Archives
May 2007
Fiction:
Non Fiction:
Poetry:
His Death
by
Jessica Denton
his death
was like a breath out
that never came
it was a lifting off
that didn't have a name
it wasn't a full stop
it was an open end
an amputation
we could barely comprehend
it was incredible
he was no longer here
we needed him
and so did they
Flight of the Eagle
by
Michael Johnson
From the dawn, dusty skies
comes the time when
the eagle flies-
without thought,
without aid of wind,
like a kite detached without string,
the eagle in flight leaves no traces,
no trails, no roadways-
never a feather drops
out of the sky.
The Fare
by
Bill Gates
The man at the toll gate
Looks queerily at us approaching,
Slowing up and stopping.
What is the fare?
But he only laughs
At us stopping and asking.
The only fare one needs
to travel This road
is One Soulful Bounding LEAP
Lovesick Venus II (The Recovery)
by
Sarah Gyan
Awake to find what you left behind…
A frightful revelation that persists in the mind,
until you stop to think.
There is no missing link.
Iridescent bubbles of memories float by,
haunting waters and hovering in skies.
Nature consumes you as you drift away.
The rapture converges with a timeless day.
As you stand, a speck in the universe,
you rebuke the man who whispers the curse.
The words that exposed your heart for all to see,
feeding his ego with your energy.
You meditate on the lotus of love,
as the Gods chant incantations from above.
They protect you from the destructive entity
that preys on innocence and divinity.
Defying all odds, you cast aside,
all the emotions that refused to die.
Body and soul, sing and dance,
to a rhapsody that invites a trance.
Sordid games perish with the wink of an eye.
Light conquers darkness, as all the lies
are thrown out a window, into a forgotten sea,
where melancholia barred you from being free.
Frantic shadows disposed by light
as the colourful rays of love fight.
They resurrect you from a porcelain state,
as you learn to deal with a multi-dimensional fate.
Enigmatic as these moments may seem,
you arrive at the epiphany that you are redeemed.
The delirium of joy that you thought had died,
is no longer the mask, but dwells inside.
Quiet Rooms
by
Roger Singer
Silent vacant windows,
Tired supporting walls,
Cracked paint, flaked and dry,
Long past days of care.
A once proud roof,
Firm weather shield,
Wilts like elephant skin,
Weeping tears of strain.
Invading curling vines,
Snooping coiled snakes,
Unobstructed gaining access,
Each room and hall attacked.
Quiet dusted hallways,
Lifeless open doors,
Faded squares on wallpaper,
Where family pictures hung.
Ceiling lights,
Grand support,
Shadows formed from souls,
Lost on passing years.
Morose kitchen blue,
One three legged chair,
By a table with no top,
Lacking wisdom and a heart.
Forgotten faces,
Forsaken thoughts,
Vanished with time,
Like homes without people.
Art:
"Hands" by Nyssa Wells
Music:
by Suchoon Mo
Must I be
A lonely tree
A tree of lonely world
Tall and proud
As years go by
Listening to the wind?
Must I be
A lonely hawk
A hawk of lonely world
Keen and rapt
With searching eye
Soaring to the sky?
Must I be
A lonely rock
A rock of lonely world
Wet and cold
In the autumn rain
Facing to the sea?
Must I be
A lonely bell
A bell of lonely world
Pure and true
In the moonless night
Ringing in the dark?
Suchoon Mo
-Religeous Humanism, 1991, volume 25, number 1-
