Primus Priory - Jared Angira

My man is gone away to serve
                                        the Master
                                        his chief

A Grave in Samoa - John Macfarlane

     The wild birds strangely call,
And silent dawns and purple eves are here,
Where Southern stars upon his grave look down,
     Calm-eyed and wondrous clear!

Mother's love - Roberto Echavarren

Rock, echo, hard sand;
from the ravine runs
white-hot water: each grain
of mica in the sun, bud, shoot, stone,
sere mouth, collects dust

Icarus - Gabriele Tinti

I would like to fly away from here, be cured of this pointless disease,
burn under another light, a clear, scorching dawn.

A Little Bit About the Soul - Wislawa Szymborska

A soul is something we have every now and then.
Nobody has one all the time
or forever.

The Rains Will Come Again - Amenuveve Agbitor

While you roll in noble duvets,
And saw logs into the morning,
In magnificent buildings,
That pose elegantly,
On fine rocky hills,

The Wind - Robert Louis Stevenson

I saw you toss the kites on high 

And blow the birds about the sky; 

And all around I heard you pass, 

Like ladies' skirts across the grass — 

     O wind, a-blowing all day long, 

     O wind, that sings so loud a song!

It all seemed like a dream - Nazaha Zaeem

It all seemed like a dream,
As I sit in denial to believe,
I lost a soul before my eyes,

Where somebody drew a flower - Miriam Calleja

In winter, these rock dwellings
take on a different slant.
In winter as you walk, if you
take care not to slip, you arrive
at a rock placed by giants,
where somebody drew a flower.

A Small Prayer for the Unflummoxed Beaver - Kei Miller

so unmoved by the boat’s slow approach – the boat
drifting across the flat green acre of water; a small prayer
for these acres of water which, in the low light, seem firm;
the squirrels, however, are never fooled or taken in;