Well of Words

Word. Another. Joined between a feeling, a memory, a sense. Let it flow from within to sentences. Simple, sensible and truly something original. Written emotions on paper: a poem.

A Poem

Flashing by moment
a sense, feeling
that never comes
another
not to anyone
not to me
ever again

I grab to that glimpse
squeezing the sense
through feelings
eyes closed
forgotten in me
I hold back

and I let go
to paper

The Poet In Me

Nice to see you here!

This is where my feelings and thoughts many times end up. More than twenty years ago I scribbled my first poems as 14 year old boy that was dreaming about being published author and poet.

Well, as usual, the poems never were sent to publisher and learning process was considered too hard - might have been different if there would have been internet then.

So I wrote occasionally less and less until last year when I decided to start writing for real since I had extra time. Started a blog and build some confidence. Finding All Poetry poetry society really made difference; more fellow poets and for the first time critique. And chance to read lots of good poetry

Now I am serious on writing and aim to improve to the lengths to make it for real. I am going to be published since I have a poet inside me and I intend to unleash it

maanantai 23. tammikuuta 2017

Connection

No, I am not special
just another
face in the crowd but
I am the one
just waiving

you
on the other hand
after thorough glances
estimates and evaluations
are the one
waiving back
at me
a total stranger and
just another face in the crowd

and in the end the question why
would undermine who we truly are
as humans

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maanantai 16. tammikuuta 2017

The Falling For Live

My love,
your first confession
was a lie,
arguing you fell
in deep,
faster than possible, before
the lightning even struck,
because I saw you
from the depths,
falling,

I was already injured for life
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sunnuntai 15. tammikuuta 2017

Fragments Of Happiness

Bought or borrowed
perhaps resolved
achieved
set as a goal

happiness
in search deludes

life is not levels to climb
but fragments of time
we are blown
through

hold on to ones that
make you happy
before they are
gone
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