If one rainy night you find yourself
leaving a phone booth, and you meet a man
with a lavender umbrella, resist
your desire to follow him, to seek
shelter from the night in his solace.
Later, don’t fall victim to the Hypnotist’s
narcotic of clarity, which proves
a curare for the heart; her salve
is merely a bandage, under which memories
pulse. Resist the taste for something still
alive for your first meal; resist the craving
for the touch of a hand from your past.
We live some memories,
and some memories are planted. There’s
only so much space for the truth
and the fabrications to spread out
in one’s mind. When there’s no more
space, we grow desperate. You’ll ask
if practicing love for years in your mind,
prepares you for the moment,
if practicing to defend one’s life
is the same as living? You’ll
hole up, captive, in a hotel room
for fifteen years and learn to find
a man within you, which will prove
a painful introduction to the trance
into which you were born. Better
to stay under the spell of your guilt,
than to forget; you’ve already released
your pain onto the world; don’t believe
there’s some joy in forgetting.
There’s no joy in the struggle to forget.
And what appears as an endless verdant field,
only spreads across a building’s rooftop;
your peaceful sleep could be a fetal position,
which secures you in a suitcase in this field.
A bell rings, and you fall out of this luggage
like clothes you no longer fit. Now what to do?
You remember when you were the man
who fit those clothes, but you’ve forgotten this
world. Even forgotten scenes from your life,
leave shadows of the memory,
haunting your spirit
until, within a moment’s glance,
strangers passing you on the street,
observe history in your eyes. Experience
lingers through acts of forgetting,
small acts of love or trauma
falling from the same place. Whether
memory comes in the form of a stone
or a grain of sand, they both sink in water.
A tongue—even if it were, say, sworn
to secrecy; or if it were cut from one’s mouth;
yes, even without a mouth to envelop
its truth—the tongue continues to confess.
A few random poems:
- Владимир Британишский – Лето 1845 года в Соколове
- Kore by Robert Creeley
- There Pass the Careless People poem – A. E. Housman
- Night dyes its hair by Vladimir Marku
- Deftly, Admiral, Cast Your Fly by W H Auden
- Hippo’s Hope by Shel Silverstein
- Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep by Mary Frye
- Apologize by Miraj Patel
- Hunger and Thirst by Muhammad Dawood Jan
- Николай Глазков – Девятое мая
- On The Death Of The Vice-Chancellor, A Physician (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper
- I’m My Own Grandpa by Shel Silverstein
- Love Sonnet XXXV poem – Zora Bernice May Cross poems
- Владимир Британишский – От низменного к неземному
- Dedication For A Plot Of Ground by William Carlos Williams
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- The Mystic Isle by Rainbow Reed
- Spiritual Memories of Mother by Raj Napal
- Primrose Rose by Rainbow Reed
- Prayers by Rainbow Reed
- This by Ralph Angel
- Man in a Window by Ralph Angel
- Breaking and Entering by Ralph Angel
- Online Lover by Rainbow Reed
- One Day You Will Miss Me.. by Rahul S
- Of Love and All by Raja Mannar
- Mother Teresa by Raj Napal
- Mother by Sachin Yadav (Pen Name: Rahul Nachhiketa)
- Journey with God by Raj Napal
- It Takes a While to Disappear by Ralph Angel
- In Every Direction by Ralph Angel
- I Thank You, Mum by Raj Napal
- Hope for a New World by Raj Napal
- God Cut the Cord by Raj Napal
- Even Because by Ralph Angel
- Dinner Date by Rainbow Reed
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
A. Van Jordan, born 1965 in Akron, Ohio, USA, is a contemporary American poet and the author of four important collections: Rise, which won the PEN/Oakland Josephine Miles Award (Tia Chucha Press, 2001); M-A-C-N-O-L-I-A, (2005), which was listed as one the Best Books of 2005 by the London Times; Quantum Lyrics, (W.W. Norton, 2007); and The Cineaste (W.W. Norton,, 2013). Jordan has been awarded a Whiting Writers Award, an Anisfield-Wolf Book Award, and a Pushcart Prize.