What will I leave after my last journey but words ?
Little apple ,you who were so plump ,
have I left on your pulp ,only a bitter juicy bite ?
I caught the next cloud, leaving you
this wet parting world ...
And you serious Sybil ,that I have worshipped
and honored like a vestal ?
I also left some alphabets on the melancholy
that your fingers let run on the piano of our lives...
What will I leave behind, after this long voyage
of such a short passage ?
The memory of my poems will fade ,
and the voice of a young soul
just hatched from a spring morning ...
I don't believe in these oaths
that are confused with eternity...
Elisa,you who prefered Gershwin to Mozart,
I was sending you letters from an american to Paris,
glinding over the orchestra of a lost transatlantic...
I desired you all in the form of declinsions
dancing in my hands ...
All those words were just poisonous flowers
dipped in a feather of arsenic ...
But they've made you so happy...
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 7th, 2024 05:39
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Bella Shepard
Offline)
Comments3
Beautiful poem, my friend!
Thank you for your appreciation !
Beautiful 🌹
Thanks ..At last a spring day in this boring country !
You capture the beauty and majesty of words in this amazing poem, as they dance through our heads, touching each sense that we possess. Brilliant!!
Hmm ... Dear Bella : Nothing but words!
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