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Footprints... - poetry my love

Footprints... - poetry my love

Poetry is the punch in the keys and
must be felt by the hearth and slashed by the brain

Is the leaf that falls from the tree
but never reaches the ground

Poetry means war in a smear drawn by peace and
part from that tiny piece of dust, lost in the desert of words

You don't need to break your hands to feel those words
and you don't need to scream to taste them

Poetry is part of the echoes of inner lost,
of founding new, though old, repeating ideas

Must come and fade away as the wind flows,
as the seconds transform themselves into gnomes...

Beyond, there's a kind of sweet perfect disorder -
is like the dance that you'd never want to stop

Poetry is the drug that makes us dependent and
which flows through the veins ... filled with smoke!

About This Poem

About the Author

Region, Country: Romania, ROU

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Comments

L

Lenny of Cohen

18 years ago

Cracking

use of imagery had mereaching for my helmet. Great write! Lenny Gazbowski
Marius Surleac

Marius Surleac

18 years ago

Thank you Lenny!

I am glad that you liked it! This is one of the many ways I see poetry! Thank you again for your kind comment! Marius Surleac!
weirdelf

weirdelf

17 years 9 months ago

self-reflexive poetry is really hard to pull off

up the with "love" and "life" but you have succeeded brilliantly. Just a couple of tiny suggestions- Poetry means war in a smear draw by peace and drawn Poetry is part from the echoes of inner lost, Poetry is apart from the echoes of inner loss, or Poetry is part of the echoes of inner loss, or Poetry is part of the echoes of inner lost, see the tiny but significant differences here? cheers, Jess