joi, 20 iunie 2013



***
I'm stuck with my wings
under the sun
No wind seems strong enough 
to make me fly
No storm at the horizon.


***
And as you grow
You have to listen to the grown ups
Who claim to have got it right.

Listening becomes your best skill
Until the day there's no one to listen to,
On that day you can'y even sigh,
As your voice is gone into their grave.



***
I can hear a suitcase:
New thoughts are coming to town.


Guts

How dare you green against the stone? 

How dare you flower against the snow? 

How dare you walk against the flow? 

How dare you speak, 

how dare you know?




 ***
Those places miss my soles,
My soul misses those places.
  I’m wandering and wondering,
Emigration
Is a never-ending
Hesitation.



All Saints

Before you reach God,
all saints will have dealt with you.
Before you reach the saints 
Civil servants will have driven you
Out of your mind.
Before you get to them
The charity people would have measured 
Your virtue against theirs.
By the time you reach God
You will have been everyone else's feast.
God is alone
Yet he can make no mistake
At all.




Maggie
When shall I die, she wondered.
And instantly she knew
It had to be on a Monday morning.

Let everyone get bored
Over the weekend
And still have
Something to talk about
Over the Monday morning coffee.
Let them decide, let them change
Their mind
About what sort of funeral
Should there be
When it
Comes to me.
Give them time to hate me
Let them sing against me
Let them get me into the charts.
Let me stay there 
Till I'm on top
And then I can be buried.
That’s what I call democracy.



42
I passed a log leaning against a wall.
Swollen by time,
Drift apart from its vanished fence,
King of no kingdom.
42, it was written
On its shrivelled wood.
You can’t be only 42, I thought.
You are too serene and beautiful for that.





Of Poets

Occasionally,
I fall in love
With a poet
I look him up
In poet’s corners
Take him home
And read 'im
Inside out.
After a while,
I put him on a shelf.
And another poet comes about.
Poets don’t mind being put aside,
As long as they are left in good company.






Happy Birthday

For you’re a jolly good fellow
I wrapped your gift in yellow
But because I don't want you be sad
I wrapped it again. In red.
Because you’re so out of sight
I thought I should wrap it in white.
But because when I see you I wink
I wrapped it again; in pink.
Finally, I wrapped it in blue.
Because you’re too good to be true.
'Cause I'm still in luv with you.


It's All about A Tricycle in the End

Retirement is still my dream
That age when no one has any expectation from you
That time when you can do everything you like
And I will.
Including riding a tricycle in this town.





 If I gave it a title, it would be longer than the poem
Infinity protested:
Eight.



Burden
I walk ahead of me.
Behind, my shadow
Made of unfulfilled dreams
Limps.