I'm waiting .
Maybe love .
Or simply death.
That a door opens .
A departure .
A future ?
The return of the comet
and a few other illusions ...
I'm waiting .
Same as a religion .
Similar to an offering .
The one that won't come .
Those who will never return
and to whom I continue
to write ...
A drama passes on the battle song
of passion ...
Leaving the sharpness of a scent
that clings to the hours
when one is alone...
A call that reflects only the faint
echolalia of yesterday ...
I can't remember the lyrics
to that old song anymore ...
It's raining on the grimacing
carnival faces .
the law requieres them
to wear a suitable mask !
On the ''Grand place '' pass
silent penitents and defrocked
somewhat ashamed ...
A woman with a blossoming curve
awaits me in these bustling years .
Chronicle of a past that had not
yet left on me the yesteryear's seal ...
Have I lived so little that I must already
leave again ?
Do we know why we go round
in this fatal geometry ?
Please accept these Belgian chocolates.
I dislike flowers whose hurts
are sanctified in cruel rituals...
and also those few laughable
and derisory words that dares
not say : '' Do you love me ? ''
Me neither my dear ...
I don't really know what I'm expecting.
But I have a feeling that it's so important...
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 30th, 2026 11:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
Offline)
Comments2
There is a pause in the circus atmosphere where nothing seems certain only that something is coming. A wonderful surrealistic poem.
Sometime I need to take a break in an introspective loop of time...
Poetry of mature waiting, without illusions and without renouncing feelings.
Feeling not sentimentalism !
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