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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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Knight

 


He’s a Knight

Riding an injured horse

Through woods and villages,

With his sword held high;

A head on it

Coming down from the tip...

Cutting deep with every gallop;

Eyeless,

Open-mouthed,

Smelling of black blood;

A waxy solid that flows

And hangs under the chin,

Moving right and left,

But refusing to hit the ground...

Much like the man before he was killed...

Refusing to fall and live...

Choosing to fight and die.

He’s a Knight

Riding his injured horse

Which finally stops

And endures the beating rather than move.

The horse stops

And the blood that survived all the galloping

Drip to the white flowers below;

Alive again...


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