Blackout Poetry

Follow me.
I have ideas
for a real existence.
(C) Norma Martiri 2022
Blackout Poetry
Follow me.
I have ideas
for a real existence.
(C) Norma Martiri 2022
Truth
in the minds
of the rightful
is not enough.
© Norma Martiri 2022
He found love.
She felt his love,
the ripeness.
She began to believe once more.
Wild and unbridled,
they enjoyed the miracle of each other
and kept on blooming.
(c) Norma Martiri 14/02/22
Image by skalekar1992 from Pixabay
Tired mothers hover.
Long-legged boys scramble off,
decide to grow up.
Crow.
Copyright © Norma Martiri 2020
Wave Books – The Melting of Molly
Image by Isa KARAKUS from Pixabay
The old man did not smile.
Seeing him
frail,
afraid —
I turned away
and had my dinner.
Copyright © Norma Martiri 2020
The chatter of people,
the most irritating sound.
Shhhhhhh!
Silence!
Copyright © Norma Martiri 2020
Ethereal garden,
moss and lichen,
a cycle of
life,
death,
decay.
I stare in awe at rays
filtering through,
emerald ferns,
tangled undergrowth.
I listen to the murmur,
the chirrup of birds,
the bubbling stream —
the silence.
I smile.
Copyright © Norma Martiri 2020
Sometimes she talks
in a different way,
feels a kind of light.
A strange type
with such sights, such visions.
She looks at everything
with clear quiet eyes,
skirting the edge of abysses,
pushing through suspicions.
A fearless little figure.
Copyright © Norma Martiri 2020
Image by enriquelopezgarre from Pixabay
The sun was saluted
by a sparkle of electric lights.
Night distributed silence.
It pleased him.
Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay
Hold onto those words.
Speak.
Once he answered
every question,
unwrapped the conversation.
It’s not possible.
Mean.
Dark moments form.
Family disappears –
again.
Speak.
Survive.
Go beyond.
Pass on precious memories
before they disappear –
deeper.
Speak.
He’s at the end.
All alone now.
Copyright (c) Norma Martiri 2019
Text: newspaper article.