Soosan Khanoom

HFB, is anyone who is against your politics

is either jealous of you or a backstabber? sister, not everyone is jealous of you or backstabber. Some of us just don't like your politics. It is plain and simple.

positive and constructive!

Lovely - and thanks. (beautiful photo, too) -- If there were more artists and poets on this site, the bickering would stop - not that I haven't come across backstabbing artists - but generally speaking, those who live via their hearts, have a better chance to be positive and constructive! 

thanks Soosan Khanoom for this lovely corner

From time to time, I see beautiful poem here and there. I have to make a point to add them here. thanks for starting this corner.

Persia / Kendall Dunkelberg

In Persia they drink tea 
only out of glass glasses; 
you can see the color that way. 
And yes, it was a woman who told me this, 
but that woman is not in this poem. 
If she were you might think that I loved her, 
which may have been true, 
but it is not in this poem.
Nor is the golf course 
where we walked out a late night winter's thaw. 
Nor the black hairs curled at her temple. 
The moon is in this poem; 
it is still a shiver in my sky. 
And the tea-- 
in this poem it is far too dark. 
There can be no pictures, 
only the taste of curried lentils and saffron rice. 
And I can feel my watch on my wrist. 
How often can you feel that? 
What if you felt all of your clothes all at once, 
all over your delicate body? 
You would be tempted to take them off, 
but there will be none of that, not in this poem, no, 
I could be wearing a parka. 
You could see my breath freeze. 
That air is in this poem, 
let me breathe it for you, 
let me taste it as it melts again my lungs. 
For I am in this poem. 
And you are in this poem. 
Now. 

.......

Dunkelberg published poem "Persia" was nominated for inclusion in the anthology "Pushcart Prize: Best of the Small Presses XXVII" in 2003. 

DIALOGUE / Leonardas Andriekus

We talk together
As if from two planets,
One south,
One north;
We speak
Of cursed todays
And blessed tomorrows,
We do not understand each other.

You tell me:
Look, what a clear dawn
Brightens the horizon
Of our fatherland's gloomy depths.
I say to you:
You dream! This is not dawn
But a glow
Signaling new flames will consume us.

You protest:
Enough of your theories –
Already we cannot see the full moon
Through our tears.
I reassure you:
Tonight we wash the full moon
With tears
That others tomorrow
Might see more clearly.

We talk together
As if from two planets –
All night we sit side by side
Before the same fire.
Tell me:
What separates the heavens
Of the north and south
To fork such lightning in your eyes?