SCRIPTING
The shallow ruins
Of an empire
Needs more
Creative happiness
Than a wildfire of misery.
In creative happiness
We all dwell
Because we are still alive.
It is a sheer happiness
In what we do.
Release of misery
Is an unyielding loyalty
That makes contagious bread
Of ill will.
Although we may be brimming
With life,
We cannot remain unblinded
With misery.
We would still want to be alive
If someone is to read us
In the days to come.
Once a voice is written
It speaks louder than the meanings.
The empire of tomorrow
Runs in the veins today
And we are alive to script by design.
This blog is the successor to the poetry section of the now no longer existing The Argotist Online. Send submissions to argotistonline@gmail.com. Due to the large number of submissions, only those accepted can be replied to.
Poems by Sheila E. Murphy
FROM JAZZ FINGERINGS #7 Music thread-side marvels way into the practice room of the mind where syllables collide with desire a pearl apart ...
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THE STUDIO The vista which then opened was one I never could’ve anticipated in the Nineties—the PAFA campus was set as a series of jeweled b...
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Novel Lines 101: 101 alphabetical poems, each riffing on the opening line of a postmodern novel or metafiction. Antonio Lobo Antunes, Act o...
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AN ELYSIAN GLOW Following her through shady pines on a summer’s day, as if in the hope of a sudden trackless miracle, the young man trips an...