City walls stick like a prison of liquorice
It rains on the summers
erasing words from a farewell letter
without adress and recipient ...
The city's windows are only closed eyes
on faces forgotten by life ,
a mad man haunts the empty streets...
Is this a poet or a serial killer ?
The city is a bored old maid ,
she loves sparrow with no memory
and wanderers chilling on the banks ...
A wise dog pees on graffiti...
I'm the city traveler
quiet cat ,
everyday explorer of clouds
lost in rooftops ...
I fall asleep ,trapped in a shoebox,
lulled by the distant flight of a steel bird
linking Buenos-aires to Brussels ...
I have so much tenderness of this city
that I hate...
And that one day I'll leave
like a lover without pleasure
whose lean arms comfort me...
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 17th, 2024 15:21
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Ellen Marsell
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Comments4
Great descriptors of a city marked in metaphor and painted in symbols. Beautiful!
Thank you Sorren !
The urge to leave that place, yet realize that it has become a part of you. I love it!
Would be happier with the scent of the trade winds ?
love your description about the city..good write
Thank you Nafisa .Appreciated .
welcome
have a beautiful day
You had me with "a prison of liquorice". This is serious pondering expressed very well. Nice.
A delightful feast for the senses ...
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