The words appear to mean a lot more than they say


536466_10151260864622755_489900236_nIt came from the sky
penetrating the wind
and immediately
she took my beliefs, my creeds;
It buried my shame
in plastic dreams
changing the way i see
changing the way i think!

It lift the veil
that was blinding me
that black, soft cloth
that bittersweet feel;
Taking me up
bringing me down
like a ricochet,
between sky and ground!

It rose my temperature,
burning my brain, my eyes
and if i tried to touch her
she even burnt my arms;
All this unheard torture
this suffocating lust
just by a look, a glimpse
on those beautiful lines!

Those lines 
that made me die
while keeping me alive
those small doses of oxygen
that sweet paradise;
That dance, those moves
that unreached sight
oh, how sweet, pure elegance!

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An impressive piece, quite impressive


This is how you will go. Without applause. With a bump here and there. In relaxed turbulence. By finding meaning in a small thing which you weren’t aware of when it happened, and which you will forget a second later. This is how you will go. Addled, and all at once, but like a double-door,

and without a door-handle of doubt that it’s happening in-side too. And there. And this. This is how you will have to go to get through it. Head first without thinking so much. Flutter-kicking. Bellyaching. With things that make strong eggs, and endless. And heart. And it will be exactly the same as the last time

it worked, except with more memory and less remembering, and probably not in public. It won’t work exactly like a rope twisting an endless topology of impossible knots so easy. It could easily smell like a skunk, like life-like…

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I am Captivated….. Beautiful



Does the road wind uphill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow, dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you waiting at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.

Christina Georgina Rossetti. 1830–1894


I have put this poem, which I love very much, up today at the nudging of my mentor on all things poetical…

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poems of my life

“ My Lfe is Ending “

My ife is ending

I found out today.

How much time do I have?

The doctors can’t say.

I think they know,

but they hold it back.

It really don’t matter,

time is on track.

I didn’t mean

to get this old.

Have fun, live it up, enjoy,

I was told.

But, now comes comeuppance,

And the piper is near.

I stand to lose all,

that I once held so dear.

It’s OK, I say.

We all have to die.

And it’s a comfort to know

the wherefore and why.

Bad habits and such,

have come to the fore.

It won’t be long,

Til I’m here no more.

So, as I face, the final forgiveness,

I reminisce my time on Earth.

And it seems to me,

I could have done better

But, I could have done worse.

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