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It's as melancholic as the story of fantine and her lark in Les miserable, as heart breaking as the agony bursting forth in acclamation of a great battle lost.
To
always "awakens in the winters".
More heart wrenching as to he who awakens not until at final bed of repose.
Always awakens in the winters.
she looks up at me with
eyes hidden, almost locked,
behind
thick bars of hair
that reaches all the way to
her small nose

Hair discolored like
dry straw,
second in paleness only
to her ghostly face

She doesn’t stare too much
because there
are other things to see
in the room

She moves
on. Not
knowing that I also stared
at her. Into her soul

I’ve spotted an unquenched
cry there

The easiest to
recognize is the cry of loss
and that’s what I saw there

paired with
the cry of want

She wants to get away
from here
Far, far away. She wants to go
and never stop. Wants
to travel into
forever

and I’d like to
take her
there

But alas,
I am stuck here onto
this wall

frozen in time

I'm a static
painting

And my cold
words
void of any vibration
will never reach her

I have to make my peace
with it. Yeah, some
people just don’t read
poetry. And even if
they do, what are the chances
they’d read mine?

Wow, what a fool I can be at times
But, well, at least
I have my dreams
and myself to laugh at

You don’t need much else
in eternity
INSTAGRAM:
https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/
The world was growing colder
because the weather
was akin
to people’s hearts,
he was told

in a dream

The people had denied him
the world
and he was left with the backstreet
dumpster
And he had to share the
backstreet dumpster with the dogs
Or rather the dogs had to share
it with him

Regardless,
they agreed

and at least this corner of
the world
was a little warmer
INSTAGRAM:
https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/
I manage to walk a few miles every 2 or 3 days
in a failing effort to loosen the muscles
and ease the soreness of bad knees and a dissolving spine
we no longer discuss when it will happen
but rather when did it happen
exactly what day did the line go straight and then turn downward
ever so slightly
there is some comfort in having friends with the same affliction

I am pulled back to the Ocean
drawn like an addict to the smell
every group of gulls
riding the shoreline
every hour slowed

I feel energy there
as the Sun lowers
as the children and fisherman return home
as the whispers of those gone before me
are carried by the ocean breeze
old age
 Nov 2021 Karijinbba
Traveler
Script
 Nov 2021 Karijinbba
Traveler
In a place where entropy collects
my memories of youth
are barely left.

In a deep shiver
I shutter to search
my issues of trust
and limited worth.

There in my program
in bold letters it says
“YOU CAN NOT ESCAPE”
the damages left…
But!
The curtain is closed
on the stages of yesteryears
as we rewrite our scrips
take the wheel and stir!
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