Vesna Kovrlija Poet Narrative

Reinaldo Arenas

His first poems
Were carved with a knife
On the tree trunks in the countryside
He wrote in prison
He wrote high up in the trees
In Havana`s parks where
He hid from the Cuban police
In his new island-jail
In his shabby apartment
Illuminated by Manhattan lights
Very tired, very ill
In a sea of paper
He wanted to die by the sea
And when the night fell
The death crawled
Together with pills and alcohol
His sadness as deep as the sea
Was burnt and ashes scattered at the sea

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Barbara Gorelick September 2, 2012 at 9:57 AM Most of us have a limited time to spend on the soup..youd be better served to just post one or two poems at a time. I would love to read all your work but thats not going to happen. Please stick around and posta few at a time so we can enjoy. I do like this one. BG