there is no greater name-calling of small-mindedness, that oppressive chokehold of establishment thinking… I felt it while creating these verses, from my poem “The pain of vibrant flowers” edited by Obinna Eruchie that I will post on my author’s blog soon…
Nema veće prozivke malograđanštine, nema dalje… Zadovoljna sam.
all rights deserved by ©Leila Samarrai, 2019
edited by: Obinna Eruchie
Fear often recurs, fear often repeats itself, he has tact, he is musical, he likes to preen, very sure of himself, constant grooming. he gets closer and faster to our hairs and says, I’m here, I love you.
Fear is a kind tenant to us, he pays his rent on time, he truly understands us, he cares about our toothache while crying out loud he would alert us to Mrs Flamehead, the landlord, a wicked woman hooked up forever with a broom and with a cloth scarf on her head
You have to run away, says Fear, you have to run away, his words have it a great sound of reprimand, his cold sentences, like icy droplets of sweat, in search of a wet knot made of piles of weakness.
For, living in fear is a death that never ceases.
Some deaths come to make others’ lives easier. The phrase “Not to speak ill of the dead” falls into the category of grievous hurt and thought defects, lies that are told as “good day” good evening “good night” how are you or… Today, it’s the hottest day of the summer, or… .”Not to speak ill of the dead ”- Just passing the time of day – So much for decorum.
People do not die of sadness, they die when they make peace with themselves and start to believe to the delusion that they have found themselves.
The Adventures of Boris K” is a humorous and satirical story, among other things. In the midst of all the hardship he goes through, he has not forgotten to joke and play. He is a grown man but also a child.
pondering rape victims through history
was I, myself, being written this, a victim of R violence?!
for all those who cannot see the beauty behind the depths of archetypes, I, gladly, analyze (in-depth) the archetypes in the poem “Struggle for Survival”. I often revieve comments that my poems are too “deep”, whatever that means.
I find it a pleasure to analyze my poems this way.
for those for whom it’s not too huge, grasp it, enjoy it, fellows!
in 40 minutes I explore the true identity of the woman in the poem Who is she? Who is not… – through the book of Revelation, comparisons of Buddhist female deities, lists of victims of rape in antiquity, and much more.
Feel free to leave the comment.
There will be time for me to tell you
Will the words spin tomorrow as well
And will the essence be the thread
Stooped candelabrums stalk me
Between yearning and fear
Between passion and constancy
Always present while you sleep restlessly
There where the beginnings end
Solitude too has been captured, moulded and limited
And her contents gnawed off in the tempest
Where the beginning and the end meet
Each full moon