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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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Death and funeral

 I'm sick,

And I wake up to find an apple on the window sill outside,

Stern in the wind,

Snow collecting in its bellybutton.

I'm sick,

So I can’t get up

Even though I know the apple keeps the doctor away.

I can’t get up,

And the apple stays there through the spring,

The snow in its crater melting for me.

But the birds snatch it away,

And I lay hoping

That at least the apple is for me.

I lay hoping

That it'll stay.

It stays

And develops spots,

And wrinkles

And wrinkles.

It stays

Until it falls out the window one day;

A skeleton being buried

And nothing more.

















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