The Poetry of Emotion
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 →
Parched dry, fill this desert with tears the drifting wind carries your scent the stillness echoes our forgotten names time bears the ash of our memories. Photo by Dexter Fernandes 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... Continue Reading →
Not personal but business, the set of circumstances that brought the orbits of our planets together through decades worth of solar storms like the links of logic in a Venn diagram. With the area of your aura defined and spoken for, I can only drop a throwaway line into the ether or an ever so... Continue Reading →
Maybe I want to cry but my body is not inclined to do so. My fingers mistype; my neurons misfire. Words provide no relief; words are all I have. Peripherally from my pillow I see indistinct numbers; laterally gazing, they disappear from the clock: I am stuck between time's unintelligible representation and its indiscernible reality.... Continue Reading →
I never could master The use of wings Nor is it something any bird could teach me With a flight IQ of 20 My envy of seagulls Is bitter and intense I stand on the ground Watching them veer and circle Wishing myself aloft But flapping wildly I fall from the sidewalk into the canal... Continue Reading →
Ephemeral Elegies 