Expressing ourselves without being subject to rules and structures, the Poetry Club presents our collection of anonymous freestyle poems:
“Change”
I cannot fathom change
And yet the world is ever-changing
I won’t ever be as uninviting,
Or unwilling to agree
Though I would like to embrace it in time,
I fear it will not yet be seen
At most I desire to be amenable to it
Then, I could live freely
“In October”
Standing on an empty field, no memories left
Only the taste of an unripe pear, of your leather car, of spilled varnish
Of a hazy flare, an unnamed star, of bygone tarnish,
And the unkempt apocalypse
Of a dejected someone in a house ablaze, and I think of the girl
Who marked lines on her bedroom wall
As though in a prison cell waiting
For her Autumnal release
“I yearn”
I do not yearn for a partner
I yearn for the promise of loving and being loved in return
I yearn for the river to bring me to my lover and for my lover to bring me to the river
I yearn for laughter like a hundred doves in a tree
I yearn for the certainty of truth and the reality of heartbreak
I yearn for experience and trial
I yearn for the deepest root’s connection to the highest leaf on the tree
But mostly I yearn for our souls to be free
“Blue”
Run to feel the electricity of rain,
When the shivering cold
Warms your body in azureous blue.
“Winter’s Dawn”
Winter’s dawn, I hear the rainstorm approaching
The tabby cat pushes me awake
I am no longer; I suffer of heartache
On this nebulous morning, awe awaiting
Gray sky and hot tea
Misty trees and classical mythology
So tranquil secluded, I can only think of yesterday
Camera shots of those loved so very dearly
Trapped in a room that is only time-wasting laughter
Comporting ourselves so very rambunctiously
A wild hysteria of a long day, singing until we could no longer
Our voices hoarse, lighting the night on fire
Yesterday, washed away, far from today
As the rain pours and memories engrave
And your smile sweet like agave
And the air prickling like hail
I think of yesterday, on a stormy lendemain
“Light”
Thoughts become muffled
As time passes by
Life becomes mundane
trapped in an empty light bulb
Suddenly, a switch is flipped
And the room bursts with light
The light bulb breaks
The conflagration is liberated
And the fire reaches my heart.
Lux αφικνεοται*
*Lux is arriving — pronounced “Lux afikneotai”
“Pale moonlight”
Legs up to my chin as I read,
The pale moonlight seeping through
The inlets of limestone wall,
Flowers lay still on the kidney desk,
I feel the cool wind grasp my face:
The lucidity of a window left ajar.
“Arcadia”
This lack of satisfaction is everlasting
From dreams of another reality, of your lack of congeniality
I pray for Terpischore, for Calliope, to sing
Theft of my mind to storm my insomnia
Where I’d dance in gardens of wisteria
So love is the panacea that whisks you to life
The storm that eats away your thoughts in strife
Where you once roamed on the hills of Arcadia
Until you plummet into some kind of mania
How the Muses will be quick to disregard me
As my satisfaction is unknown and my dissatisfaction of renown
“Gloom”
Past dawn’s rose, bathed in the sun’s honey aurora, I woke,
To measure: outstretched limber limbs aloft,
Screened in from a paled hue of fog, yet exposed,
Stirring among the willowy weeds of wool sheets,
The weight of a lissom motion draws a sore breath,
Spots trickle down a bare back; skin damp with dew,
Welling through a windless sky; a billow, faded blue,
A yearning to rise, the balminess of yellowed leaves overhanging,
Mellowed wind carries in a ribbed tune, reeling around the room,
A ripple in an absence of a memory, lucid when it heaves,
A probing, stifling rush seeps in through my eyes; flicker from the past,
Plagued by the thoughts of stirring erst, I hold my body faintly,
A tenderness turned raw, felt irrevocably,
Marmalade mornings in solitude, melancholically savored,
Basking in a hollowed room, a glance aloft yet pining,
The whittled willow tree, forlorn against this morrow,
Succumbs to waver to a mellifluous song, a rosy rhythm.