The Birth Of Narcissus


when I submitted this poem to the magazine, I received the following reply:

Dear Leila,

Unfortunately we are going to pass on your work. We don’t feel that it is quite the right fit for our A Portrait in Blues anthology. Good luck placing it elsewhere.

Kind regards,

Platypus Press Editors


Rather, this poem contains all the blues’
features, only the message is not served on a plate. Pay attention to key words. It’s a poem about the separation of a (wo)man from the toxic environment and finding strength and meaning in their own being.

authors’ note: Rest assured my remark does not contain any hint of the petty conceit. Enjoy my poem.

Or not.

 

***

I  have found my face

It is beautiful…
to smile by the lake, to kneel before my image
I, Creator,
Beside my one true lover
Who gazes upon my improved facial features
I, Creator,
I touch them with my newborn newly lengthened arms
Recreating myself , but in my own image

Graceful mirror,
what a magnificent creature I am
the pure form, offended by piss-poor perfection
I have no need for this damned society
Of humanity’s cretinous castaways,
now that I have found
my mad reflection

One vanity
one nature
one jealousy
that gazes at what she cannot touch!
no more!
and one love
always reciprocated.

With this new love brought from Heaven to Earth
with this beautiful creation emerged from the freezing water
there will be no more Petrarchan Platonic patheticalness
no more dark clouds above my shoulders with the strong pungent smell of storm
there will be.. No!
no more waking life, no!
No more wounds in my back, no crying at night
no more…

Eventually
I understand that love is essential
I am taking the silvered mirror
I am kissing the lips of God
I am having my first date.
with Myself.

Vanity on the fox’s trail, “The Darkness will understand”


Vanity on the fox’s trail
Behold, a miracle!
Supposedly one-sided at instants
Suitable for a scrambled moment
The martyr and her daughter who wash their feet
Tasseled with nails instead of sandals
Conversing silently.
Anything but sough
Shores and scrapings fantasizing
Daughter do you wish the powder to slip you
To disturb the onus, non-being and tendrils
Wistful across the stones you overcome
Blacker than night
You fear there will no longer be vertebrates
It is the third hour in the night After

from “The Darkness will understand”

Hear Leila Samarrai recites her poem “Dripping Windmills”


https://soundcloud.com/serge-ant-samarrai/hear-leila-samarrai-recite-her-poem-dripping-windmils

This is a poem, “Dripping Windmils”, written by Leila Samarrai, theme: the poem is about the modern Prometheus, defended by God, unlike the original legend, the sensible man who is faced with injustice and cruelty in a merciless battle with beasts in human form .. When he brought them the fire they, evildoers, burned his face starting gossiping and chanting lies about him, trying to destroy him in every way, spitting the fire in his face… Then he experiences, logically, metamorphosis into a dragon. Moral of the story: never attack a dragon or: it has always been mediocre trying to destroy the man who is in any way set aside them and above them. Especially the decieved one’s with soft and tender hearts. But even the tenderest voice can become a thunder if the blow of lightning from the villains was a strike to something more elevated thus challenging the wrath of gods themselves.

paint