Month: September 2020

Categories
Poetry

Wake me up when September ends

          In the middle of September
            The sky a clear blue
              As if calling
       Rejoice!    Summer is due
Without further cue
    I follow my feet
        Weaving through the cars,
            Spinning through the park.
              People pass by me as I remark
    With my stars and idols out of reach
      At least that guy, this girl - I’d like to meet
          As silently we greet
        For headphones, you can’t beat.
      Disappointed, my feet turn
    No longer noticing the suns’ burn
  Until warmly greets my screen
On the couch where I’ve always been.

Categories
Poetry

Bite the hand that feeds

A young girl
And a man
Worried,
For heartily
They disagreed.
He worked today
As he thought of tomorrow
But she was young
So she was free
To foresee
That when tomorrow pass
And tomorrow rebirth
His heart shall berst
At the plastic
Where was sea
Desert 
Where was tree.
For even a bee
On a flyby spree
Heading for a lotus
Can’t help but notice
That he too in the eves
Enjoys the seas and reeds
Where the breeze never cease
Yet
Oil from the soil bleeds
To feed the outcome of his labour
As from his hammering, trimming, screwing, chimming
Matt grey machinery proceeds.
And the master for his subsistence,
Gives the money that feeds,
The school bills pays indeed,
The electricity and internet keeps running,
So young and free
She can already see
The disaster well in making.

The thematic this poem attacks is the generational divide that arises around climate change and climate policy, often leading to implicit distancing or explicit fights within families. I just wanted to show both sides – even though I know which one I stand on.

Categories
Poetry

Blue

Blue

Nothing but blue, 
          every blue.
Straight down, impenetrable, dark deep blue,
hiding mysteries unknown.
Straight ahead, facettes of light blue,
Everchanging with apparent joy.
Blue, blue over blue
         Nothing but blue,
                    Every blue.
Under the rain, greyish blue,
constantly hammered by the powers above.
Under the sun, millions of golden reflections,
dancing with the blue in a beauty untold.
SUDDENLY
White foam on belligerent waves -
Ending the peace of interminable blue,
Created by the storm that ended my dreams.

This was my first poem ever. Objectively speaking, it’s not the best. Subjectively speaking, it means the world to me. I spent 7 months on a sailing boat, crossing the Atlantic twice. My brain forced me to write it down after etching every word into my brain at 5 am, reminiscing on those times, both visually and emotionally. If you get to know me very well, I’ll tell you more of the meaning veiled by the chaotic words.