poetry

poetry

Just EnoughSoil for legsAxe for handsFlower for eyesBird for earsMushrooms for noseSmile for mouthSongs for lungsSweat for skinWind for mind

Just EnoughSoil for legsAxe for handsFlower for eyesBird for earsMushrooms for noseSmile for mouthSongs for lungsSweat for skinWind for mind

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

I suppose that's how it looks in prose. But it's very different if you look at it through poetry…and I think it's nicer…' Anne recovered herself and her eyes shone and her cheeks flushed… 'to look at it through poetry.

I suppose that's how it looks in prose. But it's very different if you look at it through poetry…and I think it's nicer…' Anne recovered herself and her eyes shone and her cheeks flushed… 'to look at it through poetry.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Songs of myselfClear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.

Songs of myselfClear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Where even ravi (the sun) cannot reach, there will go a kavi (poet)." - Vimalananda

Where even ravi (the sun) cannot reach, there will go a kavi (poet)." - Vimalananda

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

My heart in the East But the rest of me far in the West— How can I savor this life, even taste what I eat? How, in the bonds of the Moor, Zion chained to the Cross, Can I do what I’ve vowed to and must? Gladly I’d leave All the best of grand Spain For one glimpse of the ruined Shrine’s dust.

My heart in the East But the rest of me far in the West— How can I savor this life, even taste what I eat? How, in the bonds of the Moor, Zion chained to the Cross, Can I do what I’ve vowed to and must? Gladly I’d leave All the best of grand Spain For one glimpse of the ruined Shrine’s dust.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Recuerdo que algún día yo le hablé de mi río y una como tormenta se agitó en sus estrañas. No sé si fue mi pecho que tembló de recuerdo o si fueron mis ojos que asomaron nostalgias." "I remember a day when I spoke of my river and something like a storm stirred in his being. Was it my breast that trembled with the memory Was it nostalgia that showed through my eyes

Recuerdo que algún día yo le hablé de mi río y una como tormenta se agitó en sus estrañas. No sé si fue mi pecho que tembló de recuerdo o si fueron mis ojos que asomaron nostalgias." "I remember a day when I spoke of my river and something like a storm stirred in his being. Was it my breast that trembled with the memory Was it nostalgia that showed through my eyes

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

But he never forgot how once by not knowing time,He escaped into the clockless land of ever,Where time hides tick-less waiting to be born.

But he never forgot how once by not knowing time,He escaped into the clockless land of ever,Where time hides tick-less waiting to be born.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

You and those shot-glass eyes, deep swirling pools of 80-proof firewater, with the depth and profundity of Saturn’s spinning pulsars…

You and those shot-glass eyes, deep swirling pools of 80-proof firewater, with the depth and profundity of Saturn’s spinning pulsars…

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

ink marks the page/where you execute your will like a doe announcing an/ox-stern mate with a single, bleary blink.

ink marks the page/where you execute your will like a doe announcing an/ox-stern mate with a single, bleary blink.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

He calls me desperate (on my tombstone)I hope poetic license will allow: HUNGRY

He calls me desperate (on my tombstone)I hope poetic license will allow: HUNGRY

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Behold yon rough and flinty roadWhere youth, now youth no more,Gropes whining, seeking crumbs of loavesHe cast away of yore.

Behold yon rough and flinty roadWhere youth, now youth no more,Gropes whining, seeking crumbs of loavesHe cast away of yore.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

The future belongs to all who, refusing to look back at the past move ahead with the clock as it ticks.

The future belongs to all who, refusing to look back at the past move ahead with the clock as it ticks.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

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