🕊 🙏🏻🕊️
At Antwerp's port, where ships dissolve
into the horizon's mist, cultures blend
like brushstrokes on a canvas. I stand
at the water's edge, feeling the heartbeat
of a city alive with ceaseless motion.
The cathedral's spire pierces the sky,
a beacon of faith, tenacity, and aspiration.
Its shadow reaches into my thoughts,
reminding me that dreams endure
like stone against time, building a bridge
between hope and reality.
In the bustle of diamonds and docks,
I see the shimmering facets of human effort—
each face a tale, each smile a mystery.
This city's pulse quickens my own,
a symphony of striving and stories
shaping its identity—and mine.
I recall visiting my cousin here,
an artist drawn to Antwerp's vibrant embrace.
We wandered through cobblestone streets,
sharing stories over Belgian brew and fritjes.
His eyes gleamed with the city's energy,
as if his brush could capture its eclectic charm,
every salient facet a revelatory expedition.
And then, a man by the docks catches my eye,
his face hauntingly familiar, though years older—
it’s my cousin, or someone who could have been.
But my cousin moved to Paris long ago.
I wave hesitantly; he doesn’t respond.
Was it truly him, or just another tale
woven into Antwerp’s enigmatic rhythm?
The city's heartbeat grows louder,
its stories murmur unanswered questions—
and I walk away, my mind restless,
wondering how much of the city I truly know,
and how much of myself remains a mystery.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 30th, 2025 00:02
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
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Comments11
Memories can bring both happiness and sadness to our lives arqios.
Andy
Indeed they can and do; thanks Andy🙏🏻🕊
1995. A special year for me. Never been to Antwerp, but I've drunk Belgian beer.
Enjoyed the trip down one of your memory lanes. I barely know myself, only the imposter "selves" clamoring for their spot in the limelight!
Oh those impostors can be quite entertaining indeed! Perhaps mine have meet yours at some stage. 🙏🏻🕊
For sure! Those imposters are universal. Not to hate on them. I think they are messengers….
Oh there appears to be a poem or so forming there!🙏🏻🕊
I was just thinking the same!
Go for it! Quite interesting to see how it pans out🙏🏻🕊️
Good write A.
Thanks O🙏🏻🕊
And so the uphill ascent continues for the battling….
Still a difficult climb…
The happy, sad and inquisitive travels down memory lane, haven't been to Belgium for years, I would it's a different animal now, this reminded me of my days of being a travelling football fan, those to had sad and happy memories , enjoyed the read
Like people cities also change with time, so true. Thanks kindly 🙏🏻🕊
A picture painted well that might be a metaphor for oneself as well. How well do we know ourselves and may we misconstrue parts of ourselves seldom seen or that of others for ourself? A very nicely crafted poem Cryptic
Yes! Glad you mentioned that Soren; thank you so much🙏🏻🕊️
Have no experience in Antwerp, but 1995 was a consequential year for me. I was a new and aspiring poet for one...still aspiring, not new anymore! 🤣 Had maybe picked up the craft about 3 years earlier. That year I had my first "published" poem in my high school literary magazine. It was also the year my depression, anxiety, and the effects of a TBI really kicked into full swing. This poem brought all of that and more back. It is amazing how the times change, but individual years can feel so locked in a specific place. I survived 1995 and did so defiantly! Not a single regret...though somethings I would (perhaps) do differently. Thank you for this poem, my friend. Always look forward to your offerings. 👏🌹
When we look back we realise these changes and what we have accomplished however little or big we feel that we did; kind of puts it into perspective 🙏🏻🕊thank you 🕊🙏🏻
It sure does! You are most welcome, my friend!
I was looking up TBI and remembered a scar I received (in the late 60s) on my scalp/skull between my left temple and the back of my head, hair just would grow there. I remember clearly being flung across the dining area under the concrete stairs and a ringing in my head from making impact on one of its corners. My memory has empty spots before and after that.
Superb work.
Thanks Thomas 🕊🙏🏻
A fine write. You really paint the picture. Nicely done.
Thanks Tom, you’re visits and comments are much appreciated 🙏🏻🕊
This is so very deliciously laden with more than initially meets the eye, until like many poems I used to try to collect, I want it. '95 was not particularly memorable for me but how eloquently you've rendered it herein. Delightfully full of exquisite imagery with a sweetly haunting poignancy oh! I love it. Thank you very much for sharing.
Thank you so much. Yes, 1995 wasn’t all for all that but it sure had its moments. 🙏🏻🕊
have been to Antwerp some years back, and can visualize all that you saw on your walk...enjoyed reading it
Thanks Safina. So glad the poem is relatable 🙏🏻🕊️
yes it was, and is..have a great weekend
You too🙏🏻🕊️
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