Fig leaves crumbling under flickering side streetlights the sweat of brow surreptitious like a snake shedding skin on its way to destiny counting the drops of rain the kettle smokes the room the window half open like the eyelids. drenched streets lone between shadows dim darkness humming nighttunes A pain inside and the blood feels torn the breath loosens slowly in drips.
You test the limits so well Saberi keeping your reader engaged with bated breath to see where you're taking us next! Kudo's!
Love,
Eileen
Reviewed by blue soplain (Reader)
Reviewed on October 1, 2007
something in this reminds me of a Edvard Munch painting; all sinew and rawness. . .. a slight bit off in its ethe/r.eality. ..
i love it. ..
especially the dangling spaces in between. ..
ness
This is one of those poems that leaves the reader grasping for your thoughts, wishing to complete the depth with an analysis of each line...and then it is all defined.....Surreal...
I really enjoy the images that you often project. Here is what I felt when I read your beautiful lines.
The innocence of humanity has been worn away,
Lightened by side streets that detour man in a mindless stupor;
As working has become their reward for unshackled chaos.
While peoples characters have become reversible as rain coated serpents,
With clouds of darkened future leaving a window sash parted slightly to vent the gain;
Cleansing of streets with muddy ichors drainings.
As the crickets and tree frogs sing of natures nightime refrain,
Gathering the subterfuge of a lost humanities identity;
Whose pain has been numbed by lost bloodlines haste.
With breathless exhaustion slowly peeling back the raw drippings,
Charted by a Nanoreel imploded by infinite space.
A really Kool profound piecec Sabrie
Loved the cadence
Love & Peace
William
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on October 1, 2007
Shades of the beat poets of the 1950s, this one shrieked out at you in black and white and stark realism . . . That realism is what makes this better than most of the beats . . . Very good . . .
The second book in the telepathy series. It contains more ways for the up and coming telepathist to experiment with the sending and receiving of thoughts and is at the end of the story about future telepathy people found unexpectedly chosen by the go
A way to use your mind for silent communication. Speaking about the methods in the book I have used since a young age.
21st Century learning. I also have a GoFundMe page to ask for funds so I can research with other people and add their experiences
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
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Amor
The two lines that end your poem make me think of the reflections on time (and space) and the recent evolution of these concepts.
I have enjoyed your poetry.
Axilea
on the edge...
John
Love,
Eileen
i love it. ..
especially the dangling spaces in between. ..
ness
nice work....
Art Sun...
The innocence of humanity has been worn away,
Lightened by side streets that detour man in a mindless stupor;
As working has become their reward for unshackled chaos.
While peoples characters have become reversible as rain coated serpents,
With clouds of darkened future leaving a window sash parted slightly to vent the gain;
Cleansing of streets with muddy ichors drainings.
As the crickets and tree frogs sing of natures nightime refrain,
Gathering the subterfuge of a lost humanities identity;
Whose pain has been numbed by lost bloodlines haste.
With breathless exhaustion slowly peeling back the raw drippings,
Charted by a Nanoreel imploded by infinite space.
Loved the cadence
Love & Peace
William