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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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A truly good morning

 I slant my bicycle on the post and sit down

To watch the blue mountains.

The heart dances;

A million sunflowers turn to the sun,

The flamingos take off,

The girl at the Starbucks smiles

And draws a heart on the boy's coffee,

Without him asking.

The day is so good,

My poetry falls short in putting it down.

I have tea and croissants in the mornings

And walk out

To see the sky wake up 

With red sleepy eyes,

To see the birds go by

In V-shapes,

To say hi to the old man next door,

Planting red tulips under a blue sky.

The day is so good,

My poetry falls short putting it down.

We need something more now.


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