Poem: I knew you

I knew you,

although I'm sure 

our paths haven't crossed before

I knew you, 

like I know my toes

sipping warmth from the soil

I knew you, 

like I know my fingers

steeped in paint

I knew you, 

like I know the rhymes

I form from out of that internal dialogue

I knew you, 

like I know the crooked smile

I leave when I do something mischievous

I knew you, 

like I know that if we wore the same shoes

the steps we'd take would be unique for each one of us

despite the difference of opinion

or for that reason in particular

we are to be and love one another

*

Poem: Imperfections

above the treetops

                birds extend their wings of freedom

the thoughts you hold inside keep your mind captive

after a certain amount of time spent

you grow accustom to this silence between the walls

disrupted by a rhythmic spreading of the lungs

as if wind were dusting off the dirt

that the road has left on us
 

the world we create

                forces us; to convert our values

- our faces to fit the made up standards

making a race to keep up with the money-making machine

selling youth and beauty, labeling age as a disease

friends turning into numbers, and we're adding them up

on screen, once they have passed the test

                caved in under the pressure

into a swirl it grabs us

some never realize the slaves they've become

others shed a tear for the person they could've been

                                  *

I listen to your voice

                taking me places I've never seen before

and you said: »I love the moon for its imperfections.«

Poem: Poets' Sleep

Poet's Sleep, 1989, by Chang Houg Ahn

before they pour down on these pages

I strive to make my thoughts comprehensible

yet sleep captures me; into a dream I flee every time

silence – a familiar friend – accompanies

the feet of a wanderer

muse has been throwing rocks at my window

broken glass lays scattered

showing skulls of people lost forever

like my voice immersed in these poems

words captured together forming skeletons of ideas

who will recite them and hear me?

nonetheless, my journey through the fields

of imagination is a passion I don't question

I will be returning to them

until death infuses my flesh

- and even after, my spirit wishes

to haunt these skeletons it created

*

Written as a poetry prompt Mag #208.

Poem: Crestfallen

what if it were us

crestfallen in a semi-ruined city

observing our fragile lives collide

lost the instructions on how to be human

burying chances which could've made a difference

how many times have we been here before?

roaming the abandoned valleys

a collection of dismal smiles

haunts the stones that once made a home

those hours shared under the roof

future contains possibilities

of our unwritten stories we hold inside

for doubt eats them raw

and we fear what our words might initiate

if the dust of the universe is ever-present

then why aren't our building blocks stronger?

*

Poem: To hear you breathe

Photo of a postcard that was on a calendar.

in silence I awake, like thousand times before

conversations I keep unfolding with made-up faces

storms we create with stories we tell ourselves

the truth we find to be ice cold and lies covering like dust

we fail to keep the magic locked up

it disappears as if someone was shooting arrows at it

human voice becomes fragile against the tide of time

through a frozen forest I can still hear an echo of your voice

despite the deafening silence separating us

so lost and forgotten, yet it brings back the memories

of your touch, that sweet burning of the cheeks

I'd chase the starlight to hear you breathe

it's enough to stop the world spinning

the breath of life, which clings to us

we sell it for less or worship it for more

until we stumble and we fall

against that endless space between

*