Ebony lashes separate.
Say goodbye as lids
fold upwards, downwards.
Open to the windows
that show the spirit
bottled within flesh.
The fractals of irises
glint and reflect.
Pupils contract in light.
Dryness settles in.
The lashes above yearn
for the neighbors below.
They glide back down
rooted into eyelids to
greet the lashes once departed,
now entwined together.
They kiss briefly,
parting once more.
wisdom fractured minds
dimpled souls reflect kindness
little Buddhas grow
butterflies flap wings
changing seasons, changing times
dance in flight, my soul
Just a few days ago I had a poem titled “Parallel Paradise” published in an online literary magazine called FishFood Magazine. It is the first prose poem I’ve had published.
The theme of the poem is spiritual. There’s an element of religion in the piece. When I wrote it, I thought about dying and death and all the mystery that surrounds our existence. Life is suffering. Death is final. The idea of having an infinite soul and our physical being functioning as our vessel inspired me. I also embraced the notions that everything is connected and the universe is a perfect design we spend our lives trying to comprehend.
“There was a star danced, and under that I was born.”
As a baby, I climbed
out the window across the
rooftop to talk with the birds
as they chirped from the trees
letting butterflies dance about
with the changing autumn leaves.
When I was three years old,
I battled dragons in the forest
behind my house to keep them
from burning through the
vegetation that surrounded
and nourished my family.
At eight years of age, I swam
across the Caspian Sea and
let my breath bubble up in its
water alongside schools of
sturgeon after I chased ghosts
of extinct Caspian tigers.
At thirteen, I unleashed the
magic from my fingers
and lifted a collapsed skyscraper
to save the city folk trapped
beneath the concrete walls.
When I reached age fifteen,
I unearthed treasures buried
in the Reed Flute Cave past
the majestic limestone, hording the
wealth underneath my mattress.
Upon turning eighteen, I flew
into space and shifted the Earth’s
rotation around to redirect
it away from the sun saving all
life on this planet from peril.
At twenty-one, I leapt through
to another dimension, avoiding a
vortex, and found myself
suspended in another universe
preventing its collision with ours.
By the time I was twenty-four,
I ascended to another realm to rescue
the lost souls trapped in a world
of anarchy. I released them into
the heavens, catapulting myself
to the highest plane in the cosmos.
And when I reached the ripeness
of thirty years, I settled down
with an Irishman in the Antarctic.
We lived in an igloo raising
penguins while ice fishing every day.
Earlier this year, I submitted three poems to a literary magazine called The Furious Gazelle. They contacted me several months later to inform me that they loved all three. The editors published these on their website yesterday.
The titles of the poems are “A Childless Dream,” “Insomnia,” and “Immortal.” The first two poems are quite personal for me. I used my imagination to write the third.
I have done well lately with getting my poems published. I’m really excited and so proud of myself. I’m thankful for so much.
I recently had a poem titled “Legend” featured in a print publication. The anthology was a tribute to Prince published by Yellow Chair Review. This is my seventh poem published by a literary magazine.
While it is the second time a poem of mine has made it to print, it is the first time one of my poems has ever been printed within an actual book with an ISBN number and sold on Amazon.com.
I’m so happy and proud of myself!
by Edgar Allan Poe
In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed—
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.
Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?
That holy dream—that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
What though that light, thro’ storm and night,
So trembled from afar—
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth’s day-star?
Edgar Allan Poe was a creative and talented writer who used precise language and imagery in his work.
In his poem, ‘A Dream,’ he wrote it in the first person, using short and simple language expressive of his emotions. It’s a lyric poem, which is melodious like that of a song. Each of the four stanzas is a quatrain–having four lines. While there’s no discernible pattern, he used iambic rhythm throughout the poem, which consists of a metrical foot having a short syllable followed by a long syllable.
The narrator dreams of losing happiness. When he wakes up from this dream, he realizes that he’s already suffered heartbreak. He can’t let go of the past and reflects too much on it.
He compares life to dreams as if his experiences did not measure up to his expectations of life. This truth is the narrator’s real awakening. The truth, or his ‘waking dream of life and light,’ is the brightest in the sky even during the daytime. The poem ends with a question about the brightness of this reality for emphasis.