at any time but especially today we recommend a stroll through this page www.lyrikline.org , hundreds of poets from all languages \u200b\u200bare overlook our feeling from the yours, barter seems perfect in an imperfect world.
YOUR SKIN LOOKING Unavowable Antonio Gamoneda
shameful seek your skin, your skin
anointed by the sadness of snakes
distinguish your business invisible trace
cold heart.
would have seen your bloody film,
your tears between crystals and not your yellow stripes,
but my dream lives under your eyelids.
THREAD THAT NO decipherment of Clara Janes
No wire to decipher the maze
sea is no way
sea;
I outline is invisible sea
condensations, trends;
past that is always the sea,
origin matter Madre,
without form, shade without the sea
Desire is pure sea,
pure chance.
ETERNITY Anna Montero
might tell you tonight
that time does not pass,
that filters light
heart of light,
remember that we live in the other word will be
lips.
could tell you it does not grow
oblivion or silence in the avenues
solitary the fire has burned
garbage daily
not cleared the roads, and always
pound a sea
behind the last horizon.
might tell you tonight that all
nights like us, that time
rivers
returns each plujai
every cloud brings record
more fish
dark to light first.
HE HABITAT Anna Montero your skin
've lived your skin
your dreams.
than you and me
nostalgia of old horizons
insinuated.
from the uncertain light
will spend the nights, days,
darkness and distance.
see the procession pass
of absent
and fear we look out the window.
've lived your skin
your dreams and the house we built within
a room or a river that leads
vers altres Somnis
ens pots that somiaran
purposes mirada a la final.
POEM DEAF Bernardo Pinto de Almeida
Reaches
night and surprise in the middle of a long silence beat
hours on a clock that does not hear
but always accompanied
every night in a corridor only way
in the dark: the true picture of your fear
the beating of a heart that carries time
moves the time and mechanical
you off due to the presence of death
the clear choice. You follow different paths
as usual they all lead to a stream unexpected but always known that your shadow
such tumultuous your shadow and you flee
searches
just as in many movements
couldst coexist with yourself.
But where the sweet light
choice that would bring under your weary eyes
the motion agreed that
not always lead to blindness?
said it before:
love without love, returned
thyself and all that just happened
insists on the horizon of your eyes
and beats as if it had already happened there more than one hundred years have inside
thee a century and yet nothing in you forgot
or a vacant moment ripping
short of what the photo was printed and everything seems
thou paper
emaciated.
Want to give meaning to what is meaningless
or perceive a face on what it has no face and fragile
the night that you still floods the eyes
see a thread that is not there.
And everything around you
nor denies the exact word you
sounds in the ears or mouth follows the format of the words:
folded like a movie bad words descoincidem
with lip movements if they speak. And everything seems
you inside the devastated landscape
some seed that the wind has brought the visit.
a court where there are
lawyer and the defendant and the witnesses all that pervade
and are also the platform railing and
circumspect and the judge who will listen:
and crime that you accuse
ever perpetuated
yet
confess and ask for the punishment
that nothing remains of what was the freedom to
of you just keep a log file in a dusty forgotten
someone who never visit.
And I wonder what was in your face that
demented animal
foreshadowed in his voice deadly prepared
between the dreams without end and without regret.
DESTINATION Paolo Ruffilli
È quel in remote Soffio
within everyone recognizes that the heart
his fate. The
wildest dreams: the idea of \u200b\u200ban infinite
even daily,
fate left to the body of love.
surrendered and imprisoned
to preserve intact its flavor,
removed from the vacuum
held between the thighs
long, in vain, as water
still slipping from his hand.
DESIRE de Paul Ruffilli
me I think that I hunt with my hand
body gave up and
open to any assault
and listening meanwhile,
tense
the thud of your heart,
the voice that creaks and squeaks
saying:
"love."
I think of myself
account pianoogni ravine and hold
discovery and hiding
me that your point and I thins
and try and chase
measuring it seriously
cause of so much desire.
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