Memories of old 29 October 2023
Clenching jaws follow new-found laws Blast to cause breath in pause raking fingers turned to claws revealing the flaws We diffuse the powers to use Golden hues fragrant dews a conflagration to choose aching sunset bruise Bodies hold memories of old tales untold lo behold they speak of the soul once sold for silver, not gold Reading of the poem:
Kyrie - Antaeus
Ashes for daughters 21 October 2023
She walks slow life bundled on back Agony her fiefdom, mind scattered throughout waters, thoughts a procession They deal blow never cut her slack Trinity not random house as their hearts lurch hospital and church Two may die May they ever live to forgive fathers’ tales, she cries as her lung inhales ashes for daughters Reading of the poem:
Spanoudakis- Prosopa
All blood same red lace 15 October 2023
Harbinger of erased nation A death toll on both sides leads nowhere as the fear rides to uneven poll the clock strikes unequal death chimes we surmount the war crimes our memory a closed tap bodies our minds wrap Live cocoons shelter vivid thoughts unwilling uncaring we see not what then transpired as thousands expired Fed through spoons weather-beaten words Flimsy talks forceful walks to the other side of hope a yearning to cope Warning call lost time to recall regret stitched intimate within layers of the brain lesson to retain The legs pace unknown surfaces riddled lanes absorb pains of humanity’s disgrace all blood same red lace Reading of the poem:
Yael Deckelbaum - Prayer Of The Mothers
My sins are washed clean 4 June 2023
Hear now hark My voice brings lustre To gateways Within Earth Igniting throughout the dark My body a spark Surrender I am stark Angel Avenger Rebel son To the bright seat contender Holy pretender I may lean Both sides admit me I foster Renegades My wings are repelling blades My sins are washed clean Reading of the poem:
Dimash - SOS | 2021
The heart grows weary 2 June 2023
Centuries float by as I sit on my knees in prayer The bosom silent slayer of my withered dreams Weaving streams my lids’ waters flow The heart beats as they grow Mind knows of timeless defeats as it caves down slow Death repeats riddles of my spleen Now washed clean they glimmer in incandescent shimmer revive the unseen Yesterday impossible time I woke up to a rhyme it rang within me a bell solitary chime I lived lives etched in galaxies cosmic rings shaking me Wedded to the law of three sacred in me sings Tomorrow whisper that arrives when mouth drives widowed wives As the eye watches teary the heart grows weary Reading of the poem:
Vitas - Heart | Витас - Сердце (2016)
In Heavens’ voices 6 May 2023
They offered a wane chance to go beyond Time back before when the seedlings were no more and clocks conjured space They compel from dark clouds revel The rain fell in Bahrain drawing circles of my pain tattooed in my wrists Mind desists from chance to relive I forgive past choices The soul in me rejoices in heavens’ voices Reading of the poem:
Ascetic mood – Dhafer Youssef
The light spilling fast 24 March 2021
Cavernous shadows sight my eyes I follow dark inside A dialog between us overcomes cobwebs Thought expressed ringing through my head the message sits clumsy an attempt to understand meanings of half light Piercing ray resounding echo burning through retina the stratosphere now reckons the light spilling fast Reading of the poem:
Stive Morgan - Melancholy
Under your bright sun
21 May 2020
Daffodils
Spilling in the rain
The garden
Now awash
Flowers and fruit all laden
A feast for your eyes
Your features
Bright and definite
Like the love
Infinite
Gushing through the sentences
Composed by the heart
My shadow
Under your bright sun
Towards which
I now run
Happiness is not mere word
Expression unheard
Reading of the poem:
Half the Perfect World – Madeleine Peyroux
I am gone
30 March 2020
Did you see ?
The ripple-clad lake
In shining
Replicates
The wonders that we can be
When we’re pacified
Speak to me
The birds have lost songs
Their beaks blue
Like my soul
My mind relinquished control
The lack in your words
Hone me slow
Caress my feathers
I am gone
In song shrill
Birds calling on window sill
They follow shadows
Reading of the poem:
Within – Winter Aid
The Woven Life 2 : Bubbles of liberty
19 March 2020
She wove conscientiously the points keeping in mind most of the time the greatest good of all. She knew that some of what she wove would not be witnessed in her time but in eons to come. Other parts of what she wove were for immediate results or results on the short or medium term. In the beginning it had been disappointing that the desires she had did not have an immediate resolution but she had learnt to accept this. She looked upon her task as a humanitarian one as she was weaving a better consciousness. She wondered how many out there were like her weaving a better series of connections into the collective consciousness.
Sometimes, her old shadows returned and she would need to stop the weaving during those days. That could mean no weaving for several days in a row. She always wondered whether her consciousness would still be connected so closely with the collective consciousness to affect it in a significant way or if these days of absence would have weakened the contact. Every time she had such doubts they were dispelled immediately when she returned to weave for the greatest good of all and saw the almost immediate results. She wondered how she could cope with her shadow selves to bring them out to the light and no longer have to sit in between all the time. This would allow her to keep weaving every day instead of having to make a pause.
One day she caught herself talking to one of her shadow selves that had strayed into the room. It was no longer lurking behind her as they always tended to do when they manifested, watching her, thinking she was unaware of their presence or pretending they thought that. She normally would only observe them and try to fill them with light but they would take cover, literally and refuse to be dissolved most of the time although she had been able to lighten a couple of them. Today however, she decided to talk to the one who had unwittingly strayed into the room.
She thought to herself that she must be right. She should perhaps leave them these bubbles of liberty.
Björk – jóga / State of Emergency
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