Poetry Competition Ends 14th June 2023 12:02pm
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Østavind \The Wind from the East
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
The Sound of the Wind
Your shadow
(immune to wind)
pass by me
and remains unharmed
in slow step.
Your quiet shadow
(no colors)
revolves
on the stones
of this floor!
Your shadow
(deep gray)
is the flag
from an unknown country
fluttering in the wind!
I scream
(mouth wide open)
at the top of the ravine
your most intimate name
and the wind
does not recognize
the sound of my voice.
I run
(with eyes closed)
the labyrinth
of your overwrought thoughts
by objects of oblivion
and what the memory keeps of you
and from the ground you trod.
I chase your shadow
(discrete projection)
for all the places where I imagine you
to hide and emit the echoes
that the wind steals from me.
(immune to wind)
pass by me
and remains unharmed
in slow step.
Your quiet shadow
(no colors)
revolves
on the stones
of this floor!
Your shadow
(deep gray)
is the flag
from an unknown country
fluttering in the wind!
I scream
(mouth wide open)
at the top of the ravine
your most intimate name
and the wind
does not recognize
the sound of my voice.
I run
(with eyes closed)
the labyrinth
of your overwrought thoughts
by objects of oblivion
and what the memory keeps of you
and from the ground you trod.
I chase your shadow
(discrete projection)
for all the places where I imagine you
to hide and emit the echoes
that the wind steals from me.
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
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Anonymous
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Det Er Aldri Så Galt At Det Ikke Er Godt for Noe!
"I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is from the east,
I know a hack from a handsaw."
-- a melancholy poet in being not of Norway
though still of a madness with method in't
*
His singing handsaws of glissandos sound a soulful schmaltz
of tones ethereal which Nordic moose entice to waltz
while plop the falling hails to but a touch of fingernails
along the harp to hot beguile the Sperm and Humpback whales
as hollowed, willow-banded Viking lurs of silver firs
make stand on end the furs of farmers' livestock, sheep, and curs
till scoops ascend to yet the onset of celestial notes
with still each embouchure achieved to thrill Norwegian goats!
O, Kjell! Such riddled mazes full of winds the world inspire --
and when thine own wind eastern blows, it sets my lyre afire!
*
a dedication of Respect
for
Respect Earned
a revolving helios rhyme menippean satire on
relevant ancient instruments
and novel puns
may, 2023 -- yet also of major worldwide significance
an intoxicating renascence of the tongs and the bones --
along with the musical spoon
I know a hack from a handsaw."
-- a melancholy poet in being not of Norway
though still of a madness with method in't
*
His singing handsaws of glissandos sound a soulful schmaltz
of tones ethereal which Nordic moose entice to waltz
while plop the falling hails to but a touch of fingernails
along the harp to hot beguile the Sperm and Humpback whales
as hollowed, willow-banded Viking lurs of silver firs
make stand on end the furs of farmers' livestock, sheep, and curs
till scoops ascend to yet the onset of celestial notes
with still each embouchure achieved to thrill Norwegian goats!
O, Kjell! Such riddled mazes full of winds the world inspire --
and when thine own wind eastern blows, it sets my lyre afire!
*
a dedication of Respect
for
Respect Earned
a revolving helios rhyme menippean satire on
relevant ancient instruments
and novel puns
may, 2023 -- yet also of major worldwide significance
an intoxicating renascence of the tongs and the bones --
along with the musical spoon
Written by Jordan
(D.O.C.)
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