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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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Life touches

 


Sometimes,

Life touches me

Like a low hanging branch of Bougainville

Nodding up and down,

Gently stroking the water…

Making it giggle

Like a girl

Cuddling with her man

In a shabby room

On a winter night,

With radio music,

And an old TV

Going static and bright,

Static and bright…

It’s the same feeling

Of having a cup of tea

Alone on a park bench,

Listening to the finches

Sing songs meant to be heard together…

The feeling is the same,

But I choose the latter.

The former has been done to death in the movies…



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