Autumn Slumber I package myself in soft, tickling fantasies shipping myself in comfy covers for a sensation more than the five senses can excrete asleep, I fall into a misty typhoon an omnidirectional mirror with a blurry reflection I’m a shark chained to an anchor treading through this sea ploughing through the starry specks of… Allen Qing Yuan weiterlesen
Kategorie: Lit-Mag #45
International Literary Magazine – Disabilities and Diseases
Stefan Weber
Parkinson Blues I bin immer heiserDie Stimme, die wird leiserDas Oziagn dauert plötzlich längerDas Knopfloch wird auf amoi engerIns Schlüsselloch treffen is a Gfrett,Das Loch im Ärmel find i nedI torkel daher wie’s wahre BlunznfettOba auf amoi bin i 25Die oide Kraft schiaßt ma einI her meine Fans Stefan schreinI werd immer stärkerWerd zum Berserker… Stefan Weber weiterlesen
Charles F. Thielman
Four Poems Dark Boa My lover will soon rise out of her novel and help me walk back inside, injury sitting me at this balcony table night after July night. Solitaire by streetlight mixed with moonlight tonight, the 7 of clubs finding a home, the jack of diamonds kneeling on the robe of a black… Charles F. Thielman weiterlesen
Kevin Simmonds
The Amputee Locust & Half Frog her asanas held without prosthetic legs of wild plastics no asana for Kevlar none for acrylic How high her buttocks rose at inhalation eyes closed for the color wheel azure mist umber almond flown to coral When you can control nothing else you can control your breath She breathed… Kevin Simmonds weiterlesen
Ulrike Sajko
Menschen mit Behinderung Menschen mit Behinderung Zollen wir Bewunderung Zollen wir? Wollen wir? Schauen weg. Menschen voll Bewunderung Meiden die Behinderung Nur nicht hier Nicht bei mir Augen zu. Behinderung behindert nun die Menschen mit Bewunderung Stolpern drum Fallen um Weggeschaut. Wie dumm.
Horst Lothar Renner
Ein Gedicht nebenbei ich lebe mein leben kaum noch gehend so nebenbei ich bereite mich vor kaum noch atmend auf das nichts ich spreche mit mir kaum verständlich nach aussen stumm ich löffle die suppe ich esse sehr wenig ich trinke nur wasser ich ahne den schmerz ich rieche moder ich sehe gespenster ich höre… Horst Lothar Renner weiterlesen
Wilda Morris
Parkinson’s Poems Dinner with Dad I pull my hands off the table, lay them in my lap. They want to reach out, take the bread and table knife from Dad’s grizzled hands. It hurts to watch his painstaking moves, the way the glob of jelly slides without spreading, threatens to fall in his lap. My… Wilda Morris weiterlesen
Humphrey Mass
Folding At Dawn She felt listening to the Gregorian would flush out her hurt; the deep agony even that music which itself seemed to be sang for pain could not heal. She still felt it creeping up her throat within slowly biting every sense of comfort and dimming her hope and as every second ticked… Humphrey Mass weiterlesen
Brett Dionysius
Five Poems January 10th The hearing aid dog was well-trained & shuffled backwards with everyone else to the rear of the lift, as if it had been taught good hospital manners too. Its tail wagged for the human company, begging for the reward to come, as they made room for the elderly cancer patient. A… Brett Dionysius weiterlesen
Gerburg Garmann
„Painting is yet another foreign language for me and allows for aesthetic expression in form of color, shape, thought, and passion. It is a language, which can be shared by many, verbally and non-verbally. Because paintings (just as other forms of art) provide symbolic as well as real meeting grounds of the spiritual and our… Gerburg Garmann weiterlesen