Posts Tagged With: poet

Daily inspiration

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I believe the greatest depth of ones emotions most authentically can be manifested in verses. I believe poets are from this world, but I also believe their destiny is to be stacked here while they communicate with parallel world just to assure their survival. I believe all this since me myself is often struggling like that. But, I also believe that no spirit is more strong and fragile at the same time as the one of the poet and no heart is more capable of love. They are aware of the world they live in, but I still see more and more brave poets. I say brave, since it requires courage to involve yourself into something that nowadays does not bring you bread on your table.

We have ups and downs, we struggle, we are not depressed, we struggle in the darkness of our own thoughts, we seem to have wrongly understood love, when we are supposed to be sure that only our way of loving is the true one, all else is duty of our species to reproduce and maintain its life on Earth.

We are keepers of the human values, we celebrate honesty and emotion, that is our food for the soul. We might have weak bodies, but we have strong hearts, we love people, but for real.

And the greatest fight is when we are required to put a mask and pretend we are just as anyone else outside. Poetry is not to be understood, nor poets are. But, since the history of the human kind has shown weapons do not bring peace, it might be the time of the poets to give their best chance.

You might see me crawling on the ground

I hear you laugh,  even more you push me down

but you don’t look what I did, nor where I find

you don’t get, it does not glow like your crown.

You might see me crawling down on the floor

I hear you laugh, you think I lost the war

but you don’t get, I have no palace with a golden door

my treasure rests deep inside, it’s my spirit, it’s my core.

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Nothing but a zahir

zahir

‘I’ dopps the ego out,

only the quotation marks are left

and an empty space in between.

‘You’ loses its meaning

and you still manifest your unseen presence.

My ‘I’ touches you

my ‘I’ smells you

my ‘I’ feels your heat

my ‘I’ smiles at your ‘you’.

You are here and your body isn’t a defined figure yet.

Your breath is part of my breathing.

I am a breathing only

I am my senses only

I am not a firm body.

A zahir cannot be rhymed in poetry

A zahir cannot even be explained

A zahir can only take you to the edge

and make you question about the meaning of your existence.

So many verses:

mine,

yours,

and yet a zahir only.

No, my existence doesn’t make sense,

nor my madness is safe anymore.

Cowards, my beloved one,

never make their own nest!

 

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Forward is the only way

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A nuance of joy had the day gone by

and so she suffocated her daily cries.

But a joy in a day can be a mask only

it became her daily verb the word ‘lonely’.

 

A poet struggles while those keen on prose

to the dept of emotions are not even close.

Her search never ends it becomes only art

since she doesn’t have of the word ‘we’ all parts.

 

She keeps fighting watching her back

she becomes stronger, for help she doesn’t lack.

A warrior lives as other have only imagined

a warrior lives to become a legend.

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The Raven’s comeback

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The year was passing by

and she still stares outside the window each night

when each day ends she would ask herself:

“For what would I the next morning fight?”

 

And as she stood this evening on the street

with all her lust gone away

she looked the sky, the stars, the street lights

she searched in her heart will to pray.

 

She came home along the road alone

and searched in her room for some stroke of faith,

as she found nothing she looked outside the window scared

it was the Raven only, but for her Hope he held the keys of the gate.

 

The Raven only stared into her glowing

although hopeless, the Raven knew on the inside she is burning,

she wiped her tears and said: “I shouldn’t throw you away,

a man, I should have known, has his whole life for learning.”

 

The Raven stood on her shoulder

as in the darkness she started writing,

it seemed the bird was her only friend

while she was writing reasons for her next fighting.

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To non-artists

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