Passion
I climb an itchy mountain,
robust climbing.
Grabbing the roots,
not to fall, limb by limb.
I take nothing but feelings,
I leave nothing but silence,
I kill nothing but memories.
I am a poet on the loose,
wandering where the dream rests,
bowing down to the rainbow.
Where the beauty lies after I pass through the rain.
I somehow find hope when a rainbow comes forth.
The kiss of the wave makes me awake,
while I am in the middle of my sleep,
between the sea strand of our nostalgic memories.
Hence, I found myself,
calling your name again.
YOU ARE READING
Under The Casket Of Hatred And Oppression
PoesiaThese short poems ideas flow from my emotional self. They arrive the same way as dreams do. So always I begin with a head empty of words and let my feelings go flow. Read at your own Discretion
