10 maja 2018
The Birth Pangs
It is now.
The call of unknown.
A doting mother─
writes a child.
I am, collecting─
the words. To speak for the
death, which was hestitant
to come,
against the will of grass.
The grassroots diplomacy,
catches the wind.
Abandons the footpath,
goes to the marbled floor.
What do I do─
at dusk? Become wordless
like a deep sea─
waiting for the moon
to bring the tides?
5 marca 2025
sam53
5 marca 2025
wiesiek
5 marca 2025
Marek Jastrząb
5 marca 2025
ajw
5 marca 2025
ajw
5 marca 2025
ajw
5 marca 2025
absynt
5 marca 2025
absynt
5 marca 2025
absynt
5 marca 2025
wolnyduch