Here comes the strom
You have been hiding from
For years...

Your soul is jittery
And your heart
Vapour

The expectation
Of your ego
Like a landslide

Yet life
Is waiting for you
After the storm

Yet hope
That the rain
Will purge the droughts

That fire
That will eat
The ailing trees

And you
Making it out
Alife

What will happen
If you
Survive?

She shall live on
In you
For lives are poems
And poems never die

The heart you plant in a soul
Is eternal

World poetry day
National poetry month
International poetry life
Universal poetry being…

Life is a poem
Struggling…
Told by a soul
Badly hurting…

Love is a life
Exciting…
Full of events
Always ending…

Days are like rhymes
Varying…
Yet at the end,
Repeating…

Hearts are like birds
Nesting…
Flapping their wings
Always singing…

Dreams are like friends
Visiting…
Always at night…
Leaving…

Love fades..
Life ends…
Friends lie…
Rhymes bend..
Pains stop…
Dreams die…
Souls cry…
Hearts sigh..
Birds fly…

And at the end,
Only poetry remains
*Eternal…

The well of poetry is dry
And the oasis
Who was once blooming around
Dead

Where is the rain?
At least the soft wind
The brings hopes of verses

Where is the night
That at least
Cools the burning sands
Of thoughts

Lost in the desert...
Of poemless dreams

Best place for butterflies to stand
Is on your cheek
So they can see
Your eyelashes
Wave like their wings…

Best place for butterflies to lean
Is on your lips
So they can feel
Softness beneath

Best place for butterflies to fly
Around your neck
So they can watch
How much you smile

Best place for butterflies to sleep
Is in your hair
So when they wake
They smell of spring

Best place for butterflies to die
Is in your hands
So to forget
Pains of goodbye

I am here
For you
How shall I help?

What type of balsam do you want?
Sweet injections for your ego?
Or bitter sirups for your soul?
Or maybe an operation in your mind?

But an amputation of your sorrows?
I am not qualified for that!
You have to bear the pain
Pain killers will **** you
Let the feelings sore on
Rot
And fall off

I shall collect them
And throw them away
To the dogs of forgettable times
And the snakes of ellsuive memories

Let them feast
They are hungry
For smelly things

You limp away
And move on
For love can grow again

Flowers stole music
From hearts in this spring, therefore
Bees are now poets

Life needs love to live
Love grows poetry in hearts
Hearts are now so pale

Green looks like blue now
Blue turned into brown and grey
Black is the new red

Nectar lost its taste
Gras does not smell anymore
Spring with no love hurts…

Oh, dandelion
Take me with you to summer
I am sad, this spring…

Please, dear butterflies
If you like in fall the leaves
Let’s together leave

I confess, beetles
Already missing winter
Let’s hide forever...

Where am l?
What happened here?

Are we still free?
Do we write poetry?

Are hearts still broken?
Have we resolved confusion?

Are friends still apart?
Is hope an illusion?

Are memories pestering?
Is loneliness still bitter?

Are souls escaping?
Do visions still jitter?

What happened here?
Do we still write poetry?