Your fingers could play these old keyboards

Of this tarnished piano,

Which is our love.

They would crack always the same sound.

Your green nailed sight on this whip crack

Would be a very sweet music,

Strongly keeping

Our reality not to disappear.

You're still my love

Although, sometimes,

I may forget the notion.

You and your very wished piano

Were against my will.

You know I will never be there,

Although once,long time ago,

I swore to be there.

The sheer pain may bring,

Sometimes,

This love again

Into my will

To strengthen each other in this sorrow.

Well, it's a way to keep you safe in my heart.

So many years,

Your green eyes saw another sky,

While you were trying to be

Full of adaptability.

You quenched your thirst

For freedom.

It seems that freedom without love

Is possible,

But love without freedom

Is impossible.

Eyes huddled in fear,

That paralyzing fear  in front of bullets mercilessly sprayed,

Deep sprayed by the cruelty, which  must be fed

With victims,

Those defenseless victims of hate,

That dreadful hate ,which  is fed  with love  

As well as

Pleasure is fed with pain,

That extreme pain ,which embellishes the madness,

That round madness like a cold moisturized rosy-red,

A rosy-red ring-shaped patches and giant  Quincke swelling

And a boisterous cooling noisy  breathing,

Snorting breath like groaning a song ,

A love song for the dance of death,

A painful death for the warm puppets,

Beautiful puppets becoming cold wax mannequins,

Bleak mannequins  screaming in their red rain

Of feelings,


Red feelings coloring their sad moments,

Cool moments  of winter fires

In caves of shadows.

The autumn’s dream may keep its dying grace
With flecks and shades of bleeding leaves and  yellow.
The cold wind's scorch may wither the green’s space,
When fruits of green a bit more need to mellow.


And autumn’s tear on every leaf perceives
The cold wind, which scorches green so cruelly,
Till glass fleck shade of bleeding yellow leaves
The living world to meet its ground so coolly.

And autumn’s red may silence the bird’s voice,
When shivers of the tree the rain embrace
And nature's hide, having no other choice.
The winter slowly comes showing her white face.

Bronze bells' breeze of September showers,
Freezing fluttering fragile flowers,
Tearing the time's tide  tactile sense
May leave long  love's lighting lance in  tense.

Crying colors of cold old castles,
Stroke their sticky sounds without hassles,
Slipping silken sad sun into clouds
Hide the misty murmuring meadow shrouds.


Dancing  rain drops like bright blue bubbles,
******* birds bringing flying troubles,
Wild winds waving their wet wings around
Ghostly green gird up for glassy ground.

When love is sweet, the sweetness means its light
And light may keep the truth, when love is pure.
But love is bitter, when it turns to fight.
Lovers in fight are always immature.

But night of love may never come to dream
As pure light, where darkness never comes
And night of dream may swim in love upstream,
When darkness in the light always succumbs.

When love is true, the purity may hold
And lovers' dreams are never in the dark.
When angels' lights eternity enfold
And light of love may continue to spark.

MCN: CBD4D-ALF35-R1GHM

© copyright Thu Oct 20 UTC 2011 - All Rights Reserved

Sometimes I wonder if all my dreams will come true
Because I am sure that this is possible
I am always surprised about life
Like a little child who every day rises
And I hope that God will have opened up his light
Before the evil can hit my dreams.
I am counting upon my thoughts as I am thinking of you
Certainly I am prepared to die at any time
And really ready to live
And I expect nothing in life but the Truth.
I intend to open myself up to the world,
To breathe, and to win
I know indeed everything what I intend to do,
But stronger than all my afterthoughts is my fury,
Fury that brings upon the greatest love.
I pretend that everything is wonderful.
And I pretend that
I'm not crying when tears are bleeding down my face.
And I prefer the absurdity of writing poems.
I am who I am
And nothing can change me.

These frozen eyes of winter glittering so cruel
Like scorching flames of fire, icy hearts to melt
When hearts can make the flame to eye the night so cool
And cool the night in winter, frozen songs to belt


But winter's heart,so cool in light ,on ice love dwelt
And dwelt in our igloo like a piece of flame,
When flames are hearts of sorrow needing songs to belt
And igloo is a scene, on which we sing for fame.

Poem by Marieta Maglas