The silver swan, who living had no note, When death approached unlocked her silent throat, Leaning her breast against the reedy shore, Thus sung her first and last, and sung no more: Farewell all joys, O death come close mine eyes, More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise. … Continue reading An Analysis of ‘The Silver Swan’ by Anon
Between Clay and Star is the first major poetry translation book I have read and much to my surprise, it was quite pleasurable to read. The title is taken from a line of Liliana Ursu 'Harmonia Mundi' which reads'At the border between Clay and Star...' The variety in this book was amazing. We had a … Continue reading Book Review: Between Clay and Star (Various Writers and Translators)
Like a peacock spreading its feathers, I span out my feelings. Like hands holding each other, I long for this meaning. Like petals to a flower, I seek my purpose and beauty. In this very hour, Acceptance will be by duty.
Look at my glass house but don't throw stones For sticks and stones may break my home. This fragile abode with a transparent gaze, Often leaves people amazed. So you see my in's and out. A glass house is like a vase. Prized. Fragile. Ornamented. Look deeper and you'll see my fears. For I was … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirty Two- The Glass House By Hannah Williams
At a cross way with a cold chorus, Promise was left to be pious. On the right hand of promise was the infallible good. On the left hand of promise was the infallible bad. For Promise has the power to snap your decisions into two. So be benign when you, Cross your heart and hope … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Nine- Limbo In A Promise By Hannah Williams
What The Dead Know By Donte Collins (2017) lately, when asked how are you, i respond with a name no longer living Rekia, Jamal, Sandra, Philando i am alive by luck at this point, i wonder often: if the gun will unmake me is yet made, what white birth will bury me, how many bullets, like … Continue reading An Analysis Of ‘What The Dead Know By Heart’ By Donte Collins
I looked into her eyes and smiled. But what could smiling prove. When I could see me in her eyes. So my smiles were just lucid lies. Even though I could recognise her in me. My misconceptions were flying free. The hums of her cry is my lullaby, that wakes me up at night. But … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Four- The State Of Mind By Hannah Williams
You will hear thunder and remember me, And think she wanted storms. The rim Of the sky will be the color of hard crimson, And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire. That day in Moscow, it will all come true. When, for the last time, I take my leave, And hasten … Continue reading An Analysis of ‘ You Will Hear Thunder And Remember Me’ By Anna Akhmatova
Lost. In the deep sea of my own desire. In the fortitude of peace my soul longs to retire. Hope is the song my voice wants to acquire. Inhaling the laziness of my acts as I respire. Toxic To the progression around me. The doubtful thoughts of my mind roam free. Let my thoughts just … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty Two- The Stages of Negativity By Hannah Williams
Dreams soar high on the mountain top. Holding onto hope so it never drops. Liberty flowing in harmony with the river bed. Calling courage to forget what the valley said. This is the hopes and dreams of men. Forever, now and even then. Waiting for the fortitude of the unspoken. Healing the sorrows of the … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty One- The Dreamers Song By Hannah Williams
Heavy with child belly an arc of black moon I squat over dry plantain leaves and command the earth to receive you in my name in my blood to receive you my curled bean my tainted perfect child my bastard fruit my seedling my sea grape my strange mullato my little bloodling Let the snake … Continue reading An Analysis Of ‘In My Name’ By Grace Nichols
A dream is a living legacy which cannot be killed by death. Transcends emancipation. It transcends liberty. In fact, it transcend freedom. That I can hope for freedom within my constraints. He taught me. In the content of your character lies the change. That after death your legacy can live on. The man with a … Continue reading Sunday Stanza: Poem Twenty- What The Dream Taught Me By Hannah Williams
