Literary Diaries

Deprivation

by MYRYN VILLAFLOR

[they slither, and they hiss
like talking serpents , as they pass
through those discarded streets]

his head’s a sanctuary of sounds,
where he would hear his father 
sing him to sleep

[they drift, and they hover
like cigarette smoke would
inside that shady space]

his heart’s an ocean, and 
women are like waves; reflecting, 
and refracting along the shoreline of his life

[if only I could stop the sky
from raining,

the sky,
from raining]

then, no night would be too long, 
but, well, he’s drunk and stoned 
and he’s traveling solo

[will someone sadder, 
please, tell him,
please]

his skin’s a collage of 
despondency; a patchwork of 
a midday muse.

Copyright (C) 2013 by EvanescentMoon. 
12.10.13

Seraphina [The Stigma Of Your Eyes]

by MYRYN VILLAFLOR

She came to me

like an apparition; white hot, clad in a wreath of lilies
and a girdle of pearls around her waist

a dream keeper that: meanders
among innumerable trees and valleys; straddles
between mountains and shabby railroads
as falling flakes of Jupiter’s moon

shimmer,
then float,

like a sprinkle of fireflies around her head.

With a mother-like godform, all curves and softness
do not be misled. Her stare,
hold powerful storms
and manipulating fire

the devil’s rock would crumble
the devil’s hole would collapse

she is a replica of an enchantress
whose rage, fiercer than death
whose resentment, greater
than the deadliest poison.

Do not fall asleep,
for she is the nightmare that stalks
your every slumber
your every dream.

Copyright (C) 2013 by EvanescentMoon

Qwertyuiop

by DANNY KEIGHTLEY

You crumbled into letters
and awkward spaces
unneeded semi colons;
my hand on your cheek
your waist, your lipstick-less lips became
words
note the particular emphasis I have
placed upon that solitary noun
note how it encompasses everything
or nothing depending on
whether or not you read this;
see it as a lament, or a violent
semi-chapter, or bookend.

Indifference tells me that I do not love you
was what I was intending on being my
first line
but I’ve rearranged us,
and now that I have your attention
note how clumsy you’ve formed upon this
page — perhaps this is a metaphor or
representational of our relationship.
You tell me.
You wrote this.

You’ve plenty more to say.

Nonsensical

by RANIA HANI MOALLEM

Throttling within colors, contours
not sure hitherto on what letter
I am hanging, as I pen down
this verse, or the color featuring
those tapping fingertips;
stripped from each inch of sanity…

*Sigh*

Carrying a stumbling mind, tripping from
one crowd into another, measuring miles
I possibly will choke with, presently
before I seize the ladder back,

for like a wearied smoldering cigarette,
he guides deep breaths in;
I burn to ashes.

The Dessicated Scholar

by DIB DE LEON

I met a guy in a coffee shop,
Scholarly looking to be precise.
He laughed at my poems,
Well, I don’t think that’s nice.

He told me, “The accents are wrong.”,
To do this and to do that.
“Lessen the beats, and your poems sounds, well… flat.”

He handed me a piece of paper and told me, “Read this.”
He laughed at my efforts, I pity his,
They read like words of a heartless lover armed with an empty kiss.

Encomium

by DIB DE LEON

Poetry,
Few are those enthralled by you completely,
And like them,
I am a witness of your inner beauty,
From time to time with your mystical rhyme –
It keeps me sedate and free from the pain,
Of emotional thingies that make me insane.
How can I repay someone as good as you?
I guess I’ll never know and for that I love you so,
Indeed you are a mystery,
Forever be with me,
Thanks a lot, poetry.

-R

*Encomium is a Latin word meaning the praise of a person or thing.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Encomium

Little Bits of Poetry

by DAMON D. BREWER

With little bits of poetry,
my way through life I see.
I find poetry helps me
to see things that I should see.
Poetry helps me see more clearly,
the things that I need to see,
I see better with poetry.
That is why I write
little bits of poetry.

Torn Pages Of A Poet

by NEMA SAEED

False words lapse from my tongue
Fall where they don’t belong
While papers seek something new
Eerie winds stir bleak thoughts
Verses yearn for old notes
Dead roses cling to the dew
Words drown with sinking ships
rhyme dies between the lips
Just as rainbows lose their hue

Waves that dissipate shells
disperse stories to tell
Making poems incomplete
Metaphors lost in void
In poems we destroyed
Of poets seeking relief
My pens ran out of ink
While true emotions wilt
Poems will forever bleed

*Each individual Balassi stanza is 9 lines in length and has a syllable count of 6-6-7-6-6-7-6-6-7, the rhyme scheme for each stanza is bbaccadda.