Daily Archives: April 28, 2016

Colours of Autumn by Samantha Burns

I am not a silent poet

I pressed myself into your cover,

and sewed to it a piece of now.

Falling like the leaves outside,

I fall to you, longing the rich purple

paint. Your signature of our time

you were mine, and mine alone.

There was no kiss hello, goodbye –

Your thumb is tucked under fingers

with each stroke the knuckles brush.

Will you keep me here and hang me

for all your canvases to be warned.

View original post

Cooking Fat by Samantha Burns

I am not a silent poet

The lamb sits sizzling in its own fat,

pushing aromas around the room.

At the table are all of you,

mouths wet

with anticipation for the feast.

You do not look alike, and I even less so

with my nut roast, and steamed vegetables.

But yes, let’s dine with falsified interests and pretentious smiles,

ever competing – let’s enjoy a Sabbath under a religion

we do not worship nor believe in.

View original post

The Day Girl by Samantha Burns

I am not a silent poet

You always greet me with a kiss, (and that smile)

we talk away hours, over food – in bed.

I know each edge of your body just as well as your wife,

and it’s not like I never ask about  her.

I wear Jean Paul Gautier, for men

so you can still smell of  me

and I might pretend I smell of you on the weekend.

I wipe the lipstick off your cheek,

save birthday memoirs to your phone.

Pay for my own taxi home.

View original post

Hybrid Death by Abdel-llah Sahafi

I am not a silent poet

Tomorrow I’ll die,
And tomorrow the giants of Darkness will sew my shroud,
And they’ll get paid the price for their work in Cash.

Tomorrow I’ll die,
And tomorrow the second-hand of Big Ben will stop counting my wrinkles
aside from the myth of the homeland.

Tomorrow I’ll die,
And tomorrow the tribe will hit the intestate crematory introduced the wall.

Tomorrow I’ll die,
And tomorrow they won’t deploy the ash of my body on father’s fields
That was recommended by the love.

But I am sure tomorrow
My love also will come –
as well the comrades will come too
And they enclose my grave by pigment of memories
And they fill my mouth by the nectar of songs.

View original post

No one loves us like the graveyards by Matt Duggan

I am not a silent poet

A dark heart has captured Ragga

where only petrol blood-pools span

the Euphrates river; lips were sealed

like stitches weaved from the soul,

truth would prevail beyond her death

as she celebrated Eid in her pyjamas;

No one loves us like the graveyards.

They do not watch the stars

Even though they stare deep into amber sky,

Bumping into each other

While walking the shopping aisles,

Not for any religious purpose

But for the drones and the missiles

Webbed in skylines of this Syrian circus,

No one loves us like the graveyards.

View original post

Child in Sand by Matt Duggan

I am not a silent poet

The overlords stand over a child in sand

in gowns of white they peer down,

small hands imprinted on a Turkish shore

where no tears fall from our overlords.

The roar of an ocean spews more children from its waves

what can we write in the sand;

An eye for an eye

….a tooth for a tooth

A cross for a crescent moon!

We with ketamine formed eyes sleep in our catatonic widescreen

liberal comfortabilities; Can we step outside

open up all of our selfish wounds where an ocean builds

…………………………………………a watery cemetery

layered with the bones of children in sand-tombs;

where no tears will fall from our overlords.

View original post

A Fractured Ghazal For 3,000 Unaccompanied Minors by John Mackie

I am not a silent poet

a compassionate person I of course
feel jolly sorry for your pain

and understand your journey was hard
through sleet and wire and driving rain

running from the black flag yes? bullets
bombs, chemical weapons (yawn) again

but dear child please understand
there is for us no fiscal gain

in housing you here , a minor still
you can only be a resource drain

do see it from our point of view
you could be trouble – is that plain?

View original post