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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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Writing for me

 


Writing for me

Is the fog that clothes lonely branches,

Birdsong during sunrise,

Michelangelo’s ‘The Creation of Adam'

Where the fingers finally touch…

Writing for me

Is an hourglass

Where one can see the sand flow down

Indefinite,

Without being turned…

Writing for me

Are green veins on a black skeleton,

Pulsating with blood,

Not knowing

That it is staying alive

For itself alone…

That it is staying alive

For being stepped on by a man

Running away from another man,

And blacken to death

Slowly…

From that squashed point,

Towards all ends,

Slowly…

Like a Houdini

Expected to come out any moment,

Dying in the box

Without air…


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