They say, poetry makes you imaginary
Far lost in words... disconnected
When they themselves began their lives
Singing rhymes, poems... twinkle twinkle li'l star
Sleeping to their gran's lullabies
Frolickin' in the farms...to the poetry of tall grasses
Dreaming of nature's poems...its soul rests within you
Growin' up with your beloved alongside
Writing letters to your love... replete with poetry so melancholy...
When thy love jilts you...you weave a song
......
When I first saw him,
I knew that he was mine,
He promised to make me thine,
Accepting my flaws and fines.
My smile spread across my face,
Anticipating to have a joint family,
Dreamt big to live happy,
With inlaws as parents,
And others as bro and sis,
Love has always been my search.
......
A hallow feeling that strikes in one's heart,
A strike that make one doubt themselves.
Taken or not a feel is a feel,
With none other than the fault of the heart,poor mind!
A world full of cold blocked eyes searching for a fault,
Who see the hallow, unhallowed.
One who should fall out, falls in,
Is it heart's fault, it's not, but the fault is possession.
One should have monomania, that's what they say,
But why to control with in the heart,
......
Words are real action
The reality is also sometimes stunned by words
Words that Absurd sometimes also have an affair with reality
Reality that plays with phenomena is sometimes not as idealistic as we think
The spirit in the equivalent word chosen as diction may be right next to the norm or ethics
The body in the heart of a word is always meaningful
The spirit that realistic in words is easily co-opted by symbols in the real world
Body of You, me and all of you resides in a name in a word that has special
meaning
......
The clock strikes four;
I’m never like before;
I’ve learnt to take life’s drink
Up to the lees from the brink;
Multiple layers of joy
......
i learned english by repeating these three
things:
"is" = a single non white candle flame.
"am" = a mirror speaking to itself the truth"
the truth "is" still a definition.
"are" = a chorus of frogs at midnight.
many candles and many frogs with blue and brown eyes
......
The mirror shows a face
but not the voice behind the eyes.
It reflects
but does not reveal.
We walk with borrowed names,
wrapped in customs
stitched by those
who came before,
each thread a compromise,
......
There is a moment
when the question no longer floats
but lands,
heavy and still,
on the floor between us.
What was once a flicker
becomes form-
a shadow that stands
where certainty used to breathe.
......
Es gibt einen Moment,
in dem die Frage nicht mehr schwebt,
sondern landet-
schwer und unbewegt
zwischen uns.
Was einst ein Flimmern war,
nimmt Gestalt an-
ein Schatten,
wo einst Gewissheit atmete.
......
Het begint met een gedachte,
een trilling in het onzegbare,
een gevoel dat zich uitstrekt
ver voorbij grenzen van taal.
In de breedste zin van het woord
is liefde geen fluistering
maar een storm die zachtjes ademt,
is vrijheid niet alleen beweging
maar de rust om stil te staan.
......