René Magritte – Not to be reproduced
i miss my place
my country
my face.
i want to tight us
with silk lace.
*
across the sea
i found my peace.
Ode to Aotearoa
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Tag Archives: Me
Dim light path – Sometimes we see, sometimes we don’t.
the talent she never knew
hidden deep inside
came through a deep black road
to awake everyone read to listen.
and together they go
- embraced –
in this infinite trail
where hope never ends.
*
little sparkles shines,
coming through her skin,
trying to illuminate everything.
- – -
Today is a special day. No artwork – just my poetry. Today this blog completes one year. One hundred and seventy three posts later, three hundred and ninety four comments later and more than eleven thousand views. A lot of poets and thinkers I met – and I hope to meet even more. Amazing people who understands me, who cherish my work, who give me support even though we don’t know each other in person. And to think I started all of this to heal myself… I’m certainly not there yet but every time I write in here I’m getting far and far of losing myself completely. Thank you, everybody! And let’s walk this path always together!
Overs revisited – Part II
Paul Gauguin – Night Cafe in Arles (Madame Ginoux)
let’s not waste our time:
failed relationships
will never bear fruit.
we’re over.
so over.
let’s not fool ourselves:
we never shared a bed
for more than two nights.
why would we share separate lives?
we’re over
from the start.
we’re a habit
just like caffeine.
we’re hard to kill
but one day
we’ll succeed.
Overs revisited – Part I
Vincent van Gogh – Bedroom in Arles
We might as well be apart
it hardly matters, we sleep separately.- Paul Simon in Overs
dead end again,
nothing else to do.
we seek for answers
that’s already here:
we are over,
so over.
*
why don’t we leave?
why don’t we go on?
if we are over, really over,
leave me, please, alone.
The week – Part III: Customers
Pierre-Auguste Renoir – Luncheon of the Boating Party
proud of the cooks’ results
– beautiful things worth a lot –
they spend countless money
to buy tiny food.
the cost is too high!
for them and for me.
The week – Part II: Staff
Johannes Vermeer – The milk maid
nobody looks into my eyes
i’m as invisible as air.
the invisible girl
i dare call myself.
no super powers,
a workhorse instead.
*
i see no passion
just mechanic movements.
i saw a glimpse of care
that vanished in thin air.
The week – Part I: Bistro
Edward Hopper – Nighthawks
a place where
smiles are punished.
(can you even imagine
a place like that?)
robots making food
for robots to buy.
