Blessed are the papers
that the poet writes on
for they will be filled
with mind and soul
Pieces of letters
Infinitely watering
the growing lilacs and daisies
planted in broken soils
Of moralities and immoralities
The curious wind hovers
Of fantasies and realities
It lands to the flowers
complex worlds
In the Paper, there it blooms
Unheard words
In the Paper, it unfolds
Covering scars or --
Opening wounds
through tattooed verses
of stories untold
Eyes and ears
in desperate propositions
Weapons and swords
in silent revolutions
A wondrous space.
Perhaps, it's an art exhibition.
of black inks in white textures,
the cheapest I've known.
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 2:53 PM UTC
Blessed are the papers
that the poet writes on
for they will be filled
with mind and soul
Pieces of letters
Infinitely watering
the growing lilacs and daisies
planted in broken soils
Of moralities and immoralities
The curious wind hovers
Of fantasies and realities
It lands to the flowers
complex worlds
In the Paper, there it blooms
Unheard words
In the Paper, it unfolds
Covering scars or --
Opening wounds
through tattooed verses
of stories untold
Eyes and ears
in desperate propositions
Weapons and swords
in silent revolutions
A wondrous space.
Perhaps, it's an art exhibition.
of black inks in white textures,
the cheapest I've known.
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