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A Dirge – An Elegy by Christina Rossetti

A Dirge is an elegy poem written by Christina Georgina Rossetti to lament the untimely death of someone close. In this poem, she beautifully relates the timing of birth and death of this person with seasons.

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Little Rose

A beautiful poem by Mannatpreet Beri about her conversation with a little rose. Both of them going through same emotional waves.

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Furr Love

Remember those days that we spent together. Feels like you’re staying with me now and forever. My dearest friend, I wish those moments would never end. Now that you are free, I hope you are…

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J. W. Cassandra: A Csigák földje /Groteszk, részlet/

J. W. Cassandra: A Csigák földje, novella, groteszk, részlet. Képzeletbeli földet ábrázol a történet, ahol a csigák bűnhődnek azokért a bűnökért, amiket korábban a múltban elkövettek emberként. Osztályokat, illetőleg fajtákat alkottam számukra, és a “házas csiga”, a “tömbházas csiga”, a “kastélyos csiga” kifejezés az épületre utal, amit a hátukon cipelnek. Minden épület az emberire hasonlít. A történetet az “Ismeretlen ösvény” című novelláskötetembe illesztettem. Ugyanide más történeteket, groteszket, filozófiai értekezéseket is raktam, amelyek nem illenek bele a másik 2 kötetbe, “A Létforgatag maszkabáljá”-ba és a “Merész álmok”-ba. Kérlek, olvasd el a weboldalamon a teljes novellát: www.jwcassandra.simplesite.com Remélem, érdekesnek találod a történetet! Illusztráció: joergip31 vagy Jörg Prieser, Pixabay. A történet részletét mind magyarul, mind angolul megosztom.

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Land of Snails, by J. W. Cassandra /Grotesque, detail/

Land of Snails, by J. W. Cassandra, a short story, a grotesque. I share here a detail of the story. It tells of a fancy land where the snails spend their punishment as snails, for the crimes and sins they had committed as human beings in the remote past. I made classes or kinds for them, and the expressions “housed snail”, “blocked snail” and “castled snail” refer to the kind of building they carry on their backs. All the buildings resemble that of humans. The story itself is placed into my short story volume titled “Unknown Path”. I placed into it all those stories, grotesque, philosophical essays that I could not place into the other 2 volumes, “Masquerade of Life” and “Valiant Dreams”. Please, visit my website for reading the whole story: www.jwcassandra.simplesite.com I hope, you will find my story interesting. Illustration for the story is by joergip31 or Jörg Prieser, Pixabay. I share here the detail of the short story both in English and Hungarian.

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Here Again

“…longing for days When the marks on skin were just kisses.”

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Celtic angel.

There once was a angel who couldn’t fly, There once was an angel who could look you in the eye, There once was a angel who could shed a tear, There once was an angel…

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J. W. Cassandra: Sziklafal tövében

At the Foot of the Rock, by J. W. Cassandra: this poem I wanted to share sooner but we have internet in our new home as in a tale: “once upon a time…” So, now I can share it at last. The poem belongs to my volume 16, Light-Source, to cycle House of Life. I chose from Pixabay an illustration, made by dreamypixel or Ales Krivec. (J. W. Cassandra: Szilkafal tövében: a verset korábban szerettem volna megosztani, de csak úgy van internetünk, mint amesében: “hol volt, hol nem volt…” Ezért ilyen késve osztom meg. A vers a 16. kötetembe tartozik: Forrásfény, Az Élet Háza című ciklusba. A Pixabayről választottam illusztrációt, dreamypixel vagy Ales Krivec képét.)

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At the Foot of the Rock, by J. W. Cassandra

At the Foot of the Rock, by J. W. Cassandra: this poem I wanted to share sooner but we have internet in our new home as in a tale: “once upon a time…” So, now I can share it at last. The poem belongs to my volume 16, Light-Source, to cycle House of Life. I chose from Pixabay an illustration, made by dreamypixel or Ales Krivec.

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Moment

Time and moments make memories and are precious as jewellery.

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Black moon

Darkness walks along her veil following her footsteps.

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Rain

This poem is for all all those, like me, who hate rains. To me it is a very miserable and depressing weather. There is nothing good about it except the food, hot tea, and fritters.

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The Storm

Never Ending Heavy Storm. Hope it would End One Day… Remained where I was … Others Ran Away. The Storm Remained. They Survived. I died. Save

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She vanished into the smoke

” Love comes unexpectedly And goes unexpectedly It left us wondering in thoughts Why did it knock at our livesTo break ; apart or to shine it with What we have got .”

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Tinseltown

“A place of pilgrimage for dreamers with Pocketful’s of burning ambition…”

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Ocean of poetry

In the deep ocean of poetry, My pen is the ship that makes journey to the ocean majestic. I travel through this ocean whenever – I am confused what to do. It is the ocean…

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