Thought Poems
The Dark One?
by Madhuri Arora
Beyond the light of the shining sun
There is someone misinterpreted as the dark one.
Beyond the realms of this life
There is someone we still need to find
......
My land’s orphan
by Kira Rodionova
Peaches heated by my sun
A dress so simple and so cotton
Would that child ever come
Back home
Where she is forgotten
Would the wind caress the ankles
Like it did so many times before
Would that land eventually remember
That her daughter is left outdoors?
......
Am Schluss
by Mario Odekerken
Ein Raum wird leer,
kein Laut,kein Schatten,
nur Staub in der Luft,
vom Licht getragen.
Die Schritte verhallen,
zurück bleibt nichts,
nur die Erinnerung,
verblasst wie Nebel im Morgen.
......
happy ending
by anne anonymoussometimes the happy ending is the ending itself
Continue readingThe idle child
by Sanjana N J
Gratitude knots in my throat.
I am surrounded by the bounty of her sacrifices, yet I let it slip through my fingers.
My heart aches with the weight of her expectations, each one a burden I fail to shoulder.
I am the idle child in the garden of plenty, the squanderer of every gift bestowed upon me.
Am Schluss
by Mario Odekerken
Ein Raum wird leer,
kein Laut,kein Schatten,
nur Staub in der Luft,
vom Licht getragen.
Die Schritte verhallen,
zurück bleibt nichts,
nur die Erinnerung,
verblasst wie Nebel im Morgen.
......
The idle child
by Sanjana N J
Gratitude knots in my throat.
I am surrounded by the bounty of her sacrifices, yet I let it slip through my fingers.
My heart aches with the weight of her expectations, each one a burden I fail to shoulder.
I am the idle child in the garden of plenty, the squanderer of every gift bestowed upon me.
happy ending
by anne anonymoussometimes the happy ending is the ending itself
Continue readingPlight of the Poet
by Christopher Kolmen
Is brevity not the soul of wit
So why then dilute the words which we spit
Is it perchance some performative urge
Some selfish ambition to a little longer be heard
What cause do we have to slight our creations
If not entitlement to our meaningless station
Am I not but a jester who wears a tin crown
Yet speaks of it as gold with the hope that my mouth is not bound
My land’s orphan
by Kira Rodionova
Peaches heated by my sun
A dress so simple and so cotton
Would that child ever come
Back home
Where she is forgotten
Would the wind caress the ankles
Like it did so many times before
Would that land eventually remember
That her daughter is left outdoors?
......
