Am I to you,
what you are to me,
the lighthouse structure
for the lost at sea,
the well built fortress
of a city under siege,
the prayer book
of a rambling pilgrim,
the green branch
of
Sliding out of the den at night,
I venture into the dark,
Slowly down the steepy slopes I go
heading into the forest
When I get there, I pause...
Hidden behind the trees, I wait
Stirred by the
You worry over all those little things:
your undone hair,
the freckles on your back,
the pimple on your chin,
that spot on the carpet;
why the mailman forgot to drop your copy of People
Hatred’s menacing fist
replaced love’s gentle care,
Your affectionate gaze is
A defiant stare,
A warrior cry replaced the
Loving whisper,
In such ludicrous haste
Hate invaded
Love’s realm
I left the Security Zone at about 5: 30 p.m.
And headed the Risk Zone.
I was self-assured, well-armed and resolute;
A fine soldier I was.
I mingled with the people on the platform,
Boarded the
You are black,
I am white,
Then we take turns
And I am black,
You are white,
When put together
We are grey.
White as the lily,
Black as the grave,
A sad ceremony
Of tears and pain.
Black
Sit down and play for me
One of those minuets
That Bach would play
For Anna Magdalena.
Let me watch your little fingers
run on the keyboard,
like leaps of sea trout schools
breeding in
I stand behind generations of women,
Who silently bore the burdens of life with little or no complaints,
I stand behind those grandmothers, mothers and daughters
Giving birth, nursing their
Say, we don’t need to talk
Instead,
I shall cuddle in your arms
And take a good nap,
Expecting a kiss on the forehead
When I’m awake.
Say, we don’t need to talk
Instead
I shall silently
I loathe these post nuclear winter days
Of metal-gray sky and stone-dry land,
With piles of garbage scattered on the sidewalks
And cockroaches crawling on the outside walls.
The city sewerage
The Panic room II
The panic room was empty,
With nothing in it except for a book shelf.
The window overlooked a backyard lawn,
Where kids from the neighborhood played hopscotch.
There wasn’t
The Panic room
The panic room was empty,
With nothing in it except for a book shelf.
The window looked over a lawn in the backyard,
Where kids from the neighbourhood played hide-and-seek.
