Poem: Purgatory

Credit: ex & dreams by Ivan Tao

Now I understand why. Someone turns loose the winds on me
and I'm a fountain of fire, someone tosses me into the sea

and I float in a boat of flames, someone pushes me under
and my lungs implode like hydrogen blimps. Every bronchiole burns

as I fall to the sea floor. Then I notice, rising above the waves,
a confluence of birds finding formation, v-shaped as they ascend

at the same speed I sink. The air is their aviary, and at some point,
they'll shift southward as if they are coming to save me,

as if the act of being saved is worth more than the hope of it.

~ Elizabeth Onusko

Poem: Purgatory

Credit: ex & dreams by Ivan Tao

Now I understand why. Someone turns loose the winds on me
and I'm a fountain of fire, someone tosses me into the sea

and I float in a boat of flames, someone pushes me under
and my lungs implode like hydrogen blimps. Every bronchiole burns

as I fall to the sea floor. Then I notice, rising above the waves,
a confluence of birds finding formation, v-shaped as they ascend

at the same speed I sink. The air is their aviary, and at some point,
they'll shift southward as if they are coming to save me,

as if the act of being saved is worth more than the hope of it.

~ Elizabeth Onusko

Grass Accepts

Source: FreePhotosandArt.com

The grass accepts the cigarette ends & brown crawly things
thrown out of the tent.
The earth, the largest orphanage in the universe, patiently tolerates
our childish whims & antics.
Our tears & shooting at each other,
pouring salt into the fruit salad & placing bombs underneath things.
A strong wind blowing, the tent clutches the earth as tightly as a child
hangs onto its Mother’s hand. I am writing in a horizontal position, the strength
necessary to understanding this world is rising up through my stomach.
The blades of grass straining upwards point me in the right direction. Love,
Love gives us a chance to win through despite our own being.

~ Jacek Podsiadlo

Grass Accepts

Source: FreePhotosandArt.com

The grass accepts the cigarette ends & brown crawly things
thrown out of the tent.
The earth, the largest orphanage in the universe, patiently tolerates
our childish whims & antics.
Our tears & shooting at each other,
pouring salt into the fruit salad & placing bombs underneath things.
A strong wind blowing, the tent clutches the earth as tightly as a child
hangs onto its Mother’s hand. I am writing in a horizontal position, the strength
necessary to understanding this world is rising up through my stomach.
The blades of grass straining upwards point me in the right direction. Love,
Love gives us a chance to win through despite our own being.

~ Jacek Podsiadlo

Quote: Poetry

Source: Tumblr/Favim

Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out... Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure.

~ A. E. Housman

 

Quote: Poetry

Source: Tumblr/Favim

Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out... Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure.

~ A. E. Housman