Twenty Four Seven. A Poem by Robin Ouzman Hislop

 
Donde se liberan titled by hijacking planes
debate Kenya gave act el nihilismo NYC
had a secret after
to Strike un momento determinado
actor important cattle to los hechos
the suspicious individuals on potenciales experiencia de el seno
Most of his flight.
 
Most his flight. Maasai tribe of ocho años después de la versión
Agravación de targeting NYC.
Michael would be later periodista que claim
and they donde surge la humanidad demuestra
donde quiera que recorren el mundo una agravación.
 
Another nearby attacks. Another nearby attacks.
 
Hijackers en revista el terrorismo aparece
the Center’s most famous Jackson had a criminalidad se desarrolla.
Authorities did not America as aid, did not America as aid.
The CIA se produce social sufre cambios dio inicio
a building that collapsed
donde President George comienzan a degradarse but overslept.
 
Comienzan a degradarse but overslept
in sobre on his valores y social targeting NYC,
possibly office on sobre el tema but overslept.
 
7 meeting at the another nearby attacks.
In US “saying morales donde triunfan was later found World Trade Center, Odnako.
Found World Trade Center, Odnako. Revista rusa.
 
James la veracidad en un artículo el cinismo y las relaciones
– pasa America as aid.
– pasa most of his flight.
14 of their 25th floor of Odnako.
 

 
Robin Portrait July Sotillo 2016 by Amparo
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop, born UK, a reader in philosophy & religions, has travelled extensively throughout his lifetime but now lives in semi- retirement as a TEFL teacher and translator in Spain & the UK.
 
Robin was editor of the 12 year running on-line monthly poetry journal Poetry Life and Times. In 2013 he joined with Dave Jackson as co-editor at Artvilla.com, where he presently edits Poetry Life & Times, Artvilla.com, Motherbird.com.
 
He’s been previously published in a variety of international magazines, later publications including Voices without Borders Volume 1 (USA), Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N. Carolina), The Poetic Bond Volumes (thepoeticbond.com) and Phoenix Rising from the Ashes (a recently published international Anthology of Sonnets). His last publication is a volume of collected poems All the Babble of the Souk available at all main online tributaries

 
 
 
www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes
www.facebook.com/Artvilla.com
robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com

 
goodreads.com/author/show/Robin Ouzman Hislop
http://www.aquillrelle.com/authorrobin.htm
http://www.amazon.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
www.lulu.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
https://www.amazon.com/author/robinouzmanhislop
http://www.innerchildpress.com/robin-ouzman-hislop.All the Babble of the Souk

Sweet Little Sperm. A Video Poem by Tony Martin – Woods

Transforming with Poetry-a

 
SWEET LITTLE SPERM
 

 
 
tony republic
 
 
Tony Martin-Woods started to write poetry in 2012, at the age of 43, driven by his political indignation. That same year he also set in motion Poesía Indignada (Transforming with Poetry), an online publication of political poetry that he edits. Tony is a political and artistic activist who explores the digital component of our lives as a means to support critical human empowerment. He is also known in the UK for his work as an academic and educator under his non-literary name. He writes in English and Spanish and has published his first volume of poetry Los viajes de Diosa (The Travels of Goddess) 2016.
 
 
www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes
www.facebook.com/Artvilla.com
robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com

 
goodreads.com/author/show/Robin Ouzman Hislop
http://www.aquillrelle.com/authorrobin.htm
http://www.amazon.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
www.lulu.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
https://www.amazon.com/author/robinouzmanhislop
http://www.innerchildpress.com/robin-ouzman-hislop.All the Babble of the Souk

The Mirabeau bridge. Video Poem to Music by Vishal Experimental Factory

 
” Lyrics are the poem “le pont Mirabeau”of Guillaume Apollinaire from the poetry book “Alcools”

 

 
 
 
www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes
www.facebook.com/Artvilla.com
robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com

 
goodreads.com/author/show/Robin Ouzman Hislop
http://www.aquillrelle.com/authorrobin.htm
http://www.amazon.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
www.lulu.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
https://www.amazon.com/author/robinouzmanhislop
http://www.innerchildpress.com/robin-ouzman-hislop.All the Babble of the Souk

Natalie Crick | Eight Poems

Natalie Crick has found delight in writing all of her life and first began writing when she was a very young girl. Her poetry is influenced by melancholic confessional Women’s poetry. Her poetry has been published in a range of journals and magazines including Cannons Mouth, Cyphers, Ariadne’s Thread, Carillon and National Poetry Anthology 2013.

 

Dear Sister

It is Winter here.
Snow has fallen.
“I am afraid”, said the moon.
She is beautiful tonight.

Now it is darker than December.
What is dead is a different colour.
My dead sister is neither a man nor a woman.
She is a ghost.

We do not speak of her
Anymore.
I turn away from mirrors
When I see her reflection.

The dead can no longer see
I no longer care.
O Lord of darkness,
I want my innocence.

Night’s End

Snow had fallen, I remember,
At the night’s end.
Do you hear his voice?
I am never alone.

And at the end?
I do not live.
It is forbidden to die.
The winds are changing.

Our dead brother waited
Undiscovered,
But very dark, very hidden,
As the earth became black.

The field was parched and dry,
Filled with death already.
You walk through it.
You see nothing.

 

 

God, He Is In The Air

God, he is in the air,
Rushing through the wind and
Over the hills.
Coming at her in waves at the seashore.

Grey gusts
Colour her cheeks crimson
As a bandstand balloon.
She doesn’t know why.

Polka dot flags
Hang in the air
For Madeline to stuff into her pinafore
In handfuls.

Mother and Father
Stand like sheep
In a snowstorm.
Turned into each other.

 

Out There, On The Hill Somewhere

The grey skies are
Fathomless.
A strange chill
Rushed across the moors
Spreading panic.
It is her, she is trying to tell us.

She is out there,
On the hill somewhere
Left all alone in the cold and dark.
I imagine it and rock.
Memories
Coming in the middle of the night.

Wanting to remember
Made her try to die
All night long.
Longing to bleed it out.
Crying for yesterday
With eyes like black holes.

A mirror breaks.
Something is not right.
I swear
I saw her standing there.
Bells tinkled in the wind
And I gaze all around and up to heaven.

Drowning in emptiness
In the thick, still air.
My darling, she is voiceless now.
I dream and dream

Of asking she:
“Are you the Queen of Death?”

Each day we drift into nowhere.
Life will end at the end.

 

 

Goodbye

The snowfield
Is still and quiet
In slumber.
Frosted blue in grief.

Remembering your eyes
Is what hurts the most.
Your eyes, your lips, your hair
Falling into a black amnesia.

I breathe in your air.
One kiss to thaw your bones.
You are frozen dead beneath the ground.
Now there is no sound.

Your little voice
Whispers in the dust
With white hair
Like Granddad.

The sky rolls
In depression.
And I am screaming your name
In the dark.

No one believes
That you are there.
You are following me around
Everywhere.

To tell me I am
Not alone.
When another day
Is done.

An angel is crying in heaven.
How far away
Is that star in the sky.
Goodbye, Goodbye.

 

 

Secret Life of Life

I am a child
Thrust open and disregarded,
Trashing through corridors unchained.
The sound poured into me then,
Like birdsong,
Sweet and softly tapping
At my heels.

Short bursts
Of stigma
Are attached to this threshold.
I wandered out, caught
Between the lines of cars.
Such activity frightened me
So I died with leaves.

 

 

 

Journey Into Afterlife

I wanted to go
Like “this is a last chance”.
To see you at nightfall
And see my shining star.
Brown rain streaks down my face.

And we
Stir passed stooped cottages
Of witchery.
What are you doing in there?
I feel drugged.

A dull throb above
My left eye.
I wish I could hold
Your hand,
Pressing your nails

Into your palm.
I wish
I could meet you
And find out
And drown in thick filth.

 

 

 

No Surprise

There was no rain
Through the sky sagged and slumped,
An old coat cradling the lane,
Wearing thin with empty pockets.

You are inclined to believe the latter; luminous purple, ashen green.
And you are wrong because I remember that part
But, I forget where we were. Does it matter?
For poignancy is often personified when we are lost.

We swallowed the road with great swooping gulps,
Bounding with confidence, as very small cars often do.
The moon ran with us, I noticed,
Which was thoughtful, because we were all alone.

The forest mob loomed up on the left,
Hurling hostile tremors from her core.
We bravely edged onward
Though our faceless friends were engulfed in her silent roar.

We tore through the black
And he followed.
In a soundless haze, the hooves vaulted upward,
Clearing us with space to spare.

FUD. A Poem by Robin Ouzman Hislop

 
 
Fud helped temper attacks
trump a three-word promise longer than ever before
the up ones sleeve trump card
trump up trick, as Day of Judgement
raised the dead on intestinal gas through the anus
to expel hopping into an atom splitting fission
similar referendum wins multiple atoms to split
exponential increase in atoms splitting into right wing populism
the number of some which will awaken destruction
to take war to Europe
and based on history applaud the great victory
to win back control from now fractured EU.
 
The final trumpet that taps into a seething and of course many
but based on history
the Christening of them leads to nothing happening
but Utopia argumentum ad metum
– not ace in the hole card period of time –
compare trombone at dawn by several commentators
that Brexit, a trick with a trump is not caused by
split geyser of anti-immigrant sentiment suggestions
and ascent in part we are entering one moral due to another
according to the belief of thousands within an extremely short period
on a very broad scale.
 
Possible scenarios are infinite
to build a wall has many awful faults prevented
hit the economy with a strong force of natural selection trump
which might represent to trump up a convincing EU
as well as also one major wave of inward-facing
and they in turn causing all the indicators
that were in case against the last EU for all its UK causes
automatically honour targeting frail people
in their many moving parts
as their combined energy weakens.
Fear uncertainty doubt FUD call force in suppressing
in the face of won overnight
by those who due to the massive complexity
by the hundreds of splits causing multiple moral Utopia
argumentum ad impact
of the first atom of all ages and killing. Of all ages and killing.

 
 

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop, born UK, a reader in philosophy & religions, has traveled extensively throughout his lifetime but now lives in semi- retirement as a TEFL teacher and translator in Spain & the UK.
 
Robin was editor of the 12 year running on-line monthly poetry journal Poetry Life and Times. In 2013 he joined with Dave Jackson as co-editor at Artvilla.com, where he presently edits Poetry Life & Times, Artvilla.com, Motherbird.com.
 
He’s been previously published in a variety of international magazines, later publications including Voices without Borders Volume 1 (USA), Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N.Carolina), The Poetic Bond Volumes (thepoeticbond.com) and Phoenix Rising from the Ashes (a recently published international Anthology of Sonnets). His last publication is a volume of collected poems All the Babble of the Souk available at all main online tributaries.

 
 
 
www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes
www.facebook.com/Artvilla.com
robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com

 
goodreads.com/author/show/Robin Ouzman Hislop
http://www.aquillrelle.com/authorrobin.htm
http://www.amazon.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
www.lulu.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
https://www.amazon.com/author/robinouzmanhislop
http://www.innerchildpress.com/robin-ouzman-hislop.All the Babble of the Souk