featured in the poetry forum June 29, 2022  :: 0 comments

As I was reading a witty treatise on artists and high critics
in which Oscar Wilde extolls contemplative existence
I looked at the protruding figures of The Last Supper opposite
my bed, upon which my eyes used to dwell every other minute
partaking of the bread and the wine within it.

There was a time when I awaited the sunset every early evening
and meditated over the celestial canvas,
the swallows darting across it
before the war shredded our lives
and clogged every stream of consciousness that rippled.

Our minds are now littered with worries
about the soaring costs of living,
the impossibility of being productive
without access to electricity,
the inability to travel with sanctions
that have estranged us from the human species.

editors note:

Such estrangement! Strange to us, strangling these. Think on that. – mh clay

In Distress

June 28, 2022  :: 0 comments

What is so special about grass? I ask myself. Is it their presence among our urban mess? Yet it no longer embalms a concept and many people do not believe in its aesthetic, medicinal, or magical essence in this age of malls and plastic magnificence. My dog eagerly rushes to any patch of vegetation on our concrete pavements. She lingers …

​They see a lobster

featured in the poetry forum April 20, 2022  :: 0 comments

​They see a lobster crawling out
every time he opens his mouth
to utter the words he had memorized
for a speech he never attempted to write.

They see a lobster shrieking out
every time he constructs a smile
that is unwilling to endow
his hardened features with the amity required
to lure the crowds.

They see a lobster reeling out
in the corners of his eyes
inebriated with tears that ripple
with self-love
as he gazes upon the sufferings of humankind.

editors note:

Such characters (recognize one?) are an affront to lobsterdom. – mh clay

A Thistle

April 19, 2022  :: 0 comments

The first men I fell in love were Robert Kennedy and Jesus Christ. I hope I am not blaspheming if I say that I found a prophet extremely handsome with his auburn hair and Celtic beard. I loved both JFK and his brother, but for me Robert was handsomer. I gazed upon my heroes long hours, until the Virginian (James …

Old Spice

February 12, 2022  :: 0 comments

He records the weight and breadth of her censorious words every night in his notebook. He keeps a chart of his tears, another of her screams, and a few tick boxes for the scarcity of halcyon days. His face has become a topography of his ill-hidden fears of displeasing a woman who had hijacked the best of his years. He …

A Chasm

featured in the poetry forum February 2, 2022  :: 0 comments

When you failed to impart your feelings to me,
I was bound to falter with hesitancy
for a beauty like yours had fettered my eloquent ease.

Nothing had repulsed me in your athletic physique,
a pair of arms, disarming my wit
whenever your sleeves unveiled their muscular feats.

A pair of eyes that probed without being intrusive.
A pair of lips that regaled with English translucence.
A pair of hands that intimated a world of assurance.

We drifted apart,
a chasm widening within our hearts,
submerging our hearths with early snowfalls.

editors note:

Looks good, feels good, fails better; a cold chasm, indeed. – mh clay

The Crying Game

November 26, 2021  :: 0 comments

I searched for something the least voguish. The location was an embassy though the occasion was only a job interview. London was in verdure with its tree-fringed roads. Sunrays multiplied in my eyes that beamed with joy – my first job interview since I graduated only three months ago. The interviewees hardly noticed my entrance into a very spacious room, …

A Free-Born Smile

featured in the poetry forum November 10, 2021  :: 0 comments

How can you abort
a smile that has been free-born,
that is neither cajoled nor bought,
that is not designed by a dentist who adorns,
that imparts to the onlooker a current of warmth,
that woos the worst sworn enemy with a truce,
that endows the oldest face with the glow of youth,
that makes a pair of lips eloquent without words,
that builds a bridge between nations that constantly fought,
that opens a gate into one’s innermost thoughts,
that rewrites a hasty letter with a cordial tone,
that rebukes the frowns that are the offspring of gall,
that humors a forlorn soul,
that exposes for the beloved two rows of amity’s pearls.

editors note:

With those priceless pearls? How can you, indeed? – mh clay

The Aesthetics of Penury

August 21, 2021  :: 0 comments

She lived among sordid squalor, yet she only beheld what enthralled, such as a stray sunray that fleetingly slipped into her darksome room or a moth happily fluttering round half a candle that her little brother was given at church. The key to her tidiness was a bar of soap that she earned from her overtime chores. Having scrubbed myriads …


featured in the poetry forum August 20, 2021  :: 0 comments

The legacy of betrayal that started before
Judas Iscariot is bound to endure
for centuries to go.

I think of St. Benedict and the noble crow
that snatched the poison those brethren sowed
in his dairy food.

And the Templars who observed their chivalric codes
were arrested and tortured in the name of the Lord
by a treacherous pope.

Entire countries are habitually sold
for their possessions of gas or gold
by rapacious rogues.

And monogamy, whose veil is ripped and torn,
is daily ravished by lechery’s thorns
to propagate divorce.

editors note:

Only done by us. Yay, Humans! – mh clay