Ann Arbor Review

INSIDE THIS ISSUE:

Silvia Scheibli
'Deji W. Adesoye
Chris Lord
Ali Znaidi
Paul B. Roth
Umm-e-Aiman Vejlani
Lyn Lifshin
Laszlo Slomovits
Naim Kelmendi
Richard Kostelanetz
Anton Gojcaj
Duane Locke
Jennifer Burd
David Ishaya Osu
Steve Barfield
Miguel A Bernao Burrieza
Richard Gartee
Violeta Allmuca
Alan Britt

Fred Wolven
Ilire Zajmi
Running Cub
Donal Mahoney
Fahredin Shehu
Peter Tase
Nahshon Cook
Al Ortolani
Alex Ferde
Anton Frost

Michelle Bailat-Jones
Lazlo Slomovits & Jennifer Burd

Karyn M. Bruce
A. J. Huffman
Michael D. Long



 


Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2014 Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
------------------------------------------------

staff:
Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven
 

Submissions via e-mail:

poetfred@att.net

 

 

OPTICAL TRICK
 

I believe in a new day
Old days have imprisoned me
In the vanity dreams and paradox
I believe in the future
Today has abandoned me
I feel as an old unused rug
I believe in a true love
The old has passed unnoticed before my eyes
I believe I believe I believe 
What if the past
Present
And the future
Are only optical trick
Of human life.

  

VANITY

All day long
I stare at people walking by
I drink bitter coffee, smoke cheap cigarette
In front and before my back I donít see anyone
I flirt with men that I donít care
Tell jokes and donít laugh
Write poems in the moonlight
and rip them under sunlight
Given promises in the morning
In the evening I forget
I walk away from life and she taunts me
Iím frightened from forgetfulness
More than I do from the fire
And I feel lonely
As a wounded beast in the cage
Will I be completely
Dead when I die?

 

THIS IS THE END

This is the end my friend
The end of the dream of sunrise
This is the end of the story
That hasnít begun yet
This is the end of temptation
Of insipid seen
This is the end of failure
Nights without witnesses
This is the end of erotic
Delayed kisses
This is the end of the love
That is not born yet
This is end my friend
The endless end of life- death
And you are still waiting opened eyes
The end of the game.

 


Ilire Zajmi, Kosovo
 

   


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