Category Archives: poetry

Sylvia Plath: between poetry and painting

http://www.bu.edu/writingprogram/journal/issue-9/doomchin/   “Defining Plath While Plath is traditionally categorized as a confessional poet, critics like Howe and Davison fail to recognize the ekphrastic quality of many of Plath’s poems. As defined by the Oxford English Dictionary, ekphrasis is “a literary … Continue reading

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Every night you’re trying to come home

I wake up warm from dreams ,yet all alone Every night you’re trying to come home The shattering loss made splinters  of my bones Bandaged like a mummy, am I born? In the dream you hold my hand and run … Continue reading

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To narrow is to do what Satan knew

The first poet was the one who found the new Perception without wish to change what’s seen With wider focus showing different views Mostly we see what we wish to do A goal, a task, expectation not a dream The … Continue reading

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The affect of his choice.

How can it be he is no longer here? How can it be I do not hear that voice His presence haunts me  from his  battered chair Though I  have  money and no needs to bare I  feel the grief, the … Continue reading

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There’s something in their gaze so enigmatic

There’s something in the silence of the statues Like Bach played very quietly and true That sends a human soul into a rapture And stops us wondering what  we ought to do. There’s something in their gaze so enigmatic With … Continue reading

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Owl faced moon

Moonlight leaves a sheen like rain upon my skin; the owl asks what place I’m in? I am the place: it’s here, within, oh owl-faced moon. Jack Brae Curtingstall   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_W._Sexton

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Lonely blue

I bought more cyclamen and recalled you Wandering through wildflowers  by my side I don’t know where to put them , they might die Then I would feel so sad and lonely blue All we read of pain and love … Continue reading

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s. On the last train,Warsaw to Moscow, [ change Niegoreloje.]

Elena,a baby wrapped in woollen clothes. On the last train,Warsaw to Moscow, [ change Niegoreloje.] 1939.Father,mother,brother You passed through the Arctic Wastes of life. Still as if travelling on a train To an impossibly far destination. As you left the … Continue reading

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Old and dehydrated folk

  He put a new key in the ignition But  the orifice was damaged past derision So the car failed to start I felt grief in my heart Don’t say no plan came to fruition. The connection  for the radio … Continue reading

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