small hill

Small Hill.

Perfect Blush

I´m a man but want to be a rose

not a tiny one for your lapel, but

a rose atop a thorny bush for all

to see my magnificence.

And I will let a harvest mouse

Make a bad amongst my soft petals

safe from cats, sleep in sunlight

wake up and fall asleep again.

Those who try to pick me will bleed

I´m not for a suitor to pick.

But I will when time is right

With a bit of foliage, lie upon your pillow

 

sun rays dance on my bed

Sun Rays dance on my Bed.

sunlight arrives early

A few friendly rays

Sit on my duvet warming it.

I pat the sunlight

Still half asleep

Trying to remember the night`s dreams,

It is difficult,

Before they slip under the radar

Of my alertness.

 I do not write anymore deep poetry

Only light things enter my mind

Water in the car

checking the oil using the dipstick

And air in tyres.

To think a week ago my heart stopped

But the ambulance people

Got it ticking again.

Spring and sunlight, yes this will be

A beautiful day.    

small hill

Small Hill.

In a landscape with many hills there is a flat part

that has a small hillock by the road.

Two olive trees and four flat boulders arranged like

furniture in a living room and a carpet of soft grass.

Is it an abandoned movie set where the moon is

a balloon? How many takes did the scene take?

In life there is no retake we are expected to get it right                

reading from a script not yet written

When building the road they put stones in a heap,

dust and bird droppings made it into a small knoll.

That´s the way it goes.

perfect blush

Perfect Blush

I´m a man but want to be a rose

not a tiny one for your lapel, but

a rose atop a thorny bush for all

to see my magnificence.

And I will let a harvest mouse

Make a bad amongst my soft petals

safe from cats, sleep in sunlight

wake up and fall asleep again.

Those who try to pick me will bleed

I´m not for a suitor to pick.

But I will when time is right

With a bit of foliage, lie upon your pillow

Syria

Syria

In the ugly streets of Homs I lied on my back snipers´ fire hit

 walls and filled my nose with cement dust and the horrid

smell of early death, the aftermath of abused young men

who have only murder and agony as a leading light to their

 short future that holds no promise of peace.  

Beside me a box shaped as a heart I knew it was a hand

grenade about to explode, soldiers came the grenade was

defused. They carried me in chair to the ocean- strand.

High tide came I was free to join the dolphins, I had tried

life ashore it was fun for some time, but I always longed to

join my tribe, where I need no speak and just be.

We swim between the Azores and the coast of Portugal and

I`m bored to tears, which happens those who have grown out

of their old culture, but nevertheless I falsely warn dolphins

not to leave the sea, be tempted by the dry land´s pearls made

of tears spilt by us who will never get home, kitschy neon light

and New Orleans´ jazz like it sounded in 1964.  

Inception

Inception

From under my shadow

And into sunlight

I´m a raven waiting

For a newborn child

Eat the embryonic soul and take over

The body.

And people will say:

This child has an old soul

The mother will cry hug the child

Love me

Till I can walk and disappear

Into the world