4 października 2015
Crossing The Sea
Till the end story
hope was not visible
to others.
Lie neutral truth
and road side innocence
died under the sun.
End in view was shifting
from error to error.
Statements squeezed between departures.
Steaming cup of patience
dazzled the penniless.
I was sick of hypocrisy.
At the end of my forest
dawn of my child
was peeling a rainbow.
Pedlars of worn out boats
were standing at the shores.
Two little feet were crossing the sea.
24 marca 2026
smokjerzy
23 marca 2026
wiesiek
23 marca 2026
sam53
23 marca 2026
Jaga
22 marca 2026
Witold
22 marca 2026
wiesiek
22 marca 2026
guccilittlepiggy
21 marca 2026
sam53
21 marca 2026
violetta
21 marca 2026
dobrosław77