25 lipca 2020
What Next
Between the swaying palms,
moon was moving
in armada.
Why did you come
late, to whisper, of the
explosive explicit?
But for a lone
cry, I would not
take you.
The jewels were mine.
You had stolen
from my waistband.
It substracts the
stings from my
hobbling gait.
25 listopada 2024
2511wiesiek
25 listopada 2024
Bajkaabsynt
25 listopada 2024
0019absynt
25 listopada 2024
Pod skrzydłamiJaga
25 listopada 2024
Widzenie wielu poetówdoremi
25 listopada 2024
refleksjasam53
25 listopada 2024
AniołyBelamonte/Senograsta
25 listopada 2024
Wróciłem do domu, MamoArsis
24 listopada 2024
Nie ma lekko...Marek Gajowniczek
24 listopada 2024
0018absynt