INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Engjell I. Berisha
Narendra Kumar Arya
Akwu Sunday Victor
Paul B. Roth
Sneha Subramanian Kanta
Ann Arbor Review <![endif]>
is an independent
International Journal & ezine<![endif]>
Copyright (c) 2017
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
note: in print 1967 - 1980. Irregular publications 1980 - 2004.
As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 48 years all together....
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Silver Grey Fox
I knew my grandparents by how they cultivated their
In their form of fingers interrelating
While the line of life
Had to start in the east
They wake up with the crown of sun every morning.
As a borderline between what belonged to them
And the indifference for what did not
Were the graceful oak trees
Equal with the age’s roughness
That just to bother
Threw its shade in the neighbour’s garden
Who my grandpa always mentioned
With a little envy
Because his trees gave more fruits.
The adour of sail while it was cultivated
I remember it even today… reminds me of childhood
Generations are raised by memories!
Ah, I haven’t forgotten the offenses of my grandparents
Their silent curses for those who stole a little grape across
The street (never in their proud touched).
Now, that I tread that earth with a bunch of dreams in
I feel that in it there’s again essence
That time wouldn’t fade away!
Everything has died because of the winter cold
But the amaryllis of the earth inherited a spring that will ever cherish…
I’ll carry my fate in my shoulders
Somewhere… where I don’t even know where
Without holdbacks, a bunch of tears
With the world who inseminated me
I will close my eyes to escape
Without turning back
Me the child of broken cradles
Me the lass’s essence
Me the women
Kneeled because of love!
What direction I will travel by?
Maybe by heart
Because leaving is always an emotion hurting
The care, the Achilles heel,
Castles always fall from inside
Victories are defeated glories
No one wins in a game of losers
And gazing defeated by the memory.
I am a peaceful getaway
Longing, hurricane, image
My self brings me back from my way
She stands alone even when I am gone…
THE OTHER’S SELF
I am scared by the winds blowing in this unclear time
Living in the mist
Without asking “Why?”
Seeking the cause at the other
Myself mentioned in formless form
Borrowed from sufferin’!
I am scared of what my eyes witness everyday
People drowned in rancour
Pulled from the vanity of greed
Oh… with words I will break down barricades:
Give your life the chance
To find happiness in the air
To fight for freedom with feelings’ strength
To glory of being
Fate is destined by Zeuses
Low, very low beings are dozen
Daubed with the poverty’s mud
Without a sound,
Without a single sound?!
Meanwhile beyond the fence rest the poets
Who into dreams rebel to other’s self!
BLESSED IN SIN
After that birch fence
Where now a magpies group are holding conversations
Had stepped for the first time
The Devil's Foot,
While it escaped in search of hope
In exchange for a poisoned life...
Since that day, but only lord preserves the land
With his humble shepherds
Knowledge is gathered little by little, silently
With a mom simplicity
As she pampers her baby's forehead...
In that forest of sins
Today it grows snakes, they age, and are inherited,
But every generation that goes keeps awake the legend
After that fence of sin
We listen our conscience
To prove that the taste of sin
Devilishly was born with human beings!
Irsa Ruci, Tirana, Albania