A beautiful mind – Devika Mathur

 

I feel a sudden twitch today,
Blue as this cold dead water ripple.
Flavored sniffs of nocturnal touches of laughter,
all wrapped in the thin film of a small garden,
watching,
watching me like a ghost.

Liquids.
My body is one today, floating in abysmal.
Plagiarism of mouth often haunts my brain.
And each time, i pick up my fallen canvas of dreams,
emptying, filling, emptying…
the process takes a day or a night.
I am broken like complete poetry.

There is a method of how I decay.
I believe it is the greatest notion.
the greatest form of art, you should learn.
I hear it,
the drumming windows of that ghost.
I feel abortions, thousand of them in my belly, like that.

And then there is my mirror,
hollow, small, flowing.
a twig of spring inside my mouth,
popping up to show my mind,
a beautiful mind.

I Knew My Pain – Aurora Phoenix

I knew my pain when it was a screeching

sunset

spurting cotton candy carnage

across the feathered heavens

mocking all that is soft and soothing

drawing my gaze

up and up, tearstained

\thundering scarlet refrains\

reverberating clang of your loss.

I knew my pain when it was a snarling

saber-tooth

birthed of my rent ventricles

spewing aortic dirges

feasting on festering anguish

\clamorous gluttony\

heartache grew fangs

fueled on midnight howling

and my heart gnawed raw itself.

I knew my pain when it was a stinging

nettle

clinging needy-puppy to my shins

\all scratch and scrape reminders\

of the bite that replaced the soul

in the deep chocolate of your iris.

I knew my pain when it was creeping

ivy

camouflaged among wistful greening

arisen from the fetid heap

\itching a glitch in my hopeful healing\

tendrils sneak snake-oil slick

renders my skin hopeless raw

where it lingered

in the shadow of your touch.

I knew my pain when it was tempered

steel

inlaid with soulful etchings

\mother of my surviving pearl soul\

I raise the blades coated

in my fevered blood

hammered now, the plowshares

of my hard- won stance.

Courage…-Eric Syrdal

Courage ES

Shall I tell you what she does for me?
Shall I show you the blisters on her hands?
Where She has held my heart,
Aflame with passion’s rage
Shall you see?
how Her tender cheek,
Bears the tracks of ink tears
Which She sheds for what I can not produce
On this page
Even though I lay the book open and pour out
A deluge upon the leaves
She, alone, stands in the dark with me
I can feel Her air near me
And I do not shiver in the black
She will take my rough hands
Into the velvet fortresses of Her own
And though my heart trembles
And though I am tired
And though there is much I fear
I will feel Her against my lips
I will taste Her kiss
And my pen will, once again,
speak of Her beauty


Eric Syrdal is an independent poet/author. He’s an avid gamer and Sci-Fi enthusiast. He enjoys reading science fiction and fantasy literature and spends a great deal of his writing time focused in those genres. He is from New Orleans, Louisiana, where he lives with wife and two children.  You can read more Eric’s writing at My Sword and Shield….