30 grudnia 2014
A VERY HURT POEM
Last night
moon was following me
discreetly,
skirting behind the trees.
A white splendor
drips,
like a dropped coin
on poor’s hand.
Did you see the blood
on roses?
The petals were wounded
in rain.
Casual violence
spreads in the streets.
I write a very hurt
poem.
29 listopada 2025
violetta
29 listopada 2025
wiesiek
29 listopada 2025
dobrosław77
29 listopada 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
28 listopada 2025
wiesiek
28 listopada 2025
sam53
28 listopada 2025
sam53
28 listopada 2025
sam53
28 listopada 2025
sam53
28 listopada 2025
Arsis