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Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
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Yesterday was

 Yesterday was

A photograph of the Eiffel Tower at night

Taken in the rain;

An ignored yellow flower in the weeping morning grass,

A hand-hold by a stranger.

Yesterday was

Sad,

A pigeon with a broken wing.

Yesterday

I tried to swim through a waterfall

And was taken away.

Yesterday

Was a blur,

A sight through frosted glass,

A glass of wine left to age,

A blade of weeping grass

That was never noticed,

Because all the grass cried

Together.

Yesterday was 

A shattered mirror,

A silhouette,

A half eaten biscuit left for the ants.

Yesterday was war

And I live to talk about it.



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