Thursday, March 24, 2011

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Resting at Sweeter Poetry today

my dear friends 
for always being...

being there
and here
so near
with me.


Thursday, March 17, 2011


Something broke inside
As a creak in a soundless world

All said by the sufferers
All written
In the books

Some weve read
Some we should

And the heroes
Who yelled in a voiceless world
Were heard

Some listened to
By the ones who experienced

The creak inside the voices

Image > Lemons by Plamen 11

Sunday, March 13, 2011


Calendar of days untold
Unaffected , untroubled,

Books on my desk unread
Unfolded, untouched, unhandled

Trees full of birds that chirp
Unheard, unloved

Music unheard
displayed, unplayed

Framed pictures of people
unmet, unobserved 

Dreams whose meanings
Remain in misfortune
Misunderstood, misbelieved

Sunrays which escaped me
Warmed me, warned me
And behind left me

Directions to three ways

Fish swimming in low tide.


Saturday, March 12, 2011

Vita Vitae

I choose now
To live and let live

And echo the words
As they go 

and let live



Live and
Let live


Image . Life breath by  m0thyyku

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Mors Mortis

Some deaths ...
   come fortunately.
Visit peacefully,
   keep their eye on
And we are aware
Never dump,
   never smart enough.

Some deaths ...
Reach by transport
Without a passport
Off guard, cruelly...
In that second, that moment
When your whole life comes up
   In a show.

Some deaths ...
Come without holding the wake over
Whispering, hesitant.
   For the greenhorn
   Always remote.

All deaths ...

With and without pain
  So different,
  So much
     the same...


Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Because of you I learned to read and write
So as to appreciate from your own handwriting
    how your words  would caress my heart
   and refine my intelligence.

Because of you, I followed a diet
  Consisting of not having a single mouthful
     until I could hear from your grace
  But, fortunately, I got to understand
      that the brightness you found in your venture
      would blind your forehead and
 Thus, I would have become as thin as

dry grass...

Because of you, my eyes faithfully witnessed
   the every day dawn
   waiting for your visit
   when we would  drop together,
   in the dark night of distance…

Adapted and translated from a fragment of a letter Dulcinea wrote to the Knight Don Quixote

Image: Dream of Don Quixote by Vahan Bego -2006 


Tuesday, March 8, 2011


We …
Lovers of love
Standing in the rear
Most times of history

Why wo-man?
Not because of man
But because of hu-man...

At the sight of our sisters
Being raped
Being sold
Being  killed
Being shared
Being betrayed
Being covered
Of eyes and hair

For many a right
We’ve had to fight
Many a time
Even and
especially for that  of

Mothers of the Earth
Mothers of perfection
And also…
Mothers of other women
And also…

__________________________________________________________________posted for OSW
NB: The Old English wifman meant "female human" (man or mann had a default meaning of "male human," but could also be used generically to refer to a person of unspecified gender, corresponding to Modern English "one" or "someone"). The medial labial consonants coalesced to create the modern form "woman"; the initial element, which meant "female," underwent semantic narrowing to the sense of a married woman ("wife").- { from Wikipedia }

March 8th , International Women’s Day

Saturday, March 5, 2011

The Power Of The Mind

When meditating, you concentrate on your breath. Trying to put all thoughts out of your mind, just count as you breathe in and as you breathe out...


And so they say and must be right

We are what and who we believe we are.


Giving time to this mind to think

So badly trained, too bad

I’ve found the self in contaminating worlds
By what my eyes have witnessed

And I take the scenes behind the screen
And make new recipes
With ingredients you’d find disturbing
Or even disgusting

I’ve found the self getting out of me
And in that lost control
So far from paradise 
Sinking while thinking
Falling into the abyss
The abyss 
Of the power of the m.i.n.d. 


I Wasn’t Dreaming

I wasn’t dreaming...
I was reading a paper called Nowhere News.
 I could hardly read without my glasses,
     but the news was all the same, no good. 

So I left it behind and went towards the house,
     alone in the middle of that immense field.
I was walking and I was not dreaming.
 It was not black and white. 

The long grass made the walk difficult.
I didn’t need to run, for I wasn’t escaping,
I was not afraid,
no monsters were following me,
     no monsters ahead..
 Going to that grey house, why...
     in the middle of a place with views to nowhere?

 Why grey, why so dark grey?
 The shadows led from and to all directions
      despite the sun being in front of me
and the sinister building…

     Everything else was a bright dazzling yellow,
     the sky and the long grass,
     thistle and stinging nettle
    scratching my arms and  legs. 

I was striding to a house where
 I sensed and figured I would not be welcome.
It might even happen that there was no one there awaiting me,
    so why insist? 

I wasn’t dreaming,
   I could hear my panting 
and the breeze felt sweet
   and nothing hurt.
 And I wasn’t afraid.
It couldn't be a dream...

 Grasshoppers, lizards and other bugs
 run away as they felt my presence.
I turned right and left the house behind.

It was then that I found the train,
  one like those you see in the old films...
I could hear the old engine,
     waiting for me to depart. 

 A train whose windows showed the faces
 whose eyes looked out into a distance,
 the distance of their own thoughts.

 I got on believing I was being watched,
    but the eyes remained lost in their minding-their-own-business.

So I joined the scenario and did the same.
 I was not dreaming...
     for I was so conscious of all my body parts.

 How come nobody seems familiar to me?
Yet, I so well knew
 We were all travelling to the same destination,
 where they read the Nowhere News paper
and watch just one worrying channel on TV. 

And I thought to myself...
When I arrive there, wherever,
I’ll sure get some 
deep deep sleep…


Everything that you do, it was all yellow. Canvas Print by Paul Louis Villani

Friday, March 4, 2011

The Day Don Pedro Passed Away

By his side
His old dog Tob
Moves his ears
Getting rid of the flies

Rocking his chair
His eyes fixed in the horizon
Endless dry valley
Only once in all his life
He visited the sea
There she was
Collecting shells...

Today she’s come
With that last ray
To take him
Where he belongs…

So much can be said in 55 words. Visit Mr Knowitall for more!

Image > ‘SPECTATORCanvas Print by imagetj

Wednesday, March 2, 2011


Let me
Kiss you
Just once
So as to try
What I willed and dreamed
I imagined
It would be sweet
Like the fruit
More than the sweetest ones
I imagined
We’d melt
And as we confused
One into the other
Among such passion
We’d forget
Why we came
Why we are in this world
Or rather
We’d get to understand…

Image > 'Fever Canvas Print by Barbara Glatzeder

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Night Swim


The night glitters

Under the water
The words dive.

On the surface
The moon swims.

While the other
So high, sighs.

Observing her...

...And the child
By the shore
Out cries

C’mon, night,
Play your cymbals...

Adapted from  'First Lagoon', Romancero Gitano by Federico GarcĂ­a Lorca                                           OSW

Image> Missing You by Frozenfa