Literary Diaries

Lady Annabelle

by TOKONI O. UTI

 She has a will, she has a choice.

 Now too loud to hear the noise.

 All those who never wanted to be.

 And all the voices that we see.

 Today she drowns in her regrets.

 Tomorrow she is silent but will not forget.

 There is nothing else to give.

 She loses her will to live.

 Victim of fear, slave to her plight.

 Find your ray of light.

 Sound off chanting, ring the liberty bell.

 Tears will fall for lady Annabelle.

Time Part 5

by JEREMIAH WALTON

I no longer want to be concious of my existence
And I understand, because of the outlook of this writing
This piece will be ridiculed and demoralized
But I simply realized my own individual truth
There is no difference between 5 minutes
And 50 years
This is an idea found by human thought
As time is
It is an idea
It is numberless
We try to contain it with dates, clocks, and watches
But it is endless and eternal
And we are trapped in it
A writer knowing his breaths will not be missed
Nor any human breath
The average lifespan of a human is 67.2 years
And of a mammal species as a whole
1,000,000 years
I am manipulating language to form a philosphicle case
That will be dismissed by others as the agitations of an angry, immature child

(C) Copyright Jeremiah Walton
www.nostroviatowriting.com

Broken Rib

by NORHAN ZAHER

You were something dark, rich and halting
lingering on the tip of my tongue

Not quite peppermint drops
Not quite cinnamon.

But what was I?
Braids, jasmine and fragrance?

Anything but
your broken rib.

Swept Away by Your Shadows

by NEMA SAEED

You have wandered
enough
in all the open spaces ‘tween my heart and
my veins;
hustling the moment my heart is
weary of all the eclipses.
ambling the time I would rush
into your colony, tugged by consolation;
allowing myself to be vulnerable-yet quite un-
close to falling.

The moments would be endlessly short,
like thunder,
tiny, like a single raindrop. The words we share would be
ocean-deep. Rainbow-colored. music-soaked.

And without a fight you would breathe in and out,
-like a gentle wind of your tranquil season-
sweeping away
all those tiresome thoughts o’ mine,
sending me to rebirth; thoughtless-
But one notion beating…

“Ever, could I or could I not count the shadows of your being?”