Poetry

Realistic Horror

 by Vilma Hyttinen

The stone ship sailed with a skeleton crew

None of whom knew what to do

Nobody could yell, nobody could move

They were all terrified by the view

Of a ship full of humans having a chat

They for sure could not do that

And what a terrible thing would that be

To be able to talk, to be able to feel

 

”Poor humans” they thought

”No matter how hard they had fought

They had to leave the skeleton life

And move on to the other side

I wish them luck with the human heart

I’ve heard it’s squishy and can break apart”

 

One skeleton nodded, others waved goodbye

Looking at the humans with their empty eyes

But, to their biggest surprise

The humans just screamed and no hands were raised

 

The skeletons rattled ”How odd is that!”

”No one greeted, no one raised a hat!

They probably want the skeleton life back

They screamed to get what we have!”

 

”Human life must be tough

I’m lucky being a skeleton

It’s more than enough!”

 The dark silence 

 by Jannica Lier

In the muddy hall, 

visited the dark silence. 

In the words of a stranger 

it found its way in. 

There we stood, 

aware of the echo of water 

becoming louder with every drip 

that dribbled down on the floor. 

 Incapable of crying

I lay my empty gaze down. 

On the floor sprawled wet clothes, 

 the silent sigh of a corpse. 

Heartbreak

by Noora Karasti

Tears just will not stop

They flow on my cheeks freely

I am almost hiccupping

Can not breathe normally

My eyes are stinging from crying so long

They fill with tears again and again

This feels like it’s the End

Even if I know it is not the End

My insides feel painful

Like they are on fire

I try to swallow

A sob is in my throat

It wants to escape

I let it

Tears drop from my eyes

Towards my cheeks

My vision is blurry for a moment

A blink later it clears

I can feel the sobs coming and

I am not able to stop them

I feel this sorrow through my body

I feel the pain, the loss

It feels like I am leaving a piece of me behind

Which I am

I close the book before me,

and close my eyes

I feel empty and hollow

Tears still will not stop

Will they ever?

My heart is broken.

Trickery

 by Juhana Ojala

 The excitement, pleasure, even bliss, of a fleeting moment

Dissolved into a fog of shame, disgust, and guilt

Stream Pool

 by Mikko Aaltonen

 Crossing a forest path

 a brook curves

 to slow its current

 into a pool.

 Together

 the sunbeams and surface

 weave on the yellow bottom

 a flickering web.

 A water strider sees

 its dark reflection

 in a sandy mirror,

 its every twitch

 accompanied by

 mute widening echoes

 of lambent rings

 under the needles

 of a fir branch drooping

 its guiding shroud.

Arrow in the Autumn
by Jaakko Anttila 

I taught myself to think with tools
With arrows, edges, ruthless rules
Until one bright September day
A siren sang it all away

And
soon
my
path
was
clear ahead
Her voice so tempting as she led
My ship to where my
mind could feed
With endless
tales for
me to
read

Dance with me
I am the text itself
Fly with me
Feel the freedom
Drop your arrows, hunter of truth
My birds fly ever free

Now it is autumn again
And I am lost in a golden forest

Dance with me

The leaves here never stop whispering

 


The Atlantic
by Aadrita Kar

Crimson hair, ocean eyes, slender figure

Comes from the feisty land of the North

Sóley is filled with love, life and laughter

Accepting only the nutrients Mother Nature has to offer

Spending her days walking to and fro between the ancient bookshelves

Wondering how she got there with her overachieving brain cells

She paddles her life away riding on the cycle of eternity

One day she realizes her eyes aren’t the ocean anymore 
They have seen the brutal truth of dream in its very core

Then she decides to become one with her reality

Painting her future with the strokes of scarlet, royal and gore
 



There sat down, once, a thing in Henry’s heart

by  Katriina Sark

(Note: the first line of this poem comes from Dream Song 29 by John Berryman)

There sat down, once, a Thing in Henry’s heart.

The Thing so tiny, it could fit in the smallest part.

There it sat, arms around its feet

feeling all alone,

    alone in the dark.

One day the Thing woke up and got an idea;

”What if I SPARKLE and bring the light here!”

The Thing began to SmilE, merely corners of the mouth towards the ceiling,

It thought, ”Oh, this is way way too big, too big a feeling!”

The Thing wouldn’t stop,

It tried so so hard.

But soon it started to feel hot, like a bonfire backyard.

The Thing in Henry’s heart then stretched its arms,

brushed the chamber ceiling.

It became open to the idea, idea of leaving,

           the heart,

                         it had been the Thing’s home for so so long…
                         so the Thing changed its mind and tried to sing a song.

But when the song didn’t light up the heart

the Thing sat down again,

began to wonder: ”What would help then?”

Out of the blue, Henry’s heart started pounding, beating and to rumble surroundings.

The Thing f
                     e
                         l
                            l    
 
                          down                    and hurt its ankle.

This felt so so sad, too sad to handle.

A few days later,

the Thing in Henry’s heart survived, realized that everything was fine.

And that was how the Thing finally got,

                                                                                  it got the light into the dark.

Ocean
by Joni Rintala

We are floating, in that wide still blue...
The ship on the ocean, bobbing up and down
With no wind in our sails, just, stillness...
no one anywhere, not on the horizon, not around.

There is only the slow flow of the ocean
aimless; yet, neither of us has admitted that
lying to ourselves that... we are on our way
perhaps, one day, our story shall be a caveat

going through the motions, just to pass the time
each day, it all means less and less to you
hoisting the mainsails, purely a waste of time
each day, this all means less and less to me too

The setting sun is glinting off the water
shining in our eyes; we can't ignore it now.
What are the words I'm supposed to say?
Maybe the next day will work out, somehow-

I am watching you as you float away
both of us, hoping for different shores
and I see other ships, sailing away safely
while I float in the water- like a corpse

I am waking up, in the sand, in the cold
The ground beneath my feet, stable yet again
I am ashore, not the prisoner of the seas
hoping to eventually see better days



A singing lesson
by Iina Karasti

"Mom! Jouko fell into the swamp!"
"What did you do, Väinö?"

Composed of Words  

by Kristian Wester

It is the good Doctor Freeman Quimby
who finally asks
how did the gods create People

everything begins with Burning Fire
(there are different species of fire)
then two-thirds of forest honey, & herbs & flowers from a sunny mountain meadow
& cast-iron rails of the railroad
one-third is of pure gold

multiply the organic matter with the Trees of the Amazon
and introduce the results into the Venus equation
the ancestral all-father:
a flying professor of Philosophy

and the creatures that spawn from within
shall represent the millions of the world

that is the seed of eternity…

Orca

 by Ville Nousiainen

Oh 52, I'm calling you.

I adjust myself and send my Set Of Statics.

I hear porpoises, belugas and blues,

yet the distance, the distance remains.

Oh 52, I'm lonely too.

You're the beacon miles away.

My sonar is calling every frequency,

yet the distance, the distance remains.

Oh 52, I'm feeling blue.

Do you ever wonder if they can see you

when they drift away?

I could be right in front of you,

yet the distance, the distance remains.

Oh 52, I'm beyond rescue.

Every day I'm losing a bit of my significance

when screaming for a likeness never to be found.

The mass is turning into mysterious creature

resembling Ahab’s dream

yet the distance, the distance remains.

A shape poem by Aino Kemppainen:

Balloon animal

I want to follow you like a dog

In the evenings settle down at your feet

But that is not enough

What if I’m not the kind of dog you want

If I’m a shaggy and drooling creature

but you prefer those that look like rats with makeup in a handbag

Maybe I should be a balloon dog

You could shape me as you like

Small dog with long back

Big dog with short legs

And if you don’t like dogs I can be anything you want

A Monkey that makes you forget your sorrow

A Snake that coils on top of your head like a hat

And when you don’t need me anymore

you can just pop me

It’s more socially acceptable

than shooting a dog

shed

by Pinja Irri

(Note: This poem is written without the use of any punctuation for reasons of expression.)

when did the trees begin to be that leaky

drops not chilling but biting and salty

the path so curious

now being there just to wrench your ankle

a birch

bent against wet heavy snow

once almost frank

until the next rain

and it learned to stay like that 

and when the light passes

you go with it 

and start your duties

because whats the point to stare

at that old truck wheel swing

fun to play with

when its all changed to a rocky one

not answering to your thirst

and the rough rope allowing the fun then

the bent to the verge

well

you know

Home
by Emma Luoma

It’s so silent
I might disappear
loose track of time and follow
how the wind moves between the trees
how it cuddles the earth

It’s so similar
as it was back then
the routes of the roads are where
the clouds have seen them before
thousands of times

Here I could vanish
live and secretly love
grow my roots deep and
leave my shadow 




Silence
by Leena Nykänen

Like a morning mist
it floats in air.
We are wavering shapes,
unidentified figures
to each other.

Don't see.
Don't hear.
Don't understand.

As two north magnets
we move around.
Avoiding, or flinching
when approaching
one another.

Don't touch.
Don't feel.
Don't get close.

Let's keep the distance
and make our own spaces.
Feed the misunderstanding
and bitterness
against another.

Don't speak.
Don't tell.

Don't break the silence.




You are.

by Paula Nykänen

Lust.

Making this world go round.

Round, round and round.

Lust!

You must!

Take off your pretty little panty-Ho´s

Show me a bit of that skin of yours.

Nothing there to see,

No place for you to flee.

Still the eyes thirst some more,

Penetrating stare with glee,

Piercing through your void.

You think this act is vile,

Yet it’s the only thing real and alive.

You are The One,

Anyone,

No one.

Words,

Already thrown in the air.

Spent and used.

Still the mouths pound the words

Spitting them out like revelation.

Grinding, mashing, gnawing.

The mill is everlasting.

Only dust through the air.

Your words are everything,

Anything,

Nothing.

Recycled dreams of beatitude

In the sustained order of pandemonium.

You think you never die,

All you dread is the grave.

Escape, try, hide.

Soon you cannot deny.

The only place for the soul to rest

Lies beneath your feet.

You are The One,

Anyone,

No one.

objective

by Susanna Sihvonen

though I value

abstract concepts

there's an allure

to some aspects

of you

that few

respect

or pursue

I may hold you

in my hand

and perhaps mold you

like wet sand

and behold you

until I’m told

to do

something bold

and something

new

before growing

old

and I rise

I am swayed

by the advice

to have laid

eyes on you

for such a long while

I see

that there must be

a better use

of my time

which I will

find

and still

I choose

to muse

your lack of a mind

you're forever

free

of a bind

so vile

and never

confused

An Autumn Dusk in Mountain 

by Wang Wei (699- 759) translated from the Chinese by Yiwen Li

After the fresh rain

    in the secluded mountain,

Messages of cold arrive

     in the dusk of autumn.  

Through swaying pines

      the bright moon shines ,

On crystal rocks,

      the clear spring flows.

 Bamboos whisper---

      the washing girls go home,

Lotus stirs,

      the fishing boat wakes.

The splendor of spring may fade away,

       still an appealing mountain

            for you to stay.