Monday, 17 August 2015

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

Tuesday, 11 August 2015

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.