Release my soul,
While murder most foul;
My blood has spilled
on the wall, dark and dull:
“Yet each man kills the thing he loves”
My death is nothing but
But the motif of i am beloved.
Release my mind
and keep me blind,
Leave me alone in the paradise
dark and dull.
Written on 13 January 2015
on linkedin group “Poetry and Literature”: A Poetry game
Love is a glue,
Gluing two together;
When it melts,
Love cannot be felt.
We are individuals after all,
Who can be sure
The star of love will never fall?
I am not you,
And you are not me,
Only when you believe,
There is a “we”.
Love is a ship.
When the storm comes,
It just could not escape:
Eaten by the tides,
Washed by the waves,
Or end up, perhaps, in the stomachs of the whales.
Pale is the lip,
Love falls asleep,
The sailors leap.
I told you how I feel,
But if you do care,
You will try to feel
and heal;
You said you cannot understand,
Yet,
If you wish to understand,
You will;
But if you —
You will never know.
Written on 27 September 2013.
Love brings colours to the world, feelings to the Earth.
Grey is the background colour of my lovely little world.
I know I am a masochist, falling in love with my wounds.
For a poet is someone who feels the world with all his heart,
portrays the world he feels in his every great piece of work,
every choice of words.
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Portrait of Em. 