Marina Sofia – Three Poems

PortraitMarina Sofia is a global nomad, temporarily settled near Geneva, Switzerland. She has published poetry and short fiction in a number of online and print journals and anthologies, but the poems above are untroubled by publication. She spends far too much time blogging, and is also part of the dVerse Poets Pub community and a regular reviewer for the Crime Fiction Lover website. She is currently working on a crime fiction novel set in Geneva.

High School Graduation – Memories from Abroad

The hunk MacFarlane said this was grotesque
and bitched all day. Saleh Al-Jaadi got wrecked,
while James and Mona finally yielded to their lust.
There must have been weed around that night, except
I never caught whiff. My braids never undone,
which is why Matthias drove past his house and cursed
and fussed at the scrape of metal against bollard.
Miranda retched on a doorstep, slept, awoke refreshed.
Next day, faces pale, guts wrenched, in Sunday best,
we picked our diplomas, reconstructed our pride,
brick-shake by brick. Years later, indulgence now just
a distant rumble, yearning scattered world-wide:
do we remember shameful endings? Or the zest
of all our cultures? Nation means nothing, all is trust.

Call the Bluff of Autocracy

Enough hop-skip-dance onstage! The severe librarian turns sultry.
Buried in the smell of books, she smoothes and soothes her pets,
glasses slip to end of nose.

Gangly line of conquered people know subservience as way of life.
Call it Circadian or transhumance, freedom of stream to choose its path.
Silence threatens to shatter emotions.

Oldest story in the world: two shepherds plot to kill a third,
for his flock, lopped off, marriage of generosity and suspicion.
Consigned to oblivion.

The hunger gnaws at us still.
Elbow-deep in soil
we unearth pebble-sized potatoes
bleeding starch…


A leopard cannot change while the sun shines, that much is clear
all that glitters in its spots will cross the bridge before the swine
so desist from putting your cart ahead to skin a cat!

There’s more than one way to lose one’s best friend,
(believe me)
don’t cast your pearls far from the tree.
Heed my advice: good things come to those who hang him.
Make your hay and spare my rod.

One man’s meat is not gold and an apple never falls to catch the worm.
If one man’s dog is another man’s poison, why does the early bird not bite
the hand that waits?
(and is not heard)



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