“light on the rocks” phot@rt by Aeglie
Look at the bright night sky
Look at all those stars
are looking at you tonight
They are also there during day time
You could not see them
with your imperfect eyes
They are beyond sunlight
But they can always look for you
being light
Seven people–or rather, six people and one group–sent me poems for the “Ultraconserved Words” challenge. The prompt was to write a poem using ten or more words from a group of twenty-three words that some linguists believe have been in use since the end of the last ice age. Congratulations to all the participants! Five of the seven poems centered around a mother figure, but besides that, the poems were different in form, tone and–even with a common core of words–diction. All of the words– I, we, thou, ye, who, this, that, what, mother, male/man, not, worm, bark, hand, ashes, fire, to give, to pull, to spit, to flow, and to hear–found a place in at least one of the poems, including ye and thou, not easy words to find use for in 2013.
Where to put poems based on words with ancient etymologies? A dictionary…
View original post 530 more words
εσπερινό ποίημα
Στην παρατεταμένη σου απουσία, μου επιτρέπεις
τη χρήση της γης, προσδοκώντας
να αποδώσει κάτι η επένδυση. Πρέπει να αναφέρω
ότι απέτυχα σε ό,τι μου ανατέθηκε, κυρίως
στην καλλιέργεια τομάτας.
Νομίζω δεν έπρεπε να ενθαρρυνθώ να καλλιεργήσω
τομάτες. Ή, αν έπρεπε, εσύ όφειλες να κρατάς
μακριά τις δυνατές βροχές, τις κρύες νύχτες που έρχονται
τόσο συχνά εδώ, ενώ αλλού έχει
δώδεκα βδομάδες καλοκαίρι. Όλο αυτό
σου ανήκει: ωστόσο,
φύτεψα τους σπόρους, είδα τους πρώτους βλαστούς
σαν φτερούγες να σχίζουν το χώμα, κι η καρδιά μου
ράγισε από το μαρασμό, το μαύρο σημάδι τόσο γρήγορα
να εξαπλώνεται σε κάθε σειρά. Αμφιβάλλω
αν έχεις καρδιά, με την έννοια που εμείς αντιλαμβανόμαστε
αυτόν τον όρο. Εσύ που δεν ξεχωρίζεις
τους νεκρούς από τους ζωντανούς, που είσαι, άρα,
απρόσβλητος από προμηνύματα, δε γνωρίζεις
πόσο τρόμο υποφέρουμε, το μαραμένο φύλλο,
τα κόκκινα φύλλα του σφένδαμου που πέφτουν
ακόμα και τον Αύγουστο, στο πρώιμο σκοτάδι: είμαι υπεύθυνη
γι’ αυτά τα φυτά.
Clouds spread now apart
It’s revealed full, clear, silverwhite
It floats up into the ocean sky
You give your hand in mine
You can fearlessly look beyond and high
Around the corner, down on the earth
there is a child
all day long has eaten nothing
Swallows fly close to the earth tonight
North May wind is getting up,
whistles and blows wild
Snow smells from distant mounts
We put again on something warm
We make sure our windows closed
Left apricots into the bowl upon the table
A hunger for fear nothing satisfies
I walk alone, early evening, along the rough path among the blue sea and the bare hill
The wind sings a song I alone can hear; I alone can witness
I have to remember
I strongly feel I have to remember this song the wind sings to me
I whistle along with the wind
It’s an ancient song I sing
Blue waters sing along with me
Rocky slopes sing along with me
Blue waves in shade
Red crags against sunset
how it comes that the smell of fresh mown lawn is so pleasant to us and thus we deeply breathe so we can widely enjoy the scent of hurt grass, the fragrant of leaves amputee
“singing, we create the world” dr@wing by Aeglie
freedom is a small though compound word
it tries to give a clue to individuals about being free to deem beyond any bounds and boundaries of the process of thinking
it keeps whispering to human beings about being free to consider beyond any bonds and bondages of the frame of thought
it hopes it will teach people to set free their free will and release their great might hidden and forgotten deep inside
freedom is a very precious present for the present day’s free world; and that’s why it’s kept safe behind borders of any kind
poverty is wrapped up in the riches; and vice versa
singing we create the world © 
kind of dialogue