How can I pick the days of anger out of a field of happiness?

By Alexandria Somirs

Animosity’s repression dug a hole,

 I’m quite sure,

 And soon there, took residence, a contentable mole.

He lived there quite happily,

The earth above pounded with distracted footsteps,

Too quick, too impatient to let live small similes.

And down below his dependable nose,

He felt the humid silence, from where questions were posed.

“Of all the seeds that were bedded,

Of which were of anger?”

Animosity answered, “the seeds of which were buried the deepest,

The ones least likely to flower,

The ones most likely to sour,

And spoil the earth of their weeded source,

And set the field afire with their selfish course.”

Satisfied, the mole posed another question.

“Of all the seeds that were bedded,

Of which were of happiness?”

Animosity answered, “The seeds that lie on the surface, the ones I’ve not bedded,

The ones least likely to stay content in the earth and lie,

The ones most likely to shoot up to the sky,

The ones that bloom with the sun,

And feel lighter than an elephant ton.


Photo by Alexandria Somirs

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At Home in Mowbray

By Sebastian Temlett

                                                             She visited my room today

Falling gently on my wallF1060026 (2)

She touches my sheets, my skin

Complete and soft in her embrace

Allowing for the hard shadows

That spring up behind each

Lump and bump

Each imperfection

                                                                  The texture of lives

She has passed through cloudF1040002

Thick and set

And below, each rising

Wisp before the mountain face

Extends a ghostly arm

In plaintive plea

Then snarls into monstrosity

As its vapours find their end

and trail out

 

And swallows dance their belies full

Above powerlines and hard edged roofs

As people hole up inside

With stucco hearts and

Lonely conversation

 

And she emerges as she falls

So gently on my pillow now

As it begins to rain outside


Photo by Sebastian Temlett

It Changed My Life a Little

By Issac Sullivan 

ephemeral wave
came and went quickly
thinkin’ ‘bout it still

 

followin the schedule
trusting the rhythm we’re in
till a wave took me

 

landed again soon
still feel the cloudy residue
eternal time too

 

now I see Earth build
humanity into it
not the other way

 

thought came with the wave
right on Earth to Earth live live
so needed the life


Photo by Alexandria Somirs

Buchenwald

By Fabiano Soares

I was born in 1929 in Dresden,

As I grew older, my parents were rebuilding the country

Next to millions of others survivors and migrants

Skins of all shades, religions of all liturgies…

And we use to hear on the radio:

 

– We need to save our nation – they said.

– We need to clean our nation. – And that sounded so right.

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The Way Back Home

By Amedeus Somirs

Watching the yellow-orange bangs sweep past me overhead, all along walking away from the fire in the sky.

Ahead….lay paths and ways yet to be unveiled, the further I go the darker it gets, as the sun sinks beneath the horizon.

Still curious,…I decide to go on.

Fields on the right of me and vineyards on the left of me, and up ahead hang overhead wires between metal monsters. As I pass underneath them, I pause for a moment and hear a loud buzzing sound, as if …to warn me to move along and not stay for too long…and so I go on.

What I was looking for was a sign or a street to tell me where I was and how far I had gone. On top a hill, just a bit further down the country road, I could see in the distance, lights from a distant village. Intrigued of what may lay there I went on into the ever darker path ahead. Finally I came to a crossroads and on the sign it said the name of the village.

Satisfied.

I turned back and to my amazement there was still light in the sky. With my two faithful companions at hand we went back,…direction home. Daytime grew smaller and smaller as I stood watching the last of the daylight drain from the sky. Meanwhile, behind me more and more twinkling gems where unveiling themselves from the darkening heavens. Almost home, and the only light now that shines down from above is that of a sliver of moon,…

just bright enough to give me a shadow.


 

Photo by Alexandria Somirs

Weary Wings

By Amedeus Somirs

Crossing seas of opportunities,

Stride by stride making our way through.

Looking down into the abyss…

Uncertain where to go.

Feeling tempted to go further,

While lost memories from distant past,

Want to keep you,

Hold you back.

Your heart beats strong and bold,

Reminding you to keep a hold.

Don’t you worry, don’t you fear.

For anywhere you may be,

No matter how far or near,

You’ll always find your way back home.

You’ve felt it

Just how free,

Freedom really feels.

Don’t feel weary of the wind

Beneath your wings.

Trust the way it flows,

You’ll discover so much more.

Keep you head held high,

Reaching for the sky.

Nothing can stop you now,

So don’t come crashing,

Down

Upon

Yourself.


Photo by Alexandria Somirs