p.a.n. Poetry

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Comment by catgotwasted on May 21, 2009 at 5:38pm

Dead old cockstars,
Posing in their PVC.
The mic is like the cock they sucked
To get blown up on TV.

Comment by fanghe on May 13, 2009 at 3:25am

Thank you Samiran! :-) The best wish!

Comment by Gabriela Ene Rusu on May 5, 2009 at 3:49pm

Mi-e frica de ziua ce vine ...
Mi-e dor dupa cea care pleaca,
Ocean de tristeti am in mine
Iar timpul deloc nu mi-l seaca.
Gabriela

Comment by Samiran Dhar on May 5, 2009 at 3:28pm

friend i like this poem!!!!!!!! have a good day!

Comment by fanghe on April 6, 2009 at 7:50am

she
flies up
away
from earth
like an arrow
warm air
slipe down her body
trembling
start from fingers
to toes
further
breaking skin
covered arms to knees
bill
grows up
wings stretching
bones twisting
agony and ecstasy
permeating
in the
air

Comment by Gabriela Ene Rusu on April 4, 2009 at 3:32pm

Visit art gallery 7 stones

Comment by catgotwasted on April 3, 2009 at 1:04pm

Undressed in eyes.
Staring from afar.
Blink.
Refreshed in sightless worlds.

Comment by catgotwasted on February 9, 2009 at 5:46pm

Life and death,
Breathe a breath.
Die unknown and unloved,
Except by my little white dove.
Flights of fancy by all,
Get used to destroy us all.
You buy your goods and they turn bad.
Then you wish you never had.

Comment by Samiran Dhar on December 29, 2008 at 1:42pm

No Ambulence

A deadly
dog
beside the road
cover with fly
no one
like You or Me
there.....
even the sky
is metonymy
heee__! haaa__!
really gone over
my
night watching
Gaye!



By
samiran
visit
http://ovejaan.blogspot.com/

Comment by Yamilka Noa on November 24, 2008 at 8:35am

Tengo miedo

Qué es esta pena que siento por mí.
Este miedo a errar, a mallugar mis pétalos,
a perder el encanto de ser mariposa
y dejar de volar.
Qué es este miedo a invernar mis sueños.
A morir de a poco sin dejar una huella
de mi denuedo,
sin decirle al mundo que fui mujer triste
y más feliz que nadie.
Que viví en lo obscuro y que cegué
de tanta luz.
Que fui árbol, fui raíz,
poeta y loca.
Todo y nada.
Qué es esta nostalgia a ser Yamilka la de ayer
y la de mañana.
Qué es este sentimiento que me acorrala
y me mata.

Qué es esto.
Qué es esto.

Tengo miedo.

© Yamilka Noa

http://yamilkanoa.blogspot.com

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