Tag Archives: poem

I’ve discovered the meaning of life by Abigail George

The air is sweet here, and I am filled

    with a sudden longing for you. It just
    didn’t work out and you’re a ghost now
    from novel memory. I feel the stillness
    of the stars through me. And I wait, and
I wait for the exit out. I thought I would
break but I didn’t. The sun glares and
suns1_400glares and glares at me, while the love of
my life stares me down. Veins branch
out in my heart, but I am still me. I think
of the greenness of the day, the ochre
found in the environment, the energy found
in the day, and the photosynthesis that
takes place. At times like this I like to
think of the rain. How it washes my sins
and dirt and dust away leaving us pure
and clean. The lion-eye of the sky blue-
vital and clear as day to me. I think of
first loves, and purpose. I think of the child’s
small back, brown neck, dark eyes, his
love for raisins that I don’t have. I think
of genetics, illness in the family, his sunburned face. The
bridges he will have to cross one-day in
the future. I think of the fists that he
makes when he is angry, when he cries out
when he’s frustrated, and I wonder to
myself if I did that when I was his age. Yes,
I think of his moon eyes. His dark-brown
hair cut into a Mohawk-style. I think of
how I can write a book about his energy.
His soul is the Pacific. My brother is (everything to me)
stronger than I am. I’ve learned from my parents
that you can only marry someone who
is your equal. Intellect must match like

a pattern found in the ocean-sea, a
wave, an ohm, time, vibration. The match must
flow like the river flows into the sea. Together
my parents have achieved this imperfect
life. A love that I’ve searched for my entire
life. But I searched for this life in the dark,
falling into the dark finding imbalance
when I closed my eyes. I burned my fingers.
Salt and light in my eyes. Maybe it was
a blessing in disguise that I never found
the love of my life, settled down to raise
a family, had those children. That I write
now instead of having everything else.

*******************************************
Abigail George has two books in the Ovi Bookshelves,
“All about my mother” & “Brother Wolf and Sister Wren”
Download them, NOW for FREE HERE!

life_06_400

Ovi magazine

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under ovi magazine, poetry

The fall by Bohdan Yuri

The skin touches, the flesh burns;
jerks from fearing singes,
fragile is its thought.
inclination presses on, confirmed,
planted by sure reason.
smothered in bright chrome,
dare again before it’s cold.
confused, our complex circuit
of stirred up reaction.

again, such tempered seasons
contest our barest struggles,
unfolding truths which lead astray
our most transparent of ways.
battle we must, such delicate skin,
choosing truth or impulse stains,
tear me from the surface brim,
either way, the play can strain,
choose again each whittled day.

skin_400

Leave a comment

Filed under ovi magazine, poetry

Compare & Contrast by Saloni Kaul

Hard and brittle,
rigid and unyielding
as cast iron ,

opposit_400A strange
dense-textured awning
cloaks the burden
of the goods .

In this very place,
wondering, malleable
as glass,
impressionable
as waiting wax,

I stand
as bold as a lion ,
the king of the jungle.

Leave a comment

Filed under ovi magazine, poetry

Below by Jan Sand

The surface of the sea
Chipped into hollows by the wind
Waves whitecaps back at me.
I am fixed ashore, pinned
To a static spot to watch the dance
Of liquid edges roiled in ecstasy
At the caress of the air to glance
On surface sensitivity, emoting fantasy.

below01Below this infinite quadrille,
Untouched by playful atmosphere,
A steady blue-green note does fill
The drowned eye and the ear
With the silent sound of the deeps
Wherein shadowed predators
In lazy body twists and snakey leaps
Exert the rights of conquerors.

Shoals of shining scales flash in this night,
Coordinate in disciplined precision.
Edge on dim, then suddenly all bright,
In single mind decision.

More alien than something from the stars,
A nest of tentacles makes its way on bottom sand
To touch and test all fissures. Nothing mars
Its intensive curiosity, the tentacle more agile than the hand.

Shell arthropods on needle legs with pincer tips
Troop in pizzicato caravans,
Antennae waving gaily in swoops and dips,
Surveyed from above by hungry clans.

Outside the traveled paths
Beneath the gloom of submerged cliffs
Far in time and space from human wraths
A pirate skull stares at underwater riffs
Which play and replay quantum terrors.
Doubloons in dotted lines scribble on the sand
Tales of violence and greedy errors.
Now lies in peace beyond desire and demand.

Leave a comment

Filed under ovi magazine, poetry

Richest Man In The World by Nikos Laios

I sat in
The darkness
And looked out
Through a window
At the green paddocks
And rusted silos and tractors,
And the white flaking paint
Of the old wooden house
Next door under the moonlight.

richestman_400The only bar
In town was packed,
And the neon signs
Advertising various
Alcohol glowed
Behind the bar
Reflecting in the mirror,
The beer flowed,
And the town’s folk were
Dressed in their Sunday
Best listening to folk music.

This town had seen
Its heyday but globalism
Had killed it off and the
Townsfolk knew it,
But they clung on
Bravely and spent
The few dollars
They had to spare
In that bar once a week,
Where they all
Gathered together to
Drink, laugh and dance
And forget about
Their daily woes
For one night.

I thought about
All those city-folk
In their apartments
And their cold brick
Houses in the big cities
Eating their TV dinners
In front of the television
On trays by themselves,
And I wondered
Who really had
It better?

I thought about
Escaping to the
Big cities when
I was much younger
To find my fortune,
But I stayed in
The county town
That I loved.

I knew everyone
In town and was
Either directly or
Indirectly related
To a fair few of them.

We celebrated all
Our joys together,
Consoled each other
In our moments of grief,
Celebrated our festivals
And had belief in our hearts,
And if someone needed help
We never left them alone.

I had a plate of
Hot food on the table
Everyday, people that loved
Me and a place that I had
Deep roots in.

I would sit on the mountaintops
Many times and take in the view
Of the valleys below and the
Blue-coloured mountain peaks
Disappearing like steps into
The mist and over the horizon,
And the majesty
Of that wild raw beauty
And the silence of the valleys
Would take my breath away,
Especially under the stars
At night.

I would rather live
In a dying country town
Than a soulless
Cold city.

I had no use for gadgets,
iPhones, lottery tickets,
Fashion, takeaway food,
Cable television subscriptions,
Social media,
The urine-beer soaked
Back-alleyways of big cities,
Or the luxury of an existential
Crisis of identity.

For I knew who I was
And where I belonged;
I had my green paddocks
And rusted silos and tractors,
And the one bar in town
Where everyone that I have ever
Loved was in there right now
And they’re waiting for me
To join them, and at that
Moment I felt like the
Richest man in the world.

*******************************************************

With a digital drawing from Nikos Laios

*******************************************************

Check Nikos Laios’ EBOOK
Ida & Her Magic Camera
is online now and you can download for FREE HERE!
life_41_400

Ovi magazine

Leave a comment

Filed under ovi magazine, poetry

Western World by Nikos Laios

He stood outside
With the snow
Falling on his
Bloodied face
And was
Breathing
Heavily.

wester001The snow
Cleansed
His tired soul,
And he wiped
His face with
His scarred hands
And looked up
At the winter night,
And the city
Was sleeping.

He had
Become a
Street fighter
And slept
In abandoned
Basements
When the
Money was
Tight between
Fights.

He used to live
In the suburbs once:
Had a wife,
Two kids
And a picket
Fence.

Missed
The mortgage
Payments,
Lost his job:
And the bank,
His wife
And the city
Chewed him
Up and spat
Him out
When he
Outlived his
Usefulness.

He was replaced
By the new-wave
Of the future boys,
Slept on the streets,
And became a ‘bum’
And a street fighter,
And came to the
Realisation
That the life
He once had
Was a fragile
Illusion.

He took
A swig
Of scotch
From a bottle
Wrapped in
A paper bag,
And the snow
Fell on his face,
Held the bottle
Up to the sky
And drank
To the progress
Of the western
World.

*******************************************************

With a digital drawing from Nikos Laios

*******************************************************

Check Nikos Laios’ EBOOK
Ida & Her Magic Camera
is online now and you can download for FREE HERE!
life_41_400

Ovi magazine

Leave a comment

Filed under ovi magazine, poetry

Kiss and sky by Moustafa Al Yassin

Cloud larger than kiss
kiss larger than sky
so the evening pass
near your eyes
and the wondering little birds, slept near your wonder
kissI have the best moment to confess
to draw a traveler dream in our smiling earth
but
the dream raid over wailed horse saddle

does it help to be on this earth
I am sometimes here
but mostly there
every thing in me there
even my last hug
it is here from there
you may ask god and angels and the seventh sky
all can tell you
this cloud it has rain and this sky it has kiss
and the moment is not yet to say goodbye

Leave a comment

Filed under ovi magazine, poetry