sun is out
morning clouds
and somehow the day is begun,
on the horizon
a hawk glides
with the tip of the wing,
if you listen
you might hear its cry,
beautiful midsummer day,
peace finds its song
and another year
creeps along
In this world of dream-forms
Awake only for seconds at a time
Is there an end to this suffering
This incomprehensible longing
Of my every cell to burst open
And become boundless water again
Is there such a thing as pain
In this default state of alertness
I let every fibre of my being twitch
With a force almost nuclear
Until there is but a whirlwind of chaos
Destructive and devouring
A hunger that feeds upon itself
Self-perpetuating
Self-habituating otherness
Amounting to everything and nothing at all
And from this place of nothingness
I carry with me the depth of the oceans
The spirits of killer whales
The forcefulness of wind
The darkness of the wisest minds
That dwell beneath the earth
Seared into my glass-like skin
The mark of wilderness itself
The sparrows gently sing by TigerEgern, literature
Literature
The sparrows gently sing
Silent was the night
Silver stars so brightly shone
As out of a dream
The nightingale broke out
In a song as pure as gold
Step by step I followed
An invisible pathway
Meandering here and there
From tree to tree
With steps as soft as velvet
Into the sea of golden light
I gently sailed away
On wings of silk and whispers
Leaving fear and age behind
Like dust in winter's wind
I rest my head again
Against my worn old pillow
Dream again tonight
Of days and years gone by
The sparrows gently sing.
End of
the season between
The clouds hang low
Hanging low
Heavy hand
The wind is
Blowing
And it doesn’t rain
It doesn’t rain
It doesn’t rain
It doesn’t
(The spider in the greenhouse
Sleeps very softly
In the daylight
The wind in the hollow
The hollow
She hunts at night
Her legs move
Dark in the evening
And lives
Without making a sound)
Into the wild he wanders
Winding paths on steep slopes
Fording creeks of ice cold water
Resting for a moment
Oh, weary traveler
You lost your way
But found your heart.
Lasting Shadow 2024
Like a tear drop
That has vanished
Into the depth of ocean!
I dream of becoming a rainbow, falling mist,
Crystal clear stream,
I want the awesome animals inside forest
To drink my lovable outer shell.
To be reborn as deer’s hairs,
Flowing dancing in the tune of waves
According to the song of wind,
on yellow hue,
Like a child bidding,
Ta ta to older generation!
As you scratch beneath the surface
to what holds us from beginning to end,
there are notes scrawled in the margin
writhing like worms --
one life exchanged for another,
one spared,
one sacrificed.
Not a field of asters or geraniums,
not a ground razed - a garden
bowing over itself with bracken.
Just the dark, murky earth
pungent with all the lives
fallen back into it.
Tear your heart out
And it is not enough
Numb all your senses
Scratch off your skin
And the emptiness stays around
Out there in the desert
Under the moon and beneath the stars
Come ready to be disassembled
Yet, it will not be enough
No, come free of your thoughts
For the gate to open wide
In between the faceless stones
Free of illusions of your I
Let your skin turn cold
Let your eyes reflect the light
But never linger
Let your spirit roam the wilds
Let the darkness claim you
And let the daylight of next day
Burn what's left of your possessive mind
Free of all temptations
Back with the earth and the smells of dawn
Let the now absorb you
‘Till your body’s but a vessel
And the self is but an instant
In the flow of time
Little lights upon the moss
dancing over water’s murk
leading as the shadows lurk
and step by step in longing loss
into the bog I’ll never cross
seeing not the fang, the dirk
‘mid little lights that shine and smirk
I scream, I sink, through dream and dross.
And here I sit, and here I sleep
kept and carried by the peat
my harvest gone that none shall reap
and here a thousand more will meet
in silence until judgment day
forever in the marsh’s sway.
The dawning light falls
on trees ice-sculpted
twigs frozen brittle
their sap now time-locked
and birdlife absent
The sky holds its threat
like a ransom note
scrawled on grey paper
Winter’s terrorist
set to trigger snow
While chill seeps on through
gets to every part
nothing live immune
blood struggles to flow —
thaw the frosted heart
Water turns to steel
bright untarnished knives
hang from gutters where
faint sun strikes in vain
bids hasty retreat
A short New Year’s day
tucks shadows inside
allows darkness fall
smother edge to edge
as cold conquers all
Stamps Of The Life And The Rain by MarioStrikerMurphy, literature
Literature
Stamps Of The Life And The Rain
Over the city, a strong downpour; everything has the same color, and we almost can't see the nearby mountains. It ooks the gray sky is falling over the Earth. A bit later, the sky is more blue, the wind is cleaner, and the streets and houses are like if they were recently washed.
In the taller mountains, the rain comes, sometimes accompained by thunders and thudnerbolts which resound in the valleys. The shepherd vigilates the herd which crowds scared, and he covers himself the best he can do, with rubber sleeves, at open field. He kmows very well he shouldn't tae shelter neither under the trees because they can attract bolts, nor in the ravines because suddenly it can drop a torrent under. But after the temporary, the green of the hills and the hillock will rebirth; there will be good grass, by too much time, for all the cattle.
In the valleys and the plains, the water falls, sometimes, in a narrow curtain which floods the fields and makes the roads get muddy. The seasonal scares
într-o bucătărie, într-o dimineață
un pisoi, un greiere
într-o bucătărie, într-o dimineață
își cere iertare
un bizon, un câine aducând ceva înapoi
un cadou, o catastrofă, un cartof
o mare strofă despre băiatul stelică care acum potcovește caii
repară, cară, fură ventilatoare
"dă-mi și mie să îmi cumpăr o bucată de pâine, tati", zice moșulețul care are acum 60 de ani
acesta e un poem pentru tine care să îți spună că nu mint
și că îmi pare rău
că nu rămân aici să păzesc nuferii
îi iau acasă, aranjez floare cu floare
grădinar minuscul, grădinar micuț
nu ne mai grăbim nicăieri
oricum planeta asta mică se odihnește și numără toate pajiștile din vecini
ei privesc
privesc și copiii lor
ce înțelegător și artistic
ce teamă cu ochi de pisică
cerul caută înlocuitor
mă întreb cine plânge când nu mai plouă și de ce mă tem azi
ia, că nu mă mai tem
IOSKOH OP1 : Original Form by LucavyArt, literature
Literature
IOSKOH OP1 : Original Form
❆
IOSKOH
Warning : depiction of hunt and death of animals
- 1 -
The first rays of morning sunlight were filtered and peeking through the branches and the pine needles, spreading a celestial atmosphere in the forest and making the fresh powder snow sparkles.
In the cold and humid air, small clouds of mist, blown by the warm exhalations of giant creatures covered in snow clinging to their dense coat, appeared and disappeared in silence, witness to life in this still and silent setting.
One of these creatures, not quite a goat, not quite a bison, but somehow like an in-between, had just opened its eyes for the first time in his life and was contemplating the spectacle of the sunrise reflected on the snow. He was lying in the snow powder, his frail legs still trembling would surely carry him on his next attempt to stand up, but for now, he needed to rest. He had all the time he wanted to figure out how to walk, and something in this foggy, bright, quiet world around him whispered to him
I'm ashamed to admit that I ran after
When he took off for calmer pastures
But it's okay he'll never know for sure
Because he never even glanced over his shoulder
And from way out here I'll watch as winter
Takes it all from him and turns it into
A creeping longing
That's seeping cold in
So if he ever doubles back
Tracing troubled tracks
He won't find a way through
My rose and vine maze full
Of pitfalls and thorns
And I'll miss every dropped call