Words Are Hollow
Promises… they often are just words, which sound hollow and meaningless. Friends promise to stay despite everything, yet they leave the way summer leaves every year.
Summer Kiss
We tend to express our feelings about summer once we’ve lost its burning presence. In autumn we mourn for its light and floridness because we see everything die. In winter, when death takes over, we have almost no summer memory left but that of a long and burning kiss.
Hope is Not a Gift
This poem explores the possibility that Hope is not granted or given by a transcendent power. What is hope other than a promise that all troubles and misfortune will go away so that light and happiness can replace them? And all promises are made by us and no one else.
So Warm, My Home
The idea of home seems compelling even to the toughest of us: with its promise that something out there awaits you, that someone will be welcoming you. That there is a purpose travelling the roads.
Love Potion
This short poem reflects the capture of a single moment when the sun is shining and caressing both body and soul. It makes us feel loved, blessed, kissed, immortal… are we not? And the only thing we can do is to drink this potion every day.
Shed a Tear
It is not shameful to admit to crying, especially if one is aware of the pains and sufferings of the human heart. And as much as they might indicate a deep sorrow, tears can also give us relief and make us feel stronger.
Come Drink With Me
Fridays come and go, but it’s never too late for a beer or two, or maybe a glass of wine. It gives is wings and strength to forget, to move on to pastures new, to dream about tomorrow.
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