The talking tree

There will be a time

Of no time

A too late time

For being sorry.

(Speak now or silence will erase all wounds!

No scars, no leaves, no flowers!)

 

Sometimes you need to bleed it all out,

To carve deep into the skin

To peel it off from the world, the old times world.

(Hurry up, there will be a time of no time!)

 

Sometimes peeling your own skin is painful

Too scary, seeing your hanging skin

While flowers still you have to grow.

(What a hard time for a tree!)

 

But what a delicate, clean, white new skin you have grown!

(See? That’s what change is!)

 

(September, the 2nd, 2017)

 

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Each and every time

Poetry comes and takes possession of your mind, your words, your vision… sometimes of your whole life. She takes everything because she gives everything. She has her rights.

This new book, still in the process of pre-printing, called Memories, went through many changes. Who knows, it might be a natural, like the natural change of the seasons. 😉  Ten days ago three people reminded me of this book, all three in the very same day, August 15th. ‘Hmmm…’ I said to myself amazed by the whole thing. This date was full of meanings for me.  I know it’s hard to believe, but at that time I had no memory about Memories. 🙂 It remained somewhere in a foggy past while the present was filled with so many other things that redecorating house can bring. This process attracted a completely different poetry into my life.

I think this poem might sound almost the same translated into English. It’s the first in Memories, a short opening poem:

Each and every time

You could not see that I had wings.

I couldn’t see I had no soles.

We strived to find ourselves a common ground.

You had no wings.

I had no road.

(written in 2016)