Skip to main content

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…
Post a Comment

HILLSIDES AND POTS

 I thought the hill was full of white flowers

And ran to lie in the grass;

To let them tickle my ears,

And drench my shirt in fragrant dew.

I thought the hill was full of white flowers

And ran to lie in the grass.

But the flowers grew wings and flew away;

Butterflies:

White wings with yellow rings.

A Marvel against the cloudless sky;

Like a painting coming alive;

The paint sticking out here and there

Imperfectly,

Making it perfect.

I thought the hill was full of white flowers

And ran to lie in the grass.

But the flowers flew away,

And all the happiness I could get

Touched my heart gently

Like a porter being gentle,

Yet shaping the clay significantly.

But now it's gone

And the porter left before the pot was complete.

But the lump of clay still stays there,

Hardening into some bashed up shape

Like it was dug up from the sands of the Nile,

Like it is hundreds of years old.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Enlightenment

 One day coldplay came on radio And lifted my roof. I could see the sky And faces I wanted to forget And flowers I could not smell in the clouds; Flashing lights, Gunshots, Dances with some woman I’very never met. Oh Coldplay! Oh Tchaikovsky! How do you know The pain of one man out of the hundreds of thousands. How do you know what I’d forgotten. How can you care more than all I’ve met. You have more life than most people Because you have a soul. And a soul in man is rarer than the scriptures say. And a soul in man is dead if it still exists anywhere. Oh Coldplay! Oh Tchaikovsky! How do you know The pain of one man out of the hundreds of thousands. One day coldplay came on radio And lifted my roof. But then it fell on my chest And crushed me to a pillow of tears.
Post a Comment
Read more

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…
Post a Comment
Read more

Blue windows

  Blue windows open on yellow walls Like eyes which couldn’t sleep Due to the stench of the gutters, The loud clubs, The streetlights, The constant tickling of wet brown leaves From the wild trees That struggle to show That they are still alive. Blue windows open on yellow walls Like eyes that see and show At the same time This state of the world Where everyone has enough; Just enough wine to dilute a sorrow, Just enough cigars to burn a leach off of one’s heart, Just enough pills to put one into a trance Which one may Or may not awake from… More blue windows open on yellow walls Like eyes that couldn’t sleep…
Post a Comment
Read more