The poetry of Timo Franc
Here is a PDF copy of the latest poetry booklet from Timo Franc a selection poems celebrating Massoud, Lion Of Panjshir and National Hero of Afghanistan Massoud PamphlettFREEDOM… (Heterogenous head)
Red mist flowery rain diving solitude
you sweet child face of unspoken eyes
a dynasty washed and dried on ice petals
scared of shadowing the tribal conclusion
leaves me alone, but free gliding with your eagle vapour
crying succour glinting pride, for you. Awaken the slumber,
of my social declaration
The startled inclination for action
How… my darling of harvest… will it be.
Yellow vision of nightsight, slide toward each other. Crazy configuration congratulating a corner of can’t..
Cross the heavenly border of many roads,
different journey , every stride alienating a belief
“glad the outcome” gifted the holy thief
The fight of discontentment
Will charm us … disarm us…
new seed of post religitic and poligious age.
Glad of the freed torment to disengage
Silently bleating that spirit guide
Of cornerstone genocide
n’godlike rage
thank you glory’s icon
dreamlike style caress my ornate fortune
graciousness is the piety of our legacy..and I for one am blessed with your divinity to kiss the wind and create this state of mind … in which … you
apodictically set me free…
F… is for FREE verse (vers libre) …speaks for itself … (but usually with a touch of brevity stellarly licked and cadenced ).
JOYOUS… (Saxicolously salutary)
Who’s the man with the master plan
The Lion of Panjshir from Afghanistan.
neo politic chewing the fat
to the rhythm of a shifting map.
Living in the valley of dreamless nights
snow leopard rare to behold
with the eagle in sight born slippery ripple of light. Splash of innocence cry with delight,
your charm will make them see
a white rumour of ecstacy.
The grace of the
snake in the long grass
striking for victory.
The song will last
and have dance
to his silhouette, long gone
through mountain pass.
Lead his people out
Of time lie.
Sharing mulberry with a fly by.
In the infinity drum cry,
Driven by the crime lie.
Baby silent mindful eye
disabled child, wrinkled and mild.
Theatre of War and its drama, said some
not risking to be poking fun.
Where is my arm mama,
her red stump glistening in the midday sun…