Poetry There are a number of poets among the Ovi team, so we have gathered the together here.
What was he thinking
when he stood across from her.
the children were sleeping upstairs,
I love to hear the voices of children
the sweet, melodious voices of children.
I love their faces.
We know that they are there
Lurking in their secret passageways,
Hooting high frequencies through their lair.
| ||Urban Symphony |
I sat on the quay
With hot fish and chips
Steaming from wrapped
Newspapers with the top
| ||Incessant Stomachs |
The soil they plod on is putrescence
Their actions malodorous
| ||My grey shadow|
Next to me is my grey shadow
the one that falls into a shade
and holds a candle when it rains.
its borrowed soul is from my own
| ||Some form of purity|
The brink of winter is upon me
Moving up my leg like a cold hand;
Each chilling fingertip up my spine.
| ||The Dreaming|
We go back to timelessness
Back to when God is Great Spirit
My window sill proudly displays
A grove of tomato plants
That welcome Winter's sunlight rays
With eagerness, green elegance.
| ||Don't tell |
Leonard Baskin's half-monster
stands elect under psychological
scrutiny. The hanged creature
had unlaughing eyes.