31 august 2020
Compressed Emotions
I had met the flower
after a longtime.
The rose.
And its fragrance
hauls me to childhood
after the big dying.
A tender, scented dream
will touch me,
to become a poet.
Lying on dewed grass
you think, a promiscuous
microbial libido begins.
The explosion will eject
free verses, waiting in silence-
to witness- the April fall.
27 january 2026
wiesiek
26 january 2026
wiesiek
25 january 2026
wiesiek
24 january 2026
wiesiek
23 january 2026
Jaga
20 january 2026
Jaga
20 january 2026
wiesiek
19 january 2026
Jaga
18 january 2026
Jaga
17 january 2026
wiesiek