One of the scribes was taken tonight.
One of the seers, one of our own.
One of the prophets will write no more lines
in radical rhymes
nor preach them to people like us.
He struggled against his emptying days,
though yearned for contentment and calm.
Thought he had lost that angry young man,
but McGarrigle – words never die;
they’re beyond a stillness of pulse.
Read and leave comments (12)
Tuesday 3rd December 2013 4:26 pm
I entered the cage instead of a wild beast,
Burned out my term and moniker by nail in barrack,
lived by the sea side and played the roulette,
had dinner, hell knows with whom, in a frock coat.
From the height of a glacier I watched half of the world,
three times was drowning and twice was ripped.
Left the country in which I was nursed.
A city can be made out of...
Read and leave comments (1)
Friday 24th May 2013 8:19 pm
By: Ali Taha Alnobani
© 2011 by Ali Taha Alnobani
A lot of people I knew
Tried to cross long bridges
Sofia's masterpiece story
Ended among her princes
They wished her to describe the picture
But she forgot her eyes
Upon the bridges' fences
A rhyme made of life
Attacked her burned senses
I adored Sofia
But the trees imposed ...
Read and leave comments (0)
Tuesday 5th March 2013 11:26 am
Otherwise summed up as: whatever happened to Rimbaud? Or Van Gogh, for that matter?
When a poet takes up arms
their quill is orphaned quick
though the pen is mightier
the sword some bards will pick
however just the cause may be
forsake their weapon true
to lose what makes them free
sad the ...
Read more …
Saturday 12th January 2013 1:54 pm
A small expression about being on the expanse of a windswept field, whatever the season, really, but placed in the golden, summery panorama in this poem. Please enjoy!
Amber reeds, pliant
in the summer wind
and back again
shouting then singing xanthine etudes
Read more …
Tuesday 8th January 2013 12:42 am