In the poem, Emily talks about hope, something that’s got feathers and perches in the soul, and sings wordless songs like a beautiful bird.
Its sound can be heard in the chilliest land and in the strangest sea but never loud and clear. It takes a part of the soul of the person having it.
I often think about the sky and how it’s admired by many. Some for the cloud patterns others for the star constellations. How a person can be so intently infatuated with something that’s constantly changing,…
Loneliness can be a terrifyingly peaceful luxury, Once you get used to it, You wouldn’t bother to disrupt it with anyone’s presence. . . Save
This poem talks about a bizarre conversation between two individuals facing a serious threat to their lives, but still too engrossed in their comfort zones, unwilling to help each other. Had they helped each other they might as well, would have survived.
A word is a extremely powerful thing Thrown cruelly, it will fu***** sting But compassionately it can create Listen, And let this wisdom propagate
A word is a extremely powerful thingThrown cruelly, it will fu***** stingBut compassionately it can createListen, And let this wisdom propagate The words of the cruel-hearted cut deepAnd can leave people stand without a peepLike…
A tündér orcája by J. W. Cassandra. This is one of my tales from volume “The Tales of Goblin of Tales”. It was put together in 2017. The volume contains a fabled preface and 25 tales at all. All the tales are connected by the figure of the Goblin of Tales, a kind little fabulous creature. It wanders from place to place with a haversack on its back and carries the tales to people on earth.
The Fairy’s Cheek by J. W. Cassandra. This is one of my tales from volume “The Tales of Goblin of Tales”. It was put together in 2017. The volume contains a fabled preface and 25 tales at all. All the tales are connected by the figure of the Goblin of Tales, a kind little fabulous creature. It wanders from place to place with a haversack on its back and carries the tales to people on earth.
Who Sees Seeing, by J. W. Cassandra, my own poem. The poem belongs to my volume VII, In the Mirror of Forms, cycle Existence of Essential. Original version was written in Hungarian, in 2012 yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. The poem makes a particular sense of the Sage and the Fool and that of the cradle and coffin.
Who Sees Seeing, by J. W. Cassandra, my own poem. The poem belongs to my volume VII, In the Mirror of Forms, cycle Existence of Essential. Original version was written in Hungarian, in 2012 yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. The poem makes a particular sense of the Sage and the Fool and that of the cradle and coffin.
My love for her was like A merry go round Round and round it goes Where it stop nobody knows. Oh yeah, Words alone couldn’t explain, The feeling she gave me It took me to places never been before. Everything was so well Until doubt took over our love Does she love me? Does she love me not? I realised loving can hurt One can love someone to an extent Letting that person go becomes hard And this is what makes us humans.
Somebody Is Knocking, by J. W. Cassandra, my own poem. The poem belongs to my volume XVI, Source-light, cycle Emptiness-palace. Essential version was written in Hungarian, in 2017 yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. The poem gets a singular actuality from the fact that today is my birthday: a kind of account.
Somebody Is Knocking, by J. W. Cassandra, my own poem. The poem belongs to my volume XVI, Source-light, cycle Emptiness-palace. Essential version was written in Hungarian, in 2017 yet. I share it both in English and Hungarian. The poem gets a singular actuality from the fact that today is my birthday: a kind of account.
