When I will come back,
I will run
Through the snow,
Not touching the ground,
Leaving
Barely a trace...
I will stop near your windows,
All my memories will return
When I come back.
When I will come back
I will go to the house,
Where the smell
Of fresh bread
Reminds me of times
Long gone
And will tear at my heart
When I come back....
When I will come back,
The nightingales will sing
That old lingering
Nearly forgotten tune.
And I will fall
Defeated
By my own return
If I will come back…
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Feb 2019
About this poem:
It is all about living far away from the place where you was born and spent your childhood....
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He came
in the cover of the night
music
and street dances.
He came
with a shot of traffic jams
hugs
and good luck wishes.
He came
when I was sleeping alone
offering
restful sleep.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2020
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If I could only see
Far beyond the sunrise
And look for that place
Where there are no horizons
Dawn never arrives
And a misty sunset
Was a dream
Long forgotten in the past
As if life
Was a vacuum
Staring blindly back
And yet
There is nothing to see
Hope, was a nonsense word
Love, was solely meant
For the imaginative
I sought for beauty
Not within you
Only within myself
If I could only see
If I could only see
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2019
About this poem:
Deprsession and how those caught in the trap desperately try to escape.
My first poem for three years, trying to start again.
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I look out the window
see snowflakes.
Like ballerinas dancing
to inaudible music.
People wrapped
in colorful scarves
wandering
through the streets of the city.
They go to homes
to warm hands
in the bonfire of love.
I look out the window
my hands
are still cold.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2019
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I like to think
that you are.
Seeing your gaze
roving
along the lines
of my body.
Enigmatic smile
your lips
I like to know
that you are.
Grab my senses
longing smell
desires
whisper of secrets.
I like to feel
that you are.
Every particle
get an explosion
during a handshake.
I open my eyes
I do not think
I do not know
I do not feel.
Reality
it turns gray
shades.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2019
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In a not green, green room
dreams come easier
by the glow of the stars
of the Moroccan lamp.
In a not green, green room
the silence is broken
by the purring of the aggregator cat
or eagle owl hidden in the dark.
In a not green, green room
through the eyelash curtains
I catch the dawn rays in my fingers
weaving a green tapestry.
In a not green, green room
the emptiness of the sheets
covered the next day.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2019
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When I look at the window
stray clouds are starting to argue.
The heavy rain is crying with tears
washing the windows of my memories.
When I look at the window
fuzzy faces from the past
are rolling in my head
I can't forget them.
When I look at the window
I hang in the reflection of the face
which I know and seems alien.
When I look at the window
my days are leaking
through a sieve with large holes.
When I look at the window ...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2019
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Chrysalis
never thinks of herself as a beauty
but she knows that
what will become
inevitable.
She's waiting
until the right time comes
pupation time.
Chrysalis
will never impress with its appearance
no one will look
at her any longer
poets will not write about her.
She's waiting.
Metamorphoses
are an element of existence.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2019
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Don't shed your tears for the one
who doesn't deserve it because
the one who deserves it won't make you cry.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2019
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There are days when you cry
though not a single tear
does not run down the cheek.
There are words
that are born in bitterness,
though they will never be said.
There are moments
of great loneliness
although it is full of people.
There are cloudy days,
full of rain
and one would like
to sink into their streams.
There is a time
when you want to find yourself
but don't know where to look.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2019
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