I’ve made myself a clear philosophical stem,
From numbers not to count in humane nature.
You, you do count. I’ve spun into a little puzzle
Out by oneself–how duly walk of life on the lines as boards,
Tying up the landscape in joints, between eyes, words.
Today, x-thousand of you round here. I’d coif braid behind ear,
reminding myself, that a cloud is yet unmet with the lining scratch
As if my shredded membranes, which stitch the sinewy patchwork,
lengthwise strands of mare’s tails, with nightly Arcturus
And that outward clemency could vanish, not turning a hair
Without a trace of any of you, how acutely I trust wind,
But I’m uninhibited in these moments for you with the sign
Yet under a few shovels of earth and poetry fount
N’ode to You: starring behind the cirrus wounds

– 2 September 2014 © Samuel Sylf

Черты, поверенные нашим смыслом,
Двухсторонней песни,
Оба принять участие
в образовании любви.
Ночью нас застИгла грозА,
Но небо не заволакивается тУчами;
– Сердца города куда увидены
С всем, набиты наших развEдок
Твоё солнце греет мне
В чести на волнах
К обоим сторонам, я мечтаю
В счет индивидуальности
Хоть осведомлённая капля
По своей предпосылкой
– освобожденная
У нас коренной
долгосрочный диапазон.
О заводной голОвке улыбаемся
Избегаем что время не течёт
лишь обаятельно назад-обратно
Собственному воле
У нас пропорциОнальный
Дом цветы осени.

– 27 августа 2014 © cамуэл cюльф

His kind survival, undying for denial

– 2014 © Samuel Sylf

One of 17 lines in my poem

© Samuel Sylf
❝ None other story,
Multiplex simplicity:
No other exists. ❞

But say, we’re two when you shift for
That wide, to this scale of mind
Anyhow else, meet isn’t knowing
Better of both ways
4 of 28 lines in my poem

– © Samuel Sylf

❝ A few helping, little for anything. ❞

‘You need one right hand,’ he said for a factotum
We stepped out into a datum level of the street
So the beautiful hustle explained
All smiles beyond impetuosity
Gentled scarcity by a personal artery
I was too deep on the trot to remember
Today was the reminiscent night of art
Roseate people tinged with the sky

– 21 August 2014 © Samuel Sylf

SYLFIDI- there are days where I find myself wondering further than the last, days that border with the nihilists and then there are days where I am found by things which construct a far better day and the words I found from you were just that. Thank you for them.

Hands on the contrary,
nobody knows but a stereotype,
before it’s tried out with own bare hands.
A scientist, human being, nature
– they mean the same in this instance.
Life is an on-going process of new classics.
But think of the life-enduring side,
how this process could prominently
continue through a rosy midway…,
descended from two canyon-sides,
as it’s our planet, not a certain,
but all we learn between.
Only love, and only if a being was
value–for own’s origin
An axiom, there’s others,
There’s no ‘If not’,
I’d take it as ‘humanity reservedly lives
without a classic.’
You should read, get inspired,
get better by a classic,
with respect to perspective
life that was lived
as the originelli

– © samuel sylf

Your poems are a pleasure to read. I can feel the words, if that makes any sense. You should publish them!

Demand is fulfilled by an answer:
Content with an angle for mood,
whose wings are broken,
only while one’s bares
need a good decision,
characteristic stories, base.
The matter you receive by the fountainhead,
if cringed at, decision hand in hand.
I’d wish to keep the affectionate realm,
so purely, that your decision into is free.
For you, the way happens deservingly.

– © Samuel Sylf