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“She wakes in a puddle of sunlight.
Her hands asleep beside her.
Her hair draped on the lawn
like a mantle of cloth.”
― Roman Payne, Hope and Despair

“I am moved by the multitudes of your intelligence and sometimes, returning, I become the sea�� in love with your speed, your heaviness and breath.”
― Frank O'Hara , Meditations in an Emergency

“She dotes on poetry, sir. She adores it; I may say that her whole soul and mind are wound up, and entwined with it. She has produced some delightful pieces, herself, sir. You may have met with her 'Ode to an Expiring Frog,' sir.”
― Charles Dickens, The Pickwick Papers

“I burn'd
And ached for wings”
― John Keats

“The scent of sunlight peers through apexes of mountains
and a compost of water hyacinths. A name for each peak,
an unfolding in each summit. As you lay awake, dreaming
for a hundred years, history speaks back to you: the living
tissue in a tree stump, musky wildflowers, open mouths of
river-streams in full force, a dab of attar from chandan trees
on your wrist.”
― Sneha Subramanian Kanta

“We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams; ��
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.

With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample a kingdom down.

We, in the ages lying,
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself in our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

A breath of our inspiration
Is the life of each generation;
A wondrous thing of our dreaming
Unearthly, impossible seeming ��
The soldier, the king, and the peasant
Are working together in one,
Till our dream shall become their present,
And their work in the world be done.

They had no vision amazing
Of the goodly house they are raising;
They had no divine foreshowing
Of the land to which they are going:
But on one man's soul it hath broken,
A light that doth not depart;
And his look, or a word he hath spoken,
Wrought flame in another man's heart.

And therefore to-day is thrilling
With a past day's late fulfilling;
And the multitudes are enlisted
In the faith that their fathers resisted,
And, scorning the dream of to-morrow,
Are bringing to pass, as they may,
In the world, for its joy or its sorrow,
The dream that was scorned yesterday.

But we, with our dreaming and singing,
Ceaseless and sorrowless we!
The glory about us clinging
Of the glorious futures we see,
Our souls with high music ringing:
O men! it must ever be
That we dwell, in our dreaming and singing,
A little apart from ye.

For we are afar with the dawning
And the suns that are not yet high,
And out of the infinite morning
Intrepid you hear us cry ��
How, spite of your human scorning,
Once more God's future draws nigh,
And already goes forth the warning
That ye of the past must die.

Great hail! we cry to the comers
From the dazzling unknown shore;
Bring us hither your sun and your summers;
And renew our world as of yore;
You shall teach us your song's new numbers,
And things that we dreamed not before:
Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers,
And a singer who sings no more.”
― Arthur O'Shaughnessy, Music And Moonlight: Poems And Songs

“The smallest part of the brain / is where something holy / resides:”
― Sneha Subramanian Kanta

“Africa is
My parentage
.... this place
Is not my home
I abide
In a land designed
.... by men
Who hate my 'tone

May the blood of my antecedents
Bless my seed
.... and may it be
Their defense
And may that blood
Forever protect
.... their truth
And their innocence

*Excerpt from:
Jacob's Ascent,
New Collected Poems by Mekael
© Mekael Shane, 2019”
― Mekael Shane

“(..)no te vayas al cielo,
alcanza
las manzanas,
no las nubes,
�����
��é�Ჹ������
ir por el cielo, irse
hacia el pasado.
��ú
eres
tu presente,
tu manzana:
��������
de tu árbol,
����á�Գٲ�����
en tu
mano,
brilla
como una estrella,
��������,
híncale el diente y ándate
silbando en el camino.”
― Pablo Neruda

“The Ballad of Philippe Petit
—for the world's greatest rope dancer

Philippe Petit hangs his high wire
in the third eye of God,
fills the dull air with blue fire,
all alone on the big city street,
Little Phillip, Philippe Petit.

Philippe Petit, high priest of daring,
feels wind pulse in his feet,
flying high on his mystical string,
between tall towers above the street.
Little Phillip, Philippe Petit.

Little Phillip by the Golden Fleece,
making Seventh Avenue sing.
He draws a magic circle of chalk,
rides his cycle around in a ring,
Little Phillip, Philippe Petit.

Little Phillip, clown gargoyle,
spewing light on the grey street,
rope dances twirling sticks of fire,
bright sparkle of the dark street,
Little Phillip, Philippe Petit.

Philippe Petit juggles fire and balls,
winks at Zeus, laughs at Mars,
pulls Newton's beard, sups with God,
cycling his way from heaven to street.
Little Phillip, Philippe Petit.

Little Phillip, when we get there,
you'll surely be on high,
juggling molecules for your maker
on the wide streets of the sky,
Little Phillip, Philippe Petit.

Philippe Petit, The King of Heaven
has a brilliant little fool
juggling fire at his footstool.
A light on the dark city street,
A light, a light, Philippe Petit.”
― Daniela Gioseffi

“There is a coastline beyond the mountain and a
mountain beyond every ocean. Sky coagulates like blood in
your body.”
― Sneha Subramanian Kanta

“Father / Today I speak to you / in a language / akin to lightness.”
― Sneha Subramanian Kanta

“Father / Today I speak to you / in a language / akin to lightness...”
― Sneha Subramanian Kanta

“A crescendo / pushing over the surface / for birth / & utterance / for red / to scatter over fields / like diphthongs / preserved with symphony notes / for earth.”
― Sneha Subramanian Kanta

“Ode To A Spider's Web by Stewart Stafford

O to dwell in the skeletal palace,
Of the spider's ceiling cobweb and,
Spy on all as none can spy on you,
An arachnid deity astride the world.

Even with many eyes to see things,
It's blind to those monstrous features,
Nimble, lean legs, as wicked fingers,
Weave a webbed masterpiece home.

Outdone by his garden cousin's web,
With backlit, bejewelled beads of dew,
Undulating in a tepid, animating breeze,
The house spider is a satisfied squatter.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved”
― Stewart Stafford

“All men are equal
Whether you are strong or weak
They let you down when things get tough. Love has nothing to do with strength
So all that matters is that you have a good heart.”
― Rifa Coolheart

“لك الحمد يا إلهي على الابتلاء قبل العطاء�� على المرض قبل الشفاء، على البيت والعراء..فلولا انكسار البيت لما دخلت علينا
�� السماء بنجومها”
― Mahdi Mansour

“بناء العقلية المتكاملة بين العلم والفن والرياضيات والهندسة والتكنولوجيا هو جل ما أسعى للوصول إليه��
لا يمكن للمرء أن يستمر بالابداع اذا أطال الوقوف أمام حرم واحد للجمال��”
― Mahdi Mansour

“والآن�� في فصل الحنينِ
وحين يعرى حزن أيلول
�� لأنسام الشتاءْ
�� ينتابني وجعٌ وأسئلةٌ
لماذا الحزن مع عين السماءْ؟
�� ولأيّ قلبٍ كلّما انهمرت سماءٌ
�� فوق أرضٍ
‎أشته�� حبّاً مضى...
�� وتفوحُ رائحةُ النساءْ��”
― Mahdi Mansour

“الساكنون بهذا القلب قد عرفوا
أن السعادة لا تعني سوى الأملِ��
كل البلاد سجونٌ غير آمنةٍ��
إلا متى وجه مَن في البال، يضحك لي!”
― Mahdi Mansour

“أجمل تجليات الله، قلوب العاشقين�� وأجمل تجليات العشق، عيون المؤمنين�� هنا حيث العشق إيمان، والحجر كالشجر، والكلام كالسلام، يجد الشعر الضوء ليخرج بانسيابية من بين أنامل الأطفال وكسور الأفئدة��”
― Mahdi Mansour

“لَكِ فُسْحَةٌ كُبْرى بِذاكِرَتي
‎فَتَحَفَّظ��, أَرْجوكِ سَيّدَتي
‎ل�� تاجَ عِنْدي...لا قصور معي...
‎حَتّ�� تَكوني أَنْتِ مَمْلَكَتي
‎ل�� تُجْهِدي عَيْنَيْكِ بي فَأَنا
‎رَجُل�� جِراحاتُ الهَوى لُغَتي
‎أُشْف�� مِنِ امْرَأَةٍ بِإِمْرَأَةٍ
‎فَأَحُلّ�� مُشْكِلَتي بِمُشْكِلَةِ��”
― Mahdi Mansour

“كل صباح أرفع كوب الماء، وأتركه.
‎هكذ�� أطمئن إلى أن العالم لم يتغير، وقوانينه ما زالت تعمل...”
― Mahdi Mansour

“لم يكن لنا أجنحة، فاعتمدنا الخيال وسيلة للسفر...
لم يكن لنا هوية، فحفرنا ملامحنا في الحجر...
لم يكن لنا وطن، فصرنا نقلّد حيث نقيم خصال الشجر��”
― Mahdi Mansour

“لأنك أمعنت شكاً وظنّا
سأذكر أجمل ما كان منا
وأمضي، فلا البحر ضمّ الشراع
ولا الريح سارت كما نتمنى
وما دمت لا تطمئن بقربي
سأرحل عنك لكي تطمئنا...”
― Mahdi Mansour

“ليتني شجرةٌ،
لا أغادر بيتي وراء الأحبة إذ يرحلونْ...
كلما حفر الناس صدري بأسمائهم،
قلت: لا بأس أن يجرٓحٓ العاشقونْ...”
― Mahdi Mansour

“لا تقترب من كثيراً...
ابتعدْ حتى أراك...”
― Mahdi Mansour

“An Ode to The Occupants of The Titan Sub

In the depths where everything is dark,

Nothing exists and one tends to lose every mark,

Of the reality that lies above,

And the memories of the ones you love,

Appear to float by like voluptuous sirens,

And you think of the benevolent Titans,

Then as the pressure mounts you hear a creaking sound,

Slowly building up inside the hollow chamber where now only fear does abound,

Then as your heart races and it does frantically pound,

You feel you are to an unknown and impending doom bound,

And you summon all your Gods in the form of your fears,

And you gauge the ferocity of all the snares,

Building from above, bottom, left and right,

It is then you hold your equally fearful companion’s hand tight,

And you remember all that you loved and those you still love,

But they are far up and above, and you are here in the abyss now,

Where darkness spreads endlessly and the creaking sound becomes louder,

And all of a sudden you feel you are hit by a titanic sized aqueous boulder,

Everything implodes, but only your heart and your memories explode,

As they surface on the horizon of perception and your loved ones rush to the abode,

Of the Gods where castles of prayers are erected,

Prayers rising from the heart that gods have not defected,

There they rush, and implore,

But the Titans become quieter and they think Gods too ignore,

The cries of the lamenting and remorseful heart,

But little do they know praying is not an art,

It is a feeling sublime and serene that arises from within,

And when expressed with sincerity in the universe its resonance does deepen,

And then Gods respond with care,

And they always say, “darling, there is nothing to fear.��

This sounds assuaging for many reasons, known and unknown,

And your kin and kith experience the familiarity in these consolations offered by the unknown,

And to the five departed adventurers of the deep sea,

I hope in their Heavenward journey, now they shall new wonders see,

And be the part of a greater adventure,

That I call the God’s enterprising venture,

As for the wonder of the abyss,

There shall always be someone who for its thrill would miss,

Anything and everything else,

Because if he/she doesn't, then he/she will be someone else,

That is why they dare to take on the Gods of the dark and deep,

Because human passion is something that into the soul does seep,

And unless tasted and confronted, this adventurer residing within the soul does not let him/her to sleep,

So let me wish the 5 adventurers all the best on their new journey,

Where there is no need for submersibles for in that world one attains natural buoyancy, and this too is one hell of a journey!

As for those woe struck loved ones still residing in the realm of gravity,

I hope they find assuaging moments in their thoughtful proclivity,

Where they notice the universe flowing through their departed and loved one,

Because every adventure is an expression of belief in love for someone,

That someone who does not fear the abyss,

That someone who dares to be the one, and never miss,

The adventures that await him/her in those unknown realms,

Where even the Titans sometimes bear signs of qualms,

There let us go and seek the knowledge that awaits to reveal itself,

Only if the adventurer believes in himself/herself,

And I think that is where all 5 adventurers can always be found,

In the realm of the Titans where knowledge does abound, where knowledge does abound!”
― Javid Ahmad Tak, They Loved in 2075!

“Thou still unravish’d shaft of breathtaking length and girth.”
― Noelle Adams, Part-Time Husband

“The Christmas Child by Stewart Stafford

O this world’s resplendent beauty,
Halting breath of sheer mortal me,
Words in my throat pause freely,
My eyes overflow involuntarily.

Salted joy’s bittersweet reign.
Sculptors can your looks ne’er feign,
The greatest reward gifted to me,
Wrenched away in coldest larceny.

Death shall hold no fear, I say,
With your sweet face to light my way,
At precipice edge, a smitten retinue,
My beloved, restored, so we continue.

© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford