Poem: Bring back colour

raindrops tapping on the window

are like my thoughts falling down to be heard

resonating deeper into the ears of a lover of thoughts –-

who holds a knife in a land of »what if«'s and »if only could«'s

in the end I always stand naked, with no place left to run to

there is a certain joy in throwing things away

changing our identities, fixing our routines

I dug a hole in my heart and waited what would fall into it

-- countless memories lingered there, locked up for years

-- funny how some things find balance on the edge 

too often I stood paralyzed -- swallowing my words

taking comfort in the thought if I hold my eyelids closed really tightly

I can erase a particular moment, pretending it never took place

on this side of my reality, but it seems unjust to the moment I'm living

to be influenced by another from the past

                               -- but my mind loves to cheat 

time brings a tide which washes away colour and leaves us

with faded memories; we so easily dismiss our past as how naive

we seem to have been; we are not who we say we are

never let go of the painter, who brings back colour

                                -- to what you almost forgot

*

Poem: We steal each other

snowflakes covered the freckles of her skin

as she was reminiscing about the taste

the air had, when they held each other

»Sweep me like the wind,« she said,

»to the place where conversation flows with no restrictions

and the sky turns into the sea.«

they swam until their veins were full of crystal water

and their vessels of soil embracing their hearts

                             with no resisting light -----

if you had to choose, which sense would you keep?

for we steal each other in many ways we can

finding beauty in little imperfections that identify us

mirrors are a proof of our lust

we all pay a price for love

and some »I love you«'s hold a BUT

and some, though be heartfelt, hold no future

but still no miles can ever separate us

even on a sunny afternoon she would hold out her tongue

   to catch the snowflakes

for it's the heart that won't give in

   to this avalanche

*

Blog: Part of me

I enjoy driving at night. It wakes me up, and the road is somewhat calm so it's easier to follow the stream of thought. I usually feel as if I could handle anything the night would bring, which is the opposite feeling the morning usually gives. And I remember night shifts at the birthing hospital, they were one of the fondest birthing memories. There wasn't so many people, everything was a bit calmer, until urgency called, but still I think I learnt a lot in those nights. It wasn't all that hard once I got used to it, but the walk to the bed in the morning, was the hardest and the longest walk.

Some nights are for driving and last night was one of those. The moon was shining bright behind some shredded clouds, mist was lifting off the land... Nightwish and Bruce Springsteen were playing on the radio, and the tunes swayed me from one memory to the other. And at times I felt so out of myself, as if that »teenager« doesn't exist anymore, I try not to disregard her for being unimportant and somewhat silly. 

»What's God if not the spark that started my life

Smile of a stranger

Sweet music, starry skies

Wonder, mystery wherever my road goes«

- Last ride of the day (Nightwish)

I had an urge to change the road I'm on. To just drive, leave everything behind, start a new adventure. And why do we “approve chains over us”... to quote myself.

»Now all them things that seemed so important

Well mister they vanished right into the air

Now I just act like I don't remember, Mary acts like she don't care

But I remember us riding in my brothers’ car

Her body tan and wet down at the reservoir

At night on them banks I'd lie awake

And pull her close just to feel each breath she'd take

Now those memories come back to haunt me, they haunt me like a curse

Is a dream a lie if it don't come true

Or is it something worse«

- The River (Bruce Springsteen)

Bruce Springsteen in particular was a very big influence on my writing, alongside Ryan Adams and Nightwish. I sometimes joke, if you put these three together you get my poetry. As for poets, I still have to introduce you to someone with whom I share similar writing style. Happened by total coincidence. 

It's been half a year since I had my knee repaired, and I still feel pain sometimes, and the kneecap can feel very unstable. My orthopaedist recommended me to strengthen my core muscles, and I was taken aback, didn't quite understand how could weak core muscles cause knee pain? But here's what I've learned: »The kneecap starts to get pulled around and bullied by the poor core strength and usually associated muscle tightness. We know from research that knee injuries can occur when large hip muscles are weak. ACL tears, which are eight times more likely in women athletes, have been shown to lead to other cartilage tears and to correlate with knee arthritis later in life. When the main butt muscle is weak, it causes the pelvis to drop and the upper thigh bone (femur) to fall inward. This imbalance creates painful downward stress on the hip, knee and ankle every time you take a step. Abdominal weakness will cause your pelvis to tilt forward, creating excessive low-back curvature and shifting the leg bones inward. You can experiment with this yourself: Over-arch your back and notice how your legs and knees want to roll in toward the midline of the body. Then flatten your back and notice how the opposite movement occurs at the legs. Strengthening the core helps to keep your back in a neutral spine position and places the lower extremities — specifically the knees — in the best possible position for movement without joint compression.« (source)

Last weeks have been painful, gastritis-wise, I don't know if there's a part of my abdomen that hasn't yet hurt because of my stomach. I am on a verge of becoming an annoying patient. I'm following all the rules as I should, and still it isn't getting any better. Or rather just when I think it got better, it gets worse. I do miss some foods, and at times I think maybe it won't hurt to try something, but it always does. As for my strange cravings, I'm craving meat like crazy. I guess it's the logical step, since I avoided almost all protein foods, because they didn't make me feel good. Now I'm catching up... one prosciutto with pasta at a time ;)

And then it hit me... I don’t know why it never hit me that way before. This body of mine is capable of caring for a new life, it can develop a whole new person. And what waste it is that it should be this weak because I may get anxious and may have had bad eating habits. That’s not a good enough reason. It can carry a whole new life in a small womb, which gradually grows, ‘til it becomes a shade of what it once was. And it can also feed a new life, it can produce everything specifically for that new person. And the new person I may someday, if ever, bring to life deserves the best start. 

Poem: To be human

 

I wake up half in gratitude, half in regret

                feeling the end is near

forgetting how to breathe in the sky

gratitude grows into euphoria, regret turns into fear

for my heart is aware that this life is final

a passing visitor is all I am to this world

and I try to make it matter

to justify my being here, breathing in

I focus on the light in the night that never goes out

round and round it spins, counting down the days

we illuminate the roads to see where we're treading

- as if they are able to reveal the future the roads are holding

- as if knowing the future would make us better decision-makers

these days will matter more to us when we'll be looking back on them

I fear losing future

or is this fear a fear of detachment?

when the world forgets us

we'll learn to disappear completely and not matter

nothing lasts forever but dust

all our children will judge our decisions

and what if this ache never disappears?

what if this hunger never settles?

only one thing is required

                ....to be human

to reach the light and leave a piece of it for those behind

but most important roads are never highlighted

messy hearts always driving home and never waking up

*

Poem: Birds of the same feather

it starts in a cornfield, where we ran away from each other

screaming out each other’s names, but the field was bigger than us

consumed the voices of our scared throats; thought we lost one another

but we had something to hold onto

                for we are birds of the same feather

and we raced over the land catching glimpses of today

to carry into the future – for they warm our hearts

knowing we have something to give, but the past erased us

consumed by fire; who will it take to search

                for little drops of our lives we caught?

ripples of conversations never exchanged resonate between us

your hands are like the ocean and my boat has been standing still

that's how I started, that's why it feels safe

to jump off a cliff and flow like a waterfall

                the moment you live is an everlasting travel

and at some time or another, a memory of me will cross your mind,

be I living or not, we shared a tiny fragment of the time past

and though we be strangers for the rest of our lives

we can reach inside and find each other again

                for no one truly dies, if they leave behind ripples

*

Poem: Warm the skies

years have streamed down this hourglass

                my heart quiet, as I wait

in sorrow we row our boats

                through stages of life

on this journey through darkness

                putting identification notes of what we are

                and of what we will never allow ourselves to become

so many stories we could have drawn down

it’s the strangers at the bus stop, anxious to leave that place

curious as to where the last stop is

we always think there is going to be more time

                it’s all connected somehow

instead of moving forward,

we’re chasing ghosts in the back room

let’s leave behind what identified our past

for future holds new notes for us to write on

it’s the things that we’ve never done

which lay heavy as rocks in our minds

and the sin we are guilty of is to never try

never try to warm the skies

- instead we make it rain

*