Monday, 27 February 2017

Haiku 13

postal de madrid
em cima da mesa
lembrando a viagem

Friday, 24 February 2017

Poem 36

We saw
The polish nuns on the (their) way to Santiago
A memory of an old civil war
Sushi bar sretch limos
Rock art and a lighthouse
Seaguls and strong waves
Upon a wide sargassus sea
Sunflowers, cornfields
We saw
Cyclist running by
A line of green tilled houses
The long tube line
And a band playing at the other end
We saw
The rocket train on rusty tracks
Surrounded by weeds
And the football fans round the stadium
Dressed in scarves and jerseys
Honking and screaming,
Taking the mall

Poem 35

and forever it was going to be
the unsettledness of youth
at each four hours the silence is broken
look at it now, james whose to say
it will all end this way
deep brown eyes so wide
unearth change, rest the fuzzy phase
behind, exasperating was left
tiring whims from the past
at each four hours the silence is broken
like if amid chaos and confusion,
creativeness arised
12”  love  letters ascounded
dreams within a dream
one offers the answer to the other
is an exercise in patience
i know, i know, should be asleep

Poem 34

splendiferous effort
too long, too short
too small, too tall
it is dark inside
no hearing, no reason
clumsy senses,
it is dark inside
should had turned west,
east,you took, then left
of the right
like a ping-pong ball
bouncing back and forward
sometimes you hit the net

no hearing, no reason
clumsy senses
absent faith
dripping, dripping,
it is dark inside
those familiar faces
across the glass
you do not recognise them
trying to reach,
trying to touch, you fail
to see you

inside it is dark
your silent mind
so loud,
aching and breaking
invisible in your shell
in plain view you hide
no hearing, no reason
clumsy senses,
crab walk in the rain
dripping, dripping,

it is dark inside

Monday, 13 February 2017

Poem 33

Once upon a time
It was all too important
The clouds pass, the wind blows
Ten plus ten it tells zero
Reset the tape, replay the dream
Change the image of a memory
In turn, place the white lillies
Upon the old night table
A salty pie, not so good, is it?
Slowly, return those ancient grips
Let the sweet summery breeze
Bring front lost wonder
The path of orchids to the way of Santiago
Where does it lead, the time of gaze
Sunflowers, corn, carrots
Passing under the dark tunnel
Until clear sight of the playground
Rush, rush, rush, the train is late
Weed, flowers, water, three and a quarter
Once outside, drive fast
And go back to the warmness