Dedicaţii...poetice

n-ai rima

te doare-n stima :)

Simt dorul doar in acel loc

Ce nu cunoaste soare ori lumina

Ce-a cunoscut mangaierea gurii

Si-a tremurat a ploaie in zi senina

fata, careia ii dedici poeme, nu mai e intre noi

-- how her loose curls float
above the silver fish as she leans in
to pluck its eyes --
You died just hours ago.
Not suddenly, no. You'd been dying so long
nothing looked like itself: from your window,
fishermen swirled sequins;
fishnets entangled the moon.
Now the dark rain
looks like dark rain. Only the wine
shimmers with candlelight. I refill the glasses
as we raise a toast to you
as so and so's daughter -- elfin, jittery as a sparrow --
slides into another lap
to eat another pair of slippery eyes
with her soft fingers, fingers rosier each time,
for being chewed a little.
If only I could go to you, revive you.
You must be a little alive still.
I'd like to put the girl in your lap.
She's almost feverishly warm, she weighs
hardly anything. I want to show you how
she relishes each eye, to show you
her greed for them.
She is placing one on her tongue,
Bright as a polished coin --
What do they taste like? I asked.
Twisting in my lap, she leaned back sleepily.
They taste like eyes, she said.
-- Mary Szybist, Portland

felicitari, ai castigat un asalt

in fata unui non-combat

felicitari, ai castigat un razboi

la care nu am participat

SeqenenreTao a scris:

felicitari, ai castigat un asalt

in fata unui non-combat

felicitari, ai castigat un razboi

la care nu am participat

razboi

Daca tot iti sunt indiferent

De ce in tot ce faci sunt inerent?

Daca tot ce vrei e sa dispar

De ce esti mereu acolo unde eu apar?

C.

We shifted like embarrassed generals Amateurishly dealing peace. It was not clear Who had initiated hostilities, our Casualties or even who had won? Only we wanted borders where there had been none; Diplomatic missions, common protocols. I preferred the war, When we loved each other.

IAN DUHIG

G.

Desmond O'Grady

My love is dressed in green,

In a green gown with green buttons ;

She sits on the green bank in the garden

Under the green leaved trees and

The living flowers.

Melissa

pe când întorc filele chipului ei
pe când îi ascult cu atenţie surâsurile unul câte unul

***

un cuvânt
atât de nesupus
atât de recules.
ca o respiraţie
neauzită.
un cuvânt
învecinându-se
cu cerul.

***

în vârful creionului frumuseţea ta

şi anatomia poemului
cu oasele lui imponderabile:
frumuseţea ta
insuportabilă...

***

Iulian Boldea

tuturor doamnelor si domnisoarelor

The Rose

The rose is obsolete
but each petal ends in
an edge, the double facet
cementing the grooved
columns of air --- The edge
cuts without cutting
meets --- nothing --- renews
itself in metal or porcelain ---

whither? It ends ---

But if it ends
the start is begun
so that to engage roses
becomes a geometry ---

Sharper, neater, more cutting
figured in majolica ---
the broken plate
glazed with a rose

Somewhere the sense
makes copper roses
steel roses ---

The rose carried weight of love
but love is at an end - of roses
It is at the edge of the
petal that love waits

Crisp, worked to defeat
laboredness --- fragile
plucked, moist, half-raised
cold, precise, touching

What

The place between the petal's
edge and the

From the petal's edge a line starts
that being of steel
infinitely fine, infinitely
rigid penetrates
the Milky Way
without contact --- lifting
from it --- neither hanging
nor pushing ---

The fragility of the flower
unbruised
penetrates space.

William Carlos Williams
(VII of "Spring and All")