Monthly Archives: January 2013

One of Us Is Crying

I feel so guilty, my dear friend.
Like you, I am an honest person,
I will tell the plain truth this time,
begging you on my trope knees to forgive!
I did what all my brothers did.

Forgive my wild imagery, my baroque chain of metaphors,
my desert without flowers and all my singing out of tune!
Look what I did, open your eyes above your grass roots world.
I made you waste your pristine love,
your timeless memories, your treasured moments.
I drowned your life in despair. I was so lame my friend,
unable to shine brighter, to gather readers for your words
to understand your real feelings.

I’m a heartbreaker, I’m ashamed.
No one looked closer in my eyes
to see how many sleepless nights, headaches or smoking abuses
I made you go through,
only because you trusted me, believing I’ll be good for others.
And the few who read me condemned you
since I wasn’t beautiful or attractive for them.

Hell over me! You thought about paradise islands,
your solitude, Robinson Crusoe’s Bible,
white fairies hiding inside cherry trees…
I am the one to blame. I was too greedy to express it all.
Your feelings were forget-me-nots,
I was a voracious weed killing those flowers one by one,
a poisoned mistletoe climbing your tree of wonders.

Do you remember when you ceased bringing life
to my brothers, the other poems?
Weren’t you happier those days?
I don’t call you mom, it is too late for that and I am guilty
for all your poetry dreams or harsh realities, my woman-poet.
I drained your Milky Way full of newborn stars.
I made you feel weak and despised.

Please take it easy, open your eyes,
forgive me.
Leave me.

Categories: My poems in 2013 | Tags: , , , | 1 Comment

Like a Child

Searching for the sun I can’t avoid shadows.
I write only under half shades, like in a hammock,
my feelings at ease, my body yearning for peace.
I don’t touch half meanings, double meanings
or forever meanings.
Wherever I turn my eyes,
imaginary doors are closed.

Then I try to trim my kite’s tail,
floating between sky and earth,.
drowning or rising.
My poems are a foamy sea,
the same water goes from wave to wave.
It tastes like bitter coffee with home made sweets,
baked twice a year.

Usually I feel like the tin man searching for the land of Oz,
writing is the oil that helps me walk.

Categories: My poems in 2013 | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

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