The Poetry of Emotion
The apricot trees hum their own melody falling in beat to the levanter's symphony I utter hushed notes the silence of a doused fire. Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com About the Poet: Prarthana Vijayakumar is a young poet whose work has recently appeared in Minute Magazine. Poetry serves as a window to her soul and... Continue Reading →
catalpa, heart-shaped and boney your daddy died years ago, in redress of his mind, where I leave my fingers on the stone, and I’ll never see him, he is just a rock he is just a worm; you’ve been in my mind but never knew me, I tire; death is half the stradivarius of the... Continue Reading →
Cloistral voices and footsteps Tamped and reflected Down the corridors of the Stedelijk museum and the centuries Are what I become on my bench Before all falls silent As at a crisis in a ball game After a chorus of the St. Matthew Passion in a cathedral Or at the beach after a series of... Continue Reading →
Her beauty is a compromise; At the heart of assimilation You find this knife in her face Cutting away the doubts. Her reality hangs By the heels, And by the neck; From the trees of nations, And the ropes of men. Her life is a tangle of limbs-- A classic decoration of parts-- Swinging among... Continue Reading →
I once told you that I would be the toad to your frog if you didn’t mind eating wet sandwiches with me I would have told you I had a decoder and a phone in my shoe if it meant that you would love me like a spy Turned out I don’t like to be... Continue Reading →
1 swaying sunlit spruce perpetual hope machine shadows come and go 2 cold rain, empty page darker muse’s fuzzy wings crocheted, crotchety 3 stay out of the weeds good advice for life, not art seeds cling high as knees 4 Mozart concerto violins sawing coffins teach us how to live Photo by... Continue Reading →
Footballs fly from hand to hand. But the swallow show is over. The municipal pool is shuttered. The Providence streets are cluttered with the college bound. Yellow buses flash amber and red. Leaves cling, as best they can, to their greenness. August heat dissipates. September warm feels the part. Flowers still open and close but... Continue Reading →
I dreamed again that you were dead. There was a hole in the ground and a coffin, some white flowers – you never liked white – and people I haven’t seen in 20 years. They still look the same. "It is my fault," I say and my dream-self feels like 16 again. Sometimes I can... Continue Reading →
Inaccessible words, driven to this point, madness suits the dead stars and the unfeeling universe. Love departed and depleted, it did this not to you, yet to me, thrown into terminus oblivion. This is where wolfs devour, what remains, this heartbreaks' for you, yet you have moved on, just as everyone else does. Photo by Engin... Continue Reading →
This can be called suffering. So strong and knowing This moving has become That I ache with wonder--know-- Yet, go under With its moving over me. Like angels Provoked to anger; Like pockets Of dangerous knowledge Surrendering into the depths; Yet, denying, even in death, The existence of the thing; Or that it moved, Or... Continue Reading →
Ephemeral Elegies 