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Lord, confound this surly sister, blight her brow with blotch and blister, cramp her larynx, lung and liver, in her guts a galling give her.

quote by John Millington Synge
Added by Lucian Velea
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Words Of Sympathy

My condolences can’t ease the pain,
That you have come to feel.
Nor fill the void in your heart,
That often seems unreal.

But it lets your heart know,
That you are in my prayers.
And when sorrow digs its heels,
There is someone here who cares.

I offer healing words of comfort,
And many hugs for sympathy.
When sorrowful clouds blotch your sky,
You can always depend on me.

poem by Raul Moreno
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Blackened Ocean

Life changes like turning tides,
Heart-felt walks become stricken strides,
The warmth can calm a darkening storm,
Yet in the stillness and peace it may form,
Abroad the ocean of many billion,
The sky, shades of angry vermillion,
Obscure problems evolve to many deviations,
Stirring the ocean and its false incantations,
For as I sit here today and watch,
Happiness around me does not blotch,
My own black view of a bitter ocean,
Chaotic waves of heartless notion.

poem by Anthony Degilio
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Scarlet Bruises

A red heron
Flew above
A red sun
I watched
Its wings flap
Winnowing
The red stains
In the sky
But he was
Tethered to
The blood
Crammed to
The veins
Of his feigned
Endeavor to
Haplessly vie
I watched
The red blotch
As it spread
And conquered

[...] Read more

poem by Norman Santos
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The Pine Of Reminiscence

I see always the page that is filled on
By the muddy-black blotches of ink.
I am able from men to be hidden,
But to where could I run from night’s brink?

All that live has become so distant,
That didn’t come – so perfectly watched,
And forgotten lines merge from that instant
Till next dawn into many a blotch.

I’m all there – in impossible answers,
Where the letters of dreams loom in sight…
I like children to be in a house –
And these children to cry in the night.

poem by Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
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Blotch

I compelled my hand-blotch to be a care
On this soul of mine. So far, my cares
Diminished, as bending was difficult for me
And old tables remained like my skin.
I wore a cardigan that day, and could it be
That my wearing of this item of clothing
Be strict and due to ancient nature,
Or the feature of an old saying
That forbade my age to enter history.
My hands tie meaning with my shirt
Or shall I say cardigan, just the sold one,
The one so forgiving of my age.
Age carries stiches,
I stretch my shirt, or cardigan,
And look at my hands.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Windows

As I look through the reflective window,
The glass multiplies my incantation.
It's as if some strange ghost of myself shows
Itself by transposition's migration
Further into a faint transparency,
Further into a smeared blotch of colors
That blend with the bucolic scenery.
I make a distortion of this nature.
I pantomime myself five times or more—
Four times that I can recognize my face.
What must I replicate my movements for?
Why must my shadow mutate throughout space?
I gaze at the outside world. There, I find
Another portrait in-between two minds.

poem by Tim Stensloff
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The last moment

As a mosquito hangs buzzing in the air
while telling everybody of its approach
and with a predatory instinct
finds a landing zone,
it is powerless to comprehend
the last moment
when a raised hand
makes it just another blotch of blood and guts,

far too busy feeding, enjoying the nectar of life
in that instant it does not comprehend
that destiny enacted by mere man
comes down in a darkening slap
and maybe the darkness
which is eternally
makes everything around it fade to black,

but to this enemy of man,
there is no hesitation, demur and misgivings
of the price it has to pay

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Something Found in the Night

Breezy brush strokes
Ink blotch tree tops
slick oil spill foliage
surreal nightsky canvass
abandoned cricket chirp haze
luminary midnight
phosphorescent corner street light
silver-back vagabond
bitter brown bag delight
swaying strands of electric sable
high-wire communication circus
tire track tentacles of rubber eels
Commercial patriot; silver signals from above
piloting visions in the clouds
sweet sky cabin dreams
oh woe,
I lose so many things during the night:
words, stanzas, hours,
time, sleep, thoughts,
memories, worries, consciousness

[...] Read more

poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Dying Stars

Ans so we lay there, under the dark sky, waiting
for the Sun to wake up the world. We were drifting
apart, but we still held hands and I watched the stars die
as you watched the Sun being born. And no one spoke.
You had so many things to say to make everything better,
but I just wanted you to leave and forget about everything.
Life would go on, and we could go on,
for I could not keep pretending to miss you
when you were gone and love you when you were around.

When all the stars were gone, so were you,
but I stayed and stared at the sky. It was blue now;
an even, perfect blue with a blotch of bright yellow.
I smiled up at that sky, and it seemed to smile back.

poem by Zoe Guillory
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