Poem: The cavern of my thoughts

how do you know how long to wait

do you smell it when the time is up

or do you blindly take a leap of faith?

how much of our childhood memories

have we changed with time? 

when age takes us over, will they still be vivid?

and do you know the answer to the question

why poets will never be scientists?

sometimes we need that alarm clock to ring louder

to get us back on the road again

as we counted the stars from sunset to sunrise

but forgot the number, because our lips entwined

by the camp fire we exchange conversations

that could fill a book, yet there still won't be

any black and white answers, as we would expect

since we don't like it to be gray, especially when

talking about future plans; some trust that the plane

will get them to the destination in the right direction

others would rather use a magnifying glass

to spy through the keyhole, but it wouldn't bring

nothing but a worried face; since you can't really

trust your eyesight, it has flaws as well,

like your mind.

Poem: Coffee and tea

it's the way it gently kicks you

in the morning or in the night

when you need to stay sharp

it's the way lovers first meet

with glances and smiles

exchanging hearts

the way we openly share

our experience with friends

the way we study

words into our heads

the way we find comfort

in those days of cold and sadness

the way it has become a ritual

for which we could fight

it's the way we speak about death

in hushed voices and with respect

knowing it awaits us as well

the way it brings people together

in all countries of the world

how much of our lives is shared

over a cup of coffee and tea

and how they will never know

Poem: A Puff of Smoke

a puff of smoke can dim the whole room

can't understand how loss can do the same thing

turns the colours into hazy tones

through eyes which can't see the picture clearly

all of a sudden, as if they are trying to pinch themselves awake

lungs anticipating the last breath

inhaling in deep gasps, sounding like an old machine

and you swear that an arrow went right

through the chambers of your heart

while the mind is trying to find logic behind

why some people just leave and things fall apart

in a puff of smoke and everything changes

or is that what the mind perceives

and it takes time to show us the illusion

*

Written for the Mag #282.

Poem: Late Summer

how much of your life

has been spent riding

on a wild horse, 'cause

one thing led to another

and you never stopped

to think and reflect

if it's the right way

do your lungs still breathe?

does your heart know passion?

do your feet touch the ground?

when something fails

causes you seek everywhere

but you failed yourself first

stroke the fields of grain

with your hand and feel

how the wind caresses everything

the feet yearn to feel the earth

connection to that old self they seek

and lungs to find that limit of their ability

like a child in foetus position

yearning to feel home surrounding

in the late summer you seek home

*

Written for the Mag #281.