Category: Poems

AN EARRING LEFT IN MY HAND All the time I heard their whispering voice. But I didn’t mix it with my sighs. Because they touched my ears, I

SEARCH „I searched in your body for the garlands of thirst, for the path of pomegranates revived by the grey squirrels of silence, for a mauve sunset, or

THE PLEAS OF THE CHILDREN “Houses should not burn. Bombers should not be known. Night should be for sleep. Life should not be a punishment. Mothers] should not

  THE SCENT OF HUNGER Not a word about the wilting no humility for the wrinkles in the face just to be a guest at this meal, festively

SECRETS I cannot tell you about my secrets as my secrets are still ripening inside me (Mei Er, contemporary Chinese poet) I cannot tell you my secrets. My

Beyond the World The poet will never forget the roots of fire nor the light of the word. His eyes, widened with wonder, see beyond the world behind

POETRY DAY So grey this cold winter morning. Within sight the monotony of by passing cars Behind it the sea devoid of the sun disconsolate and dull like

DESCRIPTIONS OF A HARBOUR for Roberto Montenegro 1. Dawn With heavy colours the seascape paints itself. Things are asleep. Arising, dawn looks like a bubble over the sea.

THE BIG LIES   The big lies don’t really have short legs. Their legs only appear to be short because their arms are so long. The arms of

WORDS How false or worn out they yet may be, some words remain as hidden traces etched in the soul that even time is unable to erase. GERMAIN