A Poetic Pen

Write me a poetic pen,
One that ties in with a branch,
Ink letters on my shoulders,
Let it bloom into a rosy moment,
Extinguish a candle for the smoke,
And pin down the running pen,
But not until all has been said,
Not until the whispers dry out,
Make a weapon there and then,
For the tongue has be struck,
Blue, green, black, and red,
Thoughts shooting out like stars,
Each to highlight a corner,
Merging for a delightful portrait,
About this little poetic pen.

Friday, 07th of August, 2015

Moments with Nature

Fly into me frisky birds,
Tell a story about the sea,
Alarm everyone about today,
Spare me a wing or two,
A flight of many moments,
And fly into me ivy leaves,
Fragrant my air with your colours,
Write on my dense skin,
Or through them light a dream,
A treasure of many moments,
And fly into me ancient branches,
Send earth few whispers,
Cover me a shade for my mind,
Let rituals ascend into heavens,
Or descend for many moments,
And fly into me pouring rain,
Get rid of the lungless smoke,
Teach us a divine ceremony,
And cleanse our youthful souls,
A blessed era of many moments,
And fly into me shooting stars,
Mesmerise my eyes with a painting,
Or just light a night such as this,
Fill it with many distant smiles,
And elevate it into a single moment.

Friday, 07thof August 2015

A Polar Bear’s First Love

Spiders creeping on my white fur?
No, but a superficial tickly sensation,
Her arms and her thighs I prefer,
Something is racing, is that emotion?
I walk slowly and then I start to run,
I growl passionately for no reason,
I have to say something, maybe a pun,
Is this what they call a mating season?
The lightbulb sparks over my head,
And as a scientist I develop a hypothesis,
Love is but a series of emotions on thread,
And another male is definitely my nemesis.

Thursday, 30thof July 2015