ewelina-nowakowskaWhisper

F / Polish

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Höststund20 minuter av frihet känns det / den härliga, kyliga brisen är renande. / Små fåglar delar glädjen av en ny dag.

18

1.8k

AuroraThe soft fur warms my skin, while taking a deep breath of December air. / I look out into the mist, the mountains are playing hide and seek again out in the distance. / I’m watching him let out a sigh from the corner of my eye, making me want to rush in and catch it, with my mouth. He smiles, knows I’m daydreaming of him again.

5

1.6k

PomalutkuCzytać nadzieje w poezji jest dużo jak rozumieć niebieski kolor w niebie, / ona czuje, zna ten perfum, co nie może sama sobie kupić. / Ten wiatr ciągnie, utrzymuje ale nic ujawnia,

9

1.5k

EminencePalms together, the cold air settles slowly but with purpose and clothes me in goosebumps. I haven’t worn a watch in years, don’t need to know what time it is, know my heart is about to stop. The wallcreepers are on the move, feathers flee into the mist. / The wind seeks my attention, wants to dry the tears as I huddle but I won’t fight the strain. This mountain is familiar and I count cracks upon the skin on my wrists, assessing age that of a tree, rings now too many. Smirking while in search of the great white titan, taller than any sequoia. / The sun is prowling, scouting for a Tricity born tellurian playing hide and seek for yet another day. I jump and for a solid moment I feel an emptiness, an ethereal weight, I gasp and try again, gasp, try… sigh…

3

1.5k

Aim of OakThis little light will / guide this boy through / troubles and crashed airplanes.

14

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imprintsVolatile nerves tremble and skin is raised, reaching. / I find an eyelash that clings, his gentle fingers are hard, gentle, never weak. / He blinks and so does the camera and I’m still, a breath caught within infrared.

4

1.2k

An ode to AcheLet them go, him and her, / the trees will allow them to follow / with their green veils,

52

1.2k

Pale BetrayalHe walks in silence, within delicate air, / and holds his clouds in his fist, afraid / of letting them go.

9

1k

DismaySoft, gentle fur and I hope I write this legibly when I’m ninety. Will I make it to ninety? / My cat insists and purrs with comfort as I think of growing old. It’s too long, breath isn’t meant to hold this many memories, yours and strangers’. I grumble. / Does she dream like me? Would I purr if I slept soundly like her, with so very few needs during the hours of wake.

4

949

Silver WallShe is my maiden of truth / in the born tissue of nature. / She keeps me shimmering and clean

38

916

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