A covid-19 inspired poem to give humanity hope.
“My soul fills your glass like a Sunday brunch luxury”
Recollecting My Lastingness, As Another Year Wind Up. Below The Dawn Sky, I Ask The Almighty.. Is This The Silence, Before The Storms! Or Is It Just Another, Beautiful Morning.
This song is a very famous song from the play Cymbeline. It simply means that you need not really fear death. Death is inevitable. Each one of us, be it royalty or the common class, everyone eventually will “come to dust”. All that we do and all that we become will lose its existence one day. And we need not fear it.
A snake enters my mind, slides through my veins, and sits in my heart. Red is diffused with green, poison flows through my artries. I can’t find my body’s server, he is my weaver, he…
The muddlehead is a poem about a man who remains mentally confused, a little bit insane. He has a problem making sane decisions. He wears his clothes the wrong way, speaks the weird language, creates new words, is asking for wrong favors at wrong places. He is the man who makes everyone laugh. His story is everyone’s favorite.
She waits… For them, but she waits for a year to pass just to get closer to another year She waits… To see the day just of being able to hear their voice She waits……
Staring into the Nothing,Confused about it all, Walking like a Zombie Climbing up the walls Invincible Invisible Just a downfall No one to listen Nothing to say No, where to go Always aloneFrustrated Crazed inside the domeWaiting for a…
And, yes I too write… I write just to contribute some raw emotions in this world full of fancy filters.
Can you imagine my world without youI can’t forget what I’ve been throughDreams keep on haunting me While I search for the life I once knew with youCan I awake from all the pain and…
Chèvre Miel Quand je pense à notre rencontre, à toi,Une sensation, tout à coup, le manque apparait.Un besoin vital tel un sdf sans toit,Que tu me manques, la tristesse loin de toi. Que puis je…
Who Walks Along the Trees, by J. W. Cassandra. I haven’t put this poem into any of my volumes yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. Trees are the marvel, the charm, the wonder in our lives, they are the sentinels of our lives – and the lungs of the planet… They give us, humans a shelter and a base for living: oxygene, firewood, house, fence, furniture, stick – cradle and coffin… And they give us the marvel of life. They sustain and accompany our lives. Let’s guard them together!
Who Walks Along the Trees, by J. W. Cassandra. I haven’t put this poem into any of my volumes yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. Trees are the marvel, the charm, the wonder in our lives, they are the sentinels of our lives – and the lungs of the planet… They give us, humans a shelter and a base for living: oxygene, firewood, house, fence, furniture, stick – cradle and coffin… And they give us the marvel of life. They sustain and accompany our lives. Let’s guard them together!
The Trees Reach up to the Skies Twice, Part 2, by J. W. Cassandra. I haven’t put this poem into any of my volumes yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. I illustrated my poem with the photo of the hill nearby our home, with a windmill – and without the trees that had stood there as sentinels about for 75 years. All the poplars are cut down – and there’re no saplings, just the bald hill, that had been surrounded by a fence… Horror! Even irresponsibility! Trees are the lungs of the planet… And they give us, humans a shelter and everything: firewood, house, fence, furniture, torch, oxygene… – cradle and coffin… And they give us the marvel of life. They accompany our lives – and we humans see them reaching up to the skies when we are little children and are open for marvels, yet – and at very the end of our particular life… Let’s guard them together!
