27 czerwca 2016
Wish Rags
Into the dark enters the blue;
a homeless song punctures the cloud:
gentle grass was never so green.
The colors start fading
there was no other movement. Sun strides in.
No going, no coming of pain. No propitiatory
prayer of mine or yours.
I seek the wisdom of a tree.
Like hawthorn collecting the wish rags
fluttering in desert flora.
A husband, a father, a patriarch
in heart of conception, malice for none.
Give we some peace of Ash,
rebirth of thinking,
return to being,
burnt out self.
15 marca 2026
wiesiek
15 marca 2026
sam53
15 marca 2026
absynt
15 marca 2026
absynt
14 marca 2026
wiesiek
14 marca 2026
Jaga
14 marca 2026
violetta
14 marca 2026
dobrosław77
13 marca 2026
wiesiek
13 marca 2026
sam53