curses and stamping on the ground

Macabre ritual! They torment me!

“Come with us”, they say, “to the Underground!”

 

I break the circle and fall on the floor

“Let me out! Let me out!”  I implore

She moans and groans as she shuts the door –

“Stay in my company, forevermore!”

 

Hear her mourn! Lonesome soul, she grew cold!

Vanished, they have all spirited away.

Plagued by dreadful grief like a dark foul mould,

The Dame of the Marshlands dwells in decay!

 

Daughter, Sister, Mother and Grandmother.

She is haunted by the absence of some

Who once loved her enough to call her

“Home”.

 

Categories
2020 - Spring

Poems by Lara Lambelet

Images: © Lara Lambelet.

Author: Lara Lambelet

Poems and short notes

Your bombastic way of showing off love made me giggle. I could not properly gage thy truth and had to shed my salty prejudices.
♥
Wrapped in ivy, the intricacy of your heart pinched my lips.
♥
I knew he loved me the moment he started looking at me so intensely with a soft smile and a deep silence that meant everything.
♥
On the verge of joyfully exploding in a rain of sensations, let us live our absconding love.
♥
Let me taste your lips as if they were my ultimate and everlasting meal.
♥
We are endless books whose blank pages to blacken are added day after day in the libraries of our lives.
♥
I gasped deeply, consumed by the sparkling feeling spreading inside me, as our sights met each other.
♥
I cannot resent you for falling in love with me.
I wouldn’t blame myself for letting you steal my heart, either.

Photograph of sand dunes, with 2 silhouettes in the distance and the sea visible at the horizon.
To my darling

To my darling

I don’t know if your thoughts sometimes move slowly towards me, if your heart is in love with the same overflowing feeling as before, but I know that you will always be a person who has turned my life upside down and taught me what love is.

Should I?

Should one let oneself fall prey to love?
❤️
Isn’t it a genuinely perilous attempt?
❤️
I suspect I’m not alone in believing the answer is no.
❤️
An underrated emotion which has overwhelmed more than one.
❤️
“I love you”, these misused words which frightened the best of us, have been endlessly and secretly whispered.
❤️
From whom could I steal the credit for teaching me how to truly love?

Categories
2020 - Spring

Drops of Spinsterhood

Image: © CDL

Author: CDL

 

Drops of Spinsterhood

  

 

In our pond I float.

Sick of my condensed perfume,

time to leave this tepid room.

 

You boiled, remember,

dreamt about our infusion

until, encouraged

by my ‘whole leaf’ pretension,

I danced out of your pink water.

 

Again, why did I think

that the half-full cup you’d kept

was cold without tea?

I dived back in. While I slept,

you spat us into the sink.

 

On the table (cherry wood)

now crawl sodden leaves who would

rather dry than rot.

 

 

CDL

 

Categories
2020 - Spring

Seamus Heaney’s Poem ‘Höfn’ Translated by Céline Naito

Image © Céline Naito

Author: Céline Naito

Höfn

Le glacier aux trois langues entame sa fonte.
Que ferons nous, disent-ils, quand la roche, en laite,
Viendra se lover à travers les plaines du delta

Et que les séracs insondables s’avanceront ?
Coincée, encastrée dans le roc, je l’ai vue de l’avion,
Peau de terre mort-vivante, grise et rompue, antique misère,

J’ai eu peur de sa froideur qui semblait encore suffire
Pour geler d’un bloc le hublot blanchi de respiration,
Figer le sol dans son implacable infiltration

Et chaque mot de bouche en bouche, alléchant, chaud et bon.

 

Höfn by Seamus Heaney

The three-tongued glacier has begun to melt.
What will we do, they ask, when boulder-milt
Comes wallowing across the delta flats

And the miles-deep shag-ice makes its move?

Seamus Heaney, District and Circle, Faber and Faber, 2006, p. 53.

 

Due to copyright laws, we cannot publish more than four lines of the original poem. The complete text can be found here.