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Halcyon Poemcrafter 23455 / Åland Islands, Female, 98
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12/22/2013 3:01:00 AM
12/22/2013 2:08:00 AM
12/14/2013 2:20:00 PM
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12/13/2013 7:39:00 AM
12/12/2013 4:16:00 PM
12/12/2013 4:09:00 PM
12/12/2013 2:09:00 PM
12/12/2013 2:05:00 PM
12/12/2013 2:03:00 PM

Latest 5 Poems of Halcyon Poemcrafter

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Halcyon Poemcrafter's last comments on poems and poets

  • POEM: Of Your Ugly Battles by Sadiqullah Khan (12/22/2013 3:34:00 AM)

    He passed away two days before Madiba did.
    The freedom fighter and the slaughterer died at the same age! But how can the two compare. History shall be the judge.

  • POET: Mahmoud Darwish (12/13/2013 3:19:00 PM)

    My favourite poet writing in Arabic. So sad he left quite early but as they say poets live on forever. You won't be forgotten Mahmoud Darwish contrary to what you're saying in this incredibly beautiful poem:

    Forgotten As If You Never Were

    Forgotten, as if you never were.
    Like a bird’s violent death
    like an abandoned church you’ll be forgotten,
    like a passing love
    and a rose in the night... forgotten

    I am for the road... There are those whose footsteps preceded mine
    those whose vision dictated mine. There are those
    who scattered speech on their accord to enter the story
    or to illuminate to others who will follow them
    a lyrical trace... and a speculation

    Forgotten, as if you never were
    a person, or a text... forgotten

    I walk guided by insight, I might
    give the story a biographical narrative. Vocabulary
    governs me and I govern it. I am its shape
    and it is the free transfiguration. But what I’d say has already been said.
    A passing tomorrow precedes me. I am the king of echo.
    My only throne is the margin. And the road
    is the way. Perhaps the forefathers forgot to describe
    something, I might nudge in it a memory and a sense

    Forgotten, as if you never were
    news, or a trace... forgotten

    I am for the road... There are those whose footsteps
    walk upon mine, those who will follow me to my vision.
    Those who will recite eulogies to the gardens of exile,
    in front of the house, free of worshipping yesterday,
    free of my metonymy and my language, and only then
    will I testify that I’m alive
    and free
    when I’m forgotten!

  • POEM: Wrong Expectations, Actually by Edwina Reizer (12/12/2013 4:18:00 PM)

    Lovely!
    Still, I prefer to pretend to believe I can hear the sea when I place a shell on my ear.

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