Tag: love
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All of them…by G. Mramor
I am not the dream they made You hide because I am not the Father of your children nor the Ghost of a love they took from You and made something sick.
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Speak me love…by G. Mramor
Love no hero. Love the giant that ripples your blood. Love the fray that hammers the nerve. Love the mouth that speaks your fever. Love the fracture in the bone. Love a broken axe. Love the cross you do not carry. Love the day you make with sand. Love a white bird in the snow.…
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That grows from your hands…by G. Mramor
And indifference bears its heart stone, Though a million words be spilt Love lords only the is. In time remember will divest me of this, For a voice in a box An unwanted stone sings its spring. A rose is no flower that grows from sand, And a love is not remembered When…
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Seeing all that was good in the land…by G. Mramor
Because I was there for the parting of the lakes and I saw the sun swallowed up by a whale and yet I stood transfixed as fires from sunset ran into houses dorming families thrown together in stitches from the war’s end and I watched muted as trees bludgeoned the ends of houses till they…
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One drink and seven or ten…by G. Mramor
Because he does not want to believe that one drink and seven makes no love. Because in the far back of the taxi he can see her head on his shoulder and her hand on his knee and his on top of hers like they’ve never been away. Because the boy next to him sees…
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And the river makes no sound for you…by G. Mramor
Because the river makes no sound for you, it can only wake, like the past walking with you, going before you. Because how many memories must you remember to get it out of you? Who was like a mother to your love and a name to all the quiet of your living. Who was a…
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For now or for always…by G. Mramor
Young and thinking a name is forever. Fore after years snowblind the snow has settled and runnels down in icy blue flows and rivers past my feet, colding the memory in me. Yet the oldman can only smile. Fore that mountain of ice and snow has become this valley’s basin. A cold blue that warms…
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Poetry submission: Aboard the greyhound by Elena Carpi
Elena Carpi is a graduate of Temple University where she studied English literature and Italian language. She has lived in France, Italy and Colombia and is currently living in Western Massachusetts where she is working on an Alpaca farm and writing her first novel. You can find her poetry and prose at http://elenacarpi.wordpress.com/ … I…
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Poetry submission: 3:44 by M. Bowen
Matti Bowen is a graduate of Binghamton University, where she studied English and Cinema. A self confessed Knowledge Omnivore, she revels in the richness of human expression found in everything from blog culture, to science fiction, to home improvement television and Melville. She currently lives in the north Hudson Valley with her dog and far…
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On the morning of oblivion…by G. Mramor
On the morning of oblivion I rise with the mourning star. I move through the crowds and let our shoulders bump, our hands touch, our eyes wonder. In the park light dazzles children climbing hills, dashing fields, running the jungle gyms lords of all. And in the cafes hairy legs and summer dresses, grizzly beards…
