Paternsonix POETRY   They are not heavenly voices speaking to us from deep in the distance. They are well-loved voices, inner voices, faraway voices, voices that signal a

Vincent Van Gogh   Short description of a summer   Fires. The summer blazes fourfold from all sides. The acacia groves are in a stunning bloom. In the

Artificial Intelligence Will our eyes soon see what themselves see? Will our brains still think what they think? Will we still be who we are? Germain Droogenbroodt III

TO THE DEAD POET OF OBSCURITY (In honor of the dead unpublished poet) Well done! You have won! You should not feel sorry Your unpublished poems -Always remember-

THAT PLUM TREE There are jasmines in all these gardens. I remember that plum tree that blossomed In every breezy and clear spring. The plum tree that sheltered

WITH A CHILD’S EYES   I want to see the world with a child’s eyes, almond-shaped, clear, limpid, and innocent: a meadow where people and flowers grow, where

The Seed of Poetry     A poem is a small seed, a life that breathes while waiting for light. Where the eyes and the mind rest, it

Painting by Tyoma Wind of Solitude   What wind of solitude, cunning and strange, is gusting wildly through this little night? Why does it come, relentless, galloping on,

Painting by Rauf Janlbekov, Azerbaijan     AGAINST THE TIDE   Poetry seeks its path against the tide. It cannot change the path of man whose future is

Painting by Frans Minnaert, collection Ithaca Foundation   I Can’t Love You  I feel your beautiful heart, And I can sense all the romantic stars of the night,