8 march 2020
In Search Of Tremors
Night comes like a
black dog
around the corner.
I start paying off the debt
cry for cry, with a
ceremonial sword,
cutting off the shadows
falling from the
distant hills.
My questions are burning―
on pyre. How did I fail myself?
Why some mercy
was unacceptable to me?
Standing in midstream
I let go your hand,
and drown in quick sand of thoughts.
Now a poem will
lift me from the ruins.
24 february 2025
wiesiek
24 february 2025
absynt
24 february 2025
ajw
24 february 2025
ajw
23 february 2025
Jaga
23 february 2025
absynt
23 february 2025
ajw
23 february 2025
Jaga
22 february 2025
Marek Gajowniczek
22 february 2025
Eva T.