Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

Let them do the thinking

it is best to leave thoughts alone at times –
sent them on a distant walk
to the loneliness of a cold winter forest
or a windy beach in october

have them breathe some fresh air
and make them rearrange their lines,
give them time to heal from pain, from loss,
and let them find wisdom within themselves

while you yourself hang out on the sofa,
eating chocolates, watching telly
in a comfy warm room
not eager for their quick return.

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Promise me

That all the dead are soil now,
where flowers grow and trees and corn,
and every new-born life will go one day,

all this your face has told me
in silent moments of our meetings,
in my dreams, in streets, on railway stations,
and sometimes in a bed.

That all the soil is life now,
and that we met and we shall meet,
as we have done; I know.

I bet it’s true.
I’ll be the cauliflower next time,
if you will be the carrot.

The balance

she weighs the thought by the weight of her child
as she carries him up the stairs –
the boy seems lighter –
but she won’t speak of this with the father.

slowly she reaches the landing,
where she forces her thought over the balcony
as it would crash the bed of the little one,
as it would shake the house on its base,
and the walls be tumbling down.

Night

Inside the candle’s flame
the truth perhaps.
We stare away from darkness.

Do you think in my waves,
do I catch yours?
The flame stays put.
The truth stays there.

Your hands seem calmer
now the night sets in.
Out there the unknown creatures howl.

We are not there.
They are not us.
There is no saver place
than in a candle’s flame.

Don’t fool the fool

Don’t fool the fool with foolish gems;
He is too wise to understate,
Too happy for the words to mind.
Don’t fool the fool with foolish gems.

Don’t leave in Autumn for a better place,
See it through, the rain and storm,
Be like a fool and do not care.

There is a peace in turmoiled mind,
Acceptance of a higher kind
Only a fool can understand.
Don’t leave in Autumn for a better place.

Be too wise to understand.
Let words be such when nothing rhymes,
Don’t fool the fool with foolish gems.

As such. You are too wise to understand.
Accept me as the fool who minds.
Don’t leave me now it’s Autumn.

 

The ruins

The start of a life is a brick to a building, many more to follow
though the house is never complete. It needs a balcony for better views,
an attic to forget, a cellar for hiding, an extension or two after each surgery,
a garden to bury in.

And then the whole thing collapses, the ruins taken over
by oblivious weeds. Such are the streets our minds wander off to
in deep of nights, awaiting anaesthesia.

Shadows

Some shadows give a preview of the dark,
Tree leaves dancing on a kitchen floor,
An omen for the day the tree is dead.

We need no more proof that all is our imagination,
We are here; the tree is not, yet do we see it move.
I’m here for now. My shadow has its own life to continue.

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