Apologies for the profanity. “…It leaves at last, not in the usual blur Of confetti, glitter, and streamers…”
Happy New Year! The first poem of 2021. “How strange is it that I dare To daydream of another life?”
Limited resources is a Cascade Poem. The speaker of the poem emphasizes her priorites in case she had limited ink to write, limited time to see, and limited memories to retain.
It is a Pattern Based Poem.
Carol of Life, by J. W. Cassandra: my newest poem, written today morning. I welcome with it the new year, I share it both in English and Hungarian. Subject of the poem, the Being isn’t me, of course, it is a supernatural Being, a Creator, as I felt by the inspiration, writing the poem.The English version is only a translation by me. Illustration is from me, an own photo. I hope, you will enjoy my poem.
Carol of Life, by J. W. Cassandra: my newest poem, written today morning. I welcome with it the new year, I share it both in English and Hungarian. Subject of the poem, the Being isn’t me, of course, it is a supernatural Being, a Creator, as I felt by the inspiration, writing the poem.The English version is only a translation by me. Illustration is from me, an own photo. I hope, you will enjoy my poem.
Negative thinking people have excuses for everything they say and do It’s always someone else’s fault that they bring bad news and vibes to you Whenever you see this person they never have anything…
मेरी कविता का आधार आज की नारी शक्ति के लिएं है। जैसे कि जमाना बहुत तेज़ी से आगे बढ़ रहा है लेकिन स्त्रियों के लिए आज भी वही पाबंदी और रोक टोक जारी है। एक स्त्री क्या सोचती है अपनी ज़िन्दगी के बारे में बस उसी भावना को इस रचना में मैंने वयक्त किया है।।
Byr a Thoddaid is a stanzaic form, written in any number of quatrains made up of two couplets, the cyhydedd fer and a Toddaid byr (a shortened version of Toddaid).
Thy Silence Ripens…, by J. W. Cassandra, my poem of volume 18, “Incompletion”, cycle “I See the Unseen”. I chose now a short poem for you. I share it both in English and Hungarian. Illustration is from the net. I hope, you will enjoy my poem.
Thy Silence Ripens…, by J. W. Cassandra, my poem of volume 18, “Incompletion”, cycle “I See the Unseen”. I chose now a short poem for you. I share it both in English and Hungarian. Illustration is from the net. I hope, you will enjoy my poem.
A Renaissance genre characterized by a short catalog-style description, often of the female body. This type of poem makes extensive use of metaphors and similes to describe the person.
When I was a child, I’d always gone to the sea. First, I’d discovered the sea light; then, I’d wondered and asked; ‘What’s this glorious magnificence? They said to me, ‘At night, the phosphorescence in the sea.’ ‘And in the day, it is sunshine.’ The sea was yellow and blue; it was because of the sun. One day, I’d looked at it, then, I could no more. Therefore, my eyes had gotten black and blacker, Then, they’d become with full of tears, It’s just because, I could never see it again, nevermore. Now, the sun light is far in impossible distance.
Standing down between the human feet, Howling with the pain and without any gain, Who can understand her, o! She can’t speak any word, Just she is howling with many reasons than us, Thus who knows what she pains or urges? A wooden perished kennel where she lies down, Broken, ruined; and swimming in the muddy marsh, Her closed eyes with her feet like a shamed, She is the howling dog, just a crying, wooing and wooing.
