Categories
2021 - Winter

FRAME: SEVEN ABSTRACT SONNETS

Author: Victor Joyet

I.

I am the end of everyone  the last man 
It doesn’t matter if it now comes to an 
end It’s good for everyone to be dead 
sometimes      good to be alive    again 
I will dance on the wire and people will 
be amazed I’ll crosswalk the air and the 
light dance on the wire until I die and 
dance on the wire one more time 

                    I shall smoke the last cigarette 
butt       inhale the last breath of poison 
look around the hexagram of the heaven 
close my eyes and let the sun shine red 
behind 
                    one last time


II.  

                                                            Nonday morning 
                   Smoke on the verge of eternity 
Alone in 
                      the dead-end street world 
Every day and every year the same stuff on TV 
The Internet is choke-full of brags and misery 
And I just don’t care 
I don’t wanna spend the night on air 
Ruminating that avant-garde cinema dream 
I keep thinking                                there is 
no music on a dead plane 
“I used to blackmail the night just to get some 
sleep” was what you used to say 
But you ended up talking to yourself


III.

Words to be thought words to be said words 
to be sung and words to whisper God’s 
language is still to be found fashioned and 
heard down there on Earth down there on the 
ground there is no church and no temple down 
there on Earth down there on the ground 
bone machines and articulated minds 
mortal spirits without any idea of time 

Down there on Earth down there on the ground 
for the first time shall I tread 
Crossing my arms I’m facing the man 
This is the only prayer I mean to utter 
This’ll be the only time 
                                                      I look into your eyes


IV.

I used to walk around so much I used to go 
nowhere at all I grew aimless and shameless 
Soared over the ocean and through the rain 
My senses sharpened the distance between 
the world and my eye narrowed seeing and 
being became one single gesture and losing 
my gaze into the above skyway whenever I 
saw a star I’d wonder if it were dead or alive 
I’d wandered and wandered got so stinky and 
so filthy and so soiled that when I looked into 
the mirror I saw a man I’d never seen in me 
Lost      absorbed                           life-washed 
              That was just another me 
            I didn’t know then but I’d started anew


V.

As open skies we moved………………………...
From a wing to another…………………………..
Skull and limbs all exposed…………………….
We needed nothing………………………………...
Bareheaded and free……………………………...
…We needed nothing……………………………...
…Toward eternity…………………………………....
………………………………………………...……………....
………………………………………………...……………....
………………………………………………...……………....
………………………………………………...……………....
………………………………………………...……………....
………………………………………………...……………....
………………………………………………...……………....


VI.

Behold the fireflies of the mind in pieces all the 
colors of thoughts in motion across the scenery 
of the allegorical meaning of yourself the crazy 
geography of heaven’s truthful sin 
These are roads painted on the canals of your 
vanishing body the idle image of a world gone 
mad roads that’ll take you into your own country 
where seasons and hours are landscaped into the 
mirror of your self 
                                              Now the silence will shatter 
from the sounds inside your brain this is the birth 
of the eighth day 
                                         Thusness widespread on the 
planispheric memory of a day forever forgotten


VII.

When will I be taken away? How will I be taken 
away from it all? What for a manner is to draw 
someone away like that from their friends family 
cats books clothes and whatsoever that holds 
together the pieces of one’s very own private self 
without any warning just like that gone as a dart 
through the classroom of time? 

Suddenly I feel so afraid when I think of death 
22 only yet I feel so old when surreptitiously 
I grow conscious of my own mortality 
22 still alive When will I trespass? When will I 
meet my other self? 22 still alive thinking of my 
friends wondering who’ll be the first one to die 
the first we’ll have to cry our hearts out for





Editor’s Note: Associated Artwork

Below you may find a list of artwork which this piece’s author associated with each sonnet. As some were protected under copyright, they were not included directly on this page. However, you may refer to the following links as you read the sonnets:

I.
Mark Rothko, Orange and Yellow, 1956, 232.4 x 181.3 cm, Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, New York: Orange and Yellow, 1956 – Mark Rothko – WikiArt.org

II.
Franz Kline, Suspended, 1953, USA: Suspended, 1953 – Franz Kline – WikiArt.org

III.
Mark Rothko, Light over Deep, 1956, 139.7 x 111.8 cm, Collection of Rita and Toby Schreiber: Light over Deep 1956 Painting By Mark Rothko – Reproduction Gallery (reproduction-gallery.com)

IV.
Gerhard Richter, Cage 2, 2006, 300 x 300 cm: Gerhard Richter: Cage Paintings, 541 West 24th Street, New York, April 19–June 26, 2021 | Gagosian

V.
Yves Klein, Monogold (MG 18), 1961, 77.9 x 56 cm, Museum Ludwig, Cologne, Germany:  Œuvres – Monogold sans titre – Yves Klein

VI.
Franz Kline, King Oliver, 1958, 251.4 x 196.8 cm, private owner: Franz Kline (1910-1962) (christies.com)

VII.
Mark Rothko, UNTITLED, 1963: 5a2007bf2e81a47f8657e4ec7f94b164_large.jpg (1500×1500) (touchofmodern.com)

Categories
2021 - Spring

Burning Out

Author: Gislain Cardinaux

So on my heart grows full of flame,
Of life ; passion to fuel the rage ;
To feed the beast I cannot tame.
Fighting to free it from its cage.

Through the scratches in my chest
Through the darkness and the haze
It lies and crawls, it thinks and rests
With eyes of burning amber gaze.

Its breath only to break silence,
Its mind ready to rise higher,
It’s on the watch for any chance
To burst and turn to bone fire.

So go on and burn, burn, burn…
But don’t burn out, hang on a bit.
Cause I will need you to return
And keep my inner fire lit.

Categories
2021 - Spring

These Nuts

Image: “Forest near Vřesina” by Jiri Brozovsky is licensed under CC BY 2.0

 

Author: Katharina Schwarck

 

The fine morning was sunny when I woke up,

Discovered the craving of eating a nut.

I tried to remember what tree it was near

The place where I had hidden my nuts last year.

 

Was it an elm, a birch, or a tree that broke?

I found myself climbing the core of an oak.

After hours of climbing, seeking, and hurry,

I found myself clenching my cheeks in worry.

 

I touched my cheeks, and felt something round.

Little did I know, I had nuts in my mouth!

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”.