A rose of freedom,
Once stood in the fields green,
Now tainted roses stand,
In deserts of sands,
Painted with grief all around,
To smell the scent,
Of a rose is Long history,
As they have withered,
Been Taken hostage,
In a land occuppied,
By enemies of gun,
Which rose may be smelt?
None, As all are in mourning,
With the blood spilled of a nation,
And a rose of freedom,
Lives in the minds of many yet.
We need this smell to cool off our anger. So painful though that we are mourning at this time. Aptly captured. We will surely overcome.
Good write, Alpay.
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
In the Whirlwind is a poetic storm that frees history from the cages of corruption and puts it in the hands of everyday people. Words are weaved into a new fashion statement that has nothing to do with runways but everything to do with projects!
(Self-published. Please contact author directly to order.)
Enter the pages of diaspora in quiet introspection. Bathe your thoughts with subtle humor; synchronize your spirit-sense with history-in-heat; fall headlong with eyes wide open into
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Good write, Alpay.
Emeka