International poetry Lounge

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Good morning to all our GICAS members around the Globe, welcome to our Poetry Lounge, for the next three months we would like to celebrate together as we reach our second anniversary in August with International poetry month, therefore requesting members to share your favourite and most memorable poems to add to our current collection!!!.

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Johnny J

Johnny JohnstonLove is such an expansive word for something so complex and splintered;
Which love, What love, New love, Old love, Young love, Puppy love, Erotic love, Silent love, Embodied love, Love of family, One’s spouse or children, Food tasted, The smell of spring gardenia’s, Sports, Passionate love, Forever love, Unconditional love, Then Grace.
Art is emotion and an individual’s expression whether mixed, torn, loving, gentile, insane, angry, silent, dark, erratic, humorous or fulfilling… If you can’t unmask yourself and truly be the artist you were created to be then you will never be able to fully escape the chrysalis drawn tight which smothers your spirit, depriving deep experiences and the understanding of how emotions, through every source author one’s hunger for Love.

Without darkness, light would be as the winds without a beginning or end and without pain, hurt, suffering and tragedy. The comprehension of comfort, joy, fulfillment, ecstasy and love would be as a still pond without purpose, or cause, reason, or verse…….  Johnny 4/10/14

Ysi Ortega


Ysi Ortega

20 June 2014

A LOVE LETTER – Julio Cortázar

Everything I’d want from you
is finally so little

because finally it’s everything

like a dog going by, or a hill,
those meaningless things, mundane,
wheat ear and long hair and two lumps of sugar,
the smell of your body,
whatever you say about anything,
with or against me,

all that which is so little
I want from you because I love you.

May you look beyond me,
may you love me with violent disregard
for tomorrow, let the cry
of your coming explode
in the boss’s face in some office

and let the pleasure we invent together.

Anneli Dr


My lines, I hardly call it poetry, are just glimpses between a reality and a dream… Enjoy

Gentle wind whispering in trees
and I remember your eyes again.


Adding to our Season of Poetry we need to include Leonardo Da Vinci


Tatyana Nikishova

Tatyana Nikishova

Artist & Author

And I would like to share the text from my book « My poetry and ART »
In Russian …

Когда шатаются причалы…
Когда качается Земля… Ты по Воде пойди устало
По вечным водам Бытия…

Напейся светом Обновленья
В твоей крови вся сила Мира
«Все Божества, все Вдохновенья»
…ты только слушай Тишину…

Translation in English

When wiggle piers …
when swinging land …
you are on the water and went tired
the timeless waters Genesis …

Напеися lit world’s records for many years ahead!
in thy blood the entire force peace
“All God, all Usadba is not”
… you only hear silence …


Sergej Jakovlev…

The Lotus2


Listen the piercing talks of colors.
I am in the middle of a white square,
surrounded by four dark walnut colored boundaries of obsession,
holding an enormous cadmium yellow deep hue
and a multi edged bleeding palette knife.
I am looking for the fifth boundary.
There are twisted colors dripped over the places.
Bright and pale light across and beyond
blended with solid shadows inaudibly listens.
Deep violet sodden fingers as words around meanings.
I want mark the fifth border of a space
with the language of a winded clock,
and the bristles of a swamped brush of constraint.

I feel the gravity of phtalocyanine blue,
while standing under the flying shreds of a teeming rain.
And listening to the words asking to open the closed fist,
to sign the self that I never created.
I am spinning and fragmenting towards limitlessness.
I found languages are not the same as once I said or heard.

There are flows of colors from precisions
or leaping bees towards the constructions of dimensions
or the vestiges of an impact between a color laced thought
and a floor full of reflections.
See the burst of a vast image,
like a paddy full of spikes infused with pale white,
and see that nearby alleyway, soaked in rain and mud painted with pain.All are perhaps just memories or collective visions and drilled dense spaces. Memories can be marinated in colors too. Memories are as sharp edged bamboos dipped in black Tinta china to draw precincts. Views are transparent fishhooks fastened to massive blocks of imaginations and thoughts are beings and can translate to compound allegories. Life is a mass in the center of a space with four boundaries of choices. Trespassing the fourth boundary is finding the fifth.

Pushkin e h 2014



Sunil Vilas

This is a poem by Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941) Noble prize for literature 1913 Poetry / Music / Art – The first Asian to receive the honours. He wrote poetry, fiction, drama, essays, and songs; promoted reforms in education, aesthetics and religion; and in his late sixties he even turned to the visual arts, producing 2,500 paintings and drawings before his death.

UNENDING LOVE by Rabindranath Tagore

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it’s age old pain,
It’s ancient tale of being apart or together.
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,
Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time.
You become an image of what is remembered forever.
You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the heart of time, love of one for another.
We have played along side millions of lovers,
Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting,
the distressful tears of farewell,
Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.
Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you
The love of all man’s days both past and forever:
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours –
And the songs of every poet past and forever


1 Comments on “International poetry Lounge”

    (A poem)

    I will meet you at the hallways of time
    Where all your rancor will be forgotten
    And only your loveliness remains

    There’s no single room of awareness
    To park consciousness
    Upon a shelf and retire

    Your gain — precious friendship
    Hoisting wings of angelic passages
    Streaming to emerald interceptions

    Your loss — deftly tossed to dusty bins
    Where harsh words of charcoal forgetfulness
    Are compost for the progeny of unborn diamonds

    I no longer ask for your recognition of lack

    Or times you shortchanged the wisdom of shadows
    Offering instead sturdy spiderweb sunbeams
    Providing safe passage
    Through an interwoven blackness of endless space

    Even as a god or goddess tadpole
    You may ask very quietly for directions —

    And for every moment of attendant exhaustion
    Struggling to manage your earthly affairs
    A meadow of impossibly sumptuous wildflowers
    Awaits across sprawling coffin garden beds —

    Where a sleeping beauty of indwelling possibility
    Is awakened by the simplest kiss of self-love
    Upon losing long-rusted,
    Confounded chains of limitation. The only appropriate response

    Appears to be the astonishment to be reborn
    And still remember who you are

    Finally, I shall not detain you
    Once you slip into your chrysalis tuxedo
    On your way to the midnight pumpkin ball

    I will keep our predestined date
    At the twilight hallways of time
    And without a single instance of regret

    Hold you in my arms
    During our first dance after your death

    Upon the rays of first light
    In this promised sunrise of infinity.

    *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

    © Darius Gottlieb …

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