Poem: About Time

Time should be a logical thing

made up of dates, hours, minutes, seconds...

one following the other, same measure – anyway you look at it

It may have happened a year ago,

but it seems it was yesterday

It may have happened a few months ago,

but it seems it was few years ago

as if our internal clocks go as they please

with a mind of their own

such a relative thing, yet it controls

much of our thinking and planning

It has many expectations – what

we expect to have and achieve to a certain age

not questioning if we are ready

but searching for a perfect time

also has its flaws

 

Do you know how many hours you spent sleeping?

And how dreams bend that perception of time?

And how hard it is on some days, to just get out of bed

How many dreams have you dreamt

from the worst nightmare

to the feelings we could only dream up?

so many problems you resolved

as you drifted away

from the stairs of the past

from the promise of the future

time has ability to cure many woes

you live in a maze of space and time

and all you have is now

everything else is a distraction

we all yearn for the moments

when time just stops and stands still

like when you look into your lovers eyes

and there is just the two of you in the universe

*

Written for the Mag #288

Poem: Edges of the heart

can anybody count the number

of wishes falling stars carry?

or the secret talks of yearning

that were confided to the moon?

so many different versions of love exist

and we all search for the right one

to put balance in our life

to show us some new meaning

it may feel like falling of an aeroplane

when starting the first conversation

or it may be easy, trusting what will happen

once you cast away the shadows of the past

and let go the footsteps previous lovers left

all we really want is for someone

to warm the cold edges of our hearts

*

 And this is my 200th post here. That is all ;)

Poem: To a grandmother

it's been ages since the house last felt

the curious steps of a child

or parents sitting on the balcony

pondering at the end of the day

viewing the land beyond them

it still stands here, as a reminder

of lives that once lived here

this is the place you were born into

where you began your journey on this earth

a life that showed you many paths

but you were always strong

strange to realize I'd like to talk to you now

for when I was a child, you had a different role

and what did I know then of passing things

maybe it was best for you to leave and not see

how your family fell apart after you left

as if you were a glue holding them to each other

Poem: Letting go

as I search for the house of sun

to perish the sorrows of the past

the wrong doings that took place

I realize that we will always be learners

we are what we think

our thoughts flow like fish

either with the current or against it

but until we learn to master them

we can use a flash light to mark the blame

or a magic wand to lose ourselves

beliefs build up our realities

they are so easily accessible

from a fountain to a telephone

the path can have many peaks

and descents; it may feel like

it will never change

but all is there for a reason

when you stop to let go

and accept yourself

the direction will also change

*

Written for the Mag #284

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