Until Time paused a moment imploded, the shuddering tremor, rippled in dramatic light silence came with pain, fallen boughs new sown seeds, growth blemished in bark reaching skyward with gentle leaves, the tree had not forgotten yet learned from it's birth never to touch that light or feel that moment again. Kyochikuto/Oleander from chugoku to the ota nothing remained upon the debris strewn red earth, in the silence that came with time, shoots with elliptic leaves to five bright petals, vivid signal that, survival is the future that through resilience we find a peace and learn that for no other reason it should never happen again. With these two poems i came third out of 741 poets worldwide and was presented with a gift from the Japanese government and they where read out at a ceremony at UN headquarters in New York by the Japanese Ambassador which you can watch here http://www.un.org/disarmament/special/meetings/dis_week/ the poems revolve around the Hibakusha survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the poems are also going into a book in New York
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sublime oranges
he measured the room
by volume of the dark
with light subtracted,
moving as ulysses did in hades
he would find breakfast on the sand,
ocean not so far away
as high tides where relevant,
rituals began
ideas stencilled on embryonic dna
created this path and outlook,
sometimes he felt it was only he
he revolving and the earth had stopped,
it was not a crisis of meaning
only an imbalance on his poetics,
even in the dark
he could place a pen nib and write
about placing kisses on her
naked arcitecture,
a finding in deep silence
what she had really meant
under that cloak of shuddering mysticism
pen scratched paper
it would be ten pages,
before images faltered and pen halted,
ignoring wine that had already spilled on
table top,
peeled an orange
segmented aspects from which to
derive a special calm,
her bewitching had been an interference
but now choking fumes cleared
and he was at last
truly free
@dVersePoets
hegel gothic
a fugitive from that clear tear
filled reservoir,
she had not used despite
emotional fractures,
his fracking of her loins
as a way to magic love gases
leaving stains on nocturnal linen,
it was a dimension of time
she did not want to fill,
running through avenue of trees
and answer that once and only calling
leaving vomit on tree roots,
offering to those sprites that
intrigue our fairytale curiosity ,
dark folds and long chimed bell,
within heavy breasted heart
answers writhed as a bed
of worms center of her being
and all that it withstands,
change had many prices
and used only certain currencies
that she had to pay,
was it worth it
nail scrawled words on her back
proved it
Sunday whirl
concatenation
ethno totems
to sky conspire
landscape doors and views
memory an artifact
to a city bar,
snowprints on sidewalk
snowscape lean and pale
collect and exist
what love brings tangible
native ambiance
settled and answered
bring your dances
and embraces
bleak satirical cold
twisted with lime in gin
amid saxophones and guitars
as red flamed resonance,
word labels on her cheeks
written and said
walk out of the snow
into the light
sins well washed with winter rain
glass bowl sun
will rise with the headlines
that make no sense,
the night as always
long with relief,
closing eyes
alaska seemed much closer
Wolfgang Paalen
Fata Alaska (1937)
interior of the narrative
with powdered paint and eye
and quenchless burning soul
deeper dark star fury
takes up the hurrying wind,
purity lost beneath the moon
misty champagne breath
keeps the flow
and warm ones eyes,
flash and hold,
adore me now or die
happy rays
reach sinew and bone,
beguiled so beguiled
by brighter grasp of desire,
fire and malice
forge the steel that cuts
the bonds of spanked behind
erotocise the far out stars
roses wanted only for the kiss,
hey harmony sing and
conceal wine impassioned veins,
sing one more time
the glory and the gem
of our dark hearts,
brutal tug of hair
claimed on oceans shore,
love an orphan of friendship
ceaseless and perverse,
liberty burnt over ashes
in her thrall i am
beat beat beat,
the frenzied imps of fire
in desperate crouch
of soul
i remain
@dVersePoets
songs of the heart
suns pity shines
on the damaged boat,
listless resting on rocky beach
cracked paint and clouded windows,
once and a while ago
it moved on inlet
under sail and motor
bright painted with bright young things
sipping drinks,
swim shorts and bikinis
cast off bottles
peeled labels no messages
sink if not carried by current
settling with pale crabs
moving over bottom
withe sideward indifference
creations blood flowed,
and they aged,
a parked sedan
jacketed against the cold
a mans hand touched bow
feeling that old electricity,
seeing the vibrancy
that once had been
a life of splendor
washed over
awakened by sailors milky tears
from depths beyond the sun
she rose red ribbon bound
born of shell and bone,
sand shifted
muted fish schools scattered
his embrace she sought,
scarecrow masted vessel
dashed upon sharp geology,
to safety they leaped,
cruel sky streaked by storm
and acoustic rumble,
body battered in dinghy lay
hand outstretched
fingertips testing jagged surface,
light shone and radiated
in her eyes as close rose
long limbed form kelp caressed
finding him now face down
closer towards him,
lifting his frame from sea to shore
air sharp on lungs
heart pounding,
ship exploded a desolate fireball
as she bowed over him
lips to his,
spluttering coughing
found himself exhausted
and willing in her eyes
bonded by kiss
in eternities grasp
poignant limitations of sorrow
jeweled tombs of once visionary eyes
that had lost fiery lightning and the moon,
withdrawn no supernatural
accomplishment,
as symbols of obscure hours
watched with a disdain for light
becoming soiled by the soul
with august sorrows,
mankind knew of many merciless rulers
who used terror as supreme power,
rebellion awakened from stubborn sleep,
imagination of those
seeing a future others had not
next morning would have many suggestions,
vanity would not nurse emotion
bullets would not be kissed by lips
that spoke of treacherous dreams,
music of voices spread over cities
and blue skied landscapes,
plans conceived with tears
and women taking widows veil,
television messages and distortion
vulgar external eyes
hands folded on lap
pretend subtle debate and interest
whilst buildings burn
assured rocks thrown
defiance not disguised,
all interior tragedies have those warriors
the fallen and fables,
but all endings are not the same
for that you have to wait
for winters grasp
velvetmedia 