another morning pushing sounds in my head through a keyhole/ a string of letters flossing the unknown/ I can't remember their faces/ people on-line look like dandelions/ blurry round heads with
you smell like my Nana's
linen cupboard like the soap
in my mummy's secret drawer
you move
with the wind in my hair
but not as swiftly as JJ
stay still! there's a bee on the sun
I
Happy New Year from Agonia!
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English Agonia Editorial Team
smile please
the end of the world will be equally shared.
with everyone
with the loved ones who kiss you daily
in a thought they are not carried anymore
with the bad ones
who fill your
I keep my world in a cage
where my eyelashes
arrange the slaves and the kings
in no
particular
order
there are no fire exists and once you enter
you will follow the signs
all the
words self-calibrate to match my emotion
all my wires seem intact in the gas lamp glow
no one understands the strength of a potion
until they pour it inside you and they watch you blow
but
Adam, your eyes are darker today
sky before thunder
your smile hidden in clouds of thought
is it my lips? /or perhaps my thighs?/ or my breasts
is it the way I play with the other
I sit in an ordinary seat
in an ordinary office
with an ordinary will to live
and a cactus
I am surrounded by people with ordinary habits
and clothes
the window is opened at the usual
the hailstones were falling like dragons
attacking the windows of the North Tower
it was a New Moon, the beginning of a golden era,
the end of a long shift
his arm stretched, brought the sun
poems with you start like the breeze on wild shores
there's salt in each verse and their words taste
like lips smeared in chocolate
before breakfast
poems without you are houses
ripped off at night
Motto: "There's a little girl's voice that sings lullabies in my guest room closet but don't mind her; she died years ago. Here's your blanket"
the night squeezes moon juice into my dreams
and I
one by one
they are pressing the button for more
I nod and
talk to them with my mouth shut
(my mouth is full of popcorn and wisdom)
I tell them to walk through fire with grace
save your words
t’was war as we knew it
a thousand fears in a jar
labelled ‘eau de thè’
a cloud blown over our heads by no man's wind
and still turned the world that we knew
and all that you
the links pulled us into
a room with no windows,
doubts and beautiful views
I remember some of the
colours, the taste of beauty dripping on lips
a tartan blanket
chanting and laughter,
(reply)
I, too, am certain that it is harder and harder to stay afloat. The water is fast and deep and my pockets full of stones. I feel I have surrendered to a life I cannot breathe or bare or
Yes! Is that time of the year! The following event has been organised by The Poetry Society. Please read the details presented bellow by Paul McGrane and come and join us:
'From 6pm Thursday 5th
what is this tip toe dance I’m doing
around a purple room
without me moving a limb?
this pursing of lips and
imaginary fingers catching their kiss
at the other end
and this song?
I know this
and stripped of pride
I watch
beat by beat
my heart crawling towards love’s shore
a puppy in the sand
my fingers running their way
through his hair
(dangerously dark)
unfaithfully
Felix Dennis has established himself as one of the most popular and critically acclaimed poets of recent times and his poetry tours have entertained thousands of poetry lovers on both sides of the
do you follow rainbows to the end of the road
and pretend they end with a screech of the breaks
or perhaps you miss the train and convince yourself that
you were on the wrong platform or you were
it does not end
as it does not begin
is where Infinity meets Forever
and says: how d'you do
in a continuous white noise
with a touch of
Rigolleto
it tickles your pores until your skin blooms
it appears out of nowhere
and even if I guess it
or not
I pretend to be too clever
to water its roots
with lacy butterflies of hope
too busy, too awake
to walk the walk of dreams
daily
There’s a wheeze when I breath and this pain when I live
And no wonder our paths come to cross
You’re my Heaven my Hell within you I dwell
Each time my health is at loss
You’re pretty and sweet when
Audio version:
Control panel. Test 01 by Corina Gina Papouis
Statement 1.The poem bellow is false
there’s no rush in pushing dreams
one into another and watch them disappear into black holes
like