Doors
Il vaut mieux- as there was nothing.
None knocks at the door, as I don’t knock more
A horse doer, escaping from the stable
I penetrate a place then dropping from the window
Humming – hawing,
Rushing,
Sighing,
-In a far bench
I count the stumbling words, trailing the weakened tongue
Il vaut mieux- as there will be everything.
I come looking for incision to run away
The scattered papers, I let go
Trying another iron or wooden door
I’m crazy about wall’s hole
Joyful,
Sorrowful,
Lustful,
Our relation is like railway lines
We meet underneath the pressure of changing the course.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
