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

Mad poet, mad poetry

 I stay awake in the night

Chewing gum,

Spitting,

Chewing gum again.

I stay awake in the night

To write.

They say you have the whole day.

Yes you do;

A whole day

To listen to someone else,

To speak for someone else,

To be present for someone else,

To write for someone else.

But I want to write for me;

I want to write poetry-

Love letters to my own soul,

Music score for my heart.

So I chew more gum,

I spit,

And drink coffee again and again.

And I take a walk 

Through the veins in my heart,

Through the misty paths of my soul.

The veins may be throbbing in flowers,

Or deadened by the cold.

The paths may be drawn over mountains with vultures

Or valleys with hungry wolves.

But I walk through

Without weapons,

Without maps, Without hope.

And I cry into my pillow

Or laugh at the bug hurling itself into the lightbulb.

I may lose a leg or kill a wolf;

But I never let the vultures or wolves kill me.

Broken

Or in one piece;

An adventure is an adventure.

And they don’t understand the joy I go through in the night

After taking a walk through my own heart and soul,

And writing a travelogue on it

In the form of poetry.



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

The days

 The days float quietly Like a bubble on a cup of coffee, Going round and round With the entire ceiling reflected on in; A ceiling that’s cracked And lacking paint here and there As if covered by blisters That never seem to heal… Blisters inflicted By age and moss, That expand… With the paint falling off But by bit. One day a scratch of paint will fall into the cup And pop the bubble, Making the tea forget All that it saw of the ceiling… Making the tea forget That it itself exists…
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