I was born a runner of life
conqueror of the eight .
But I speak the wovels
of the night star
and other decent consonnants...
I also know cloud dreams ,
because do you know ?
Clouds send messages
that people in a hurry don't read
and the moon that wakes up at night
only talks to cats playing on rooftops ...
I was born a warrior strategy sand castles
whose populations are converted
to the cult of the tide
that will swep them away ....
I am the prophet of every day life
the astrologer of the moment ,
knocking at your door ...
I can read the scent of roses
and get drunk on the alcohol of words...
Because do you know ?
Only children who refuse to grow up ,
perceive the symphony of flowers
and are visited by Peter Pan !
Little Wendy became a lady
who no longer believes in Mary Poppins ...
Poor Teddy forgotten at the back of a cupboard .
I was born a dealer of seasons ,
and so many illusions ...
A bit of an actor and so sincere liar ,
performing the role of my shadow
I am so beautiful in this shabby mirror !
I was born a musician of tomorrow
silkrope walker of inspired dimensions
deliciously linked to the Devil...
Don't be afraid guys
the devil is a good boy !
In the plot of my life the path begins
at the last hours of comedy .
But don't believe me !
I am just a fool ...
,
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 8th, 2025 14:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell, Sealgair
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Comments3
It is the fool that speaks wisdom in the king's court. The only one listened to because he can speak his will being only a fool. Great write
Just humble jester your servant !
The poem is like a confession wrapped in poetry. The images are rich, bizarre, sometimes true. There’s something of the traveler, the storyteller, the old soul who refuses to settle into the mold of time.
Amazing work!
I am such a young awkward soul my dear !
A poet-philosopher, a magician of words, spinning dreams into riddles and truth into illusion. The devil tips his hat, the wind hums in approval, and forgotten toys whisper their envy.
Bravo!
Dear friend you encourage me to continue on this poetic path !
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