When Silent Love met with Boasting Vanity

A long time ago I got used to living with My open wounds, The last withered while I was staring at the sunset In the middle of the fog. Yes, you told me so many times About your suffering, How your heart shrunk Fisted in bleeding red While your eyes tasted The salt of the…

The Inner Voice of Delusion

You climb the ladder of my thoughts and yet flowers repent time spent because your action comes too late.You’ve destroyed a magic garden. Perhaps you’ve done this half unconsciouslybut my body and soul are nowthe recipients of a million woundsthat will conform a landscape of scars. There was a time when I believedthe voice of…

Escape, Illusion and Hope (English + Catalan versions)

ENGLISH: Wandering          state of irreality The moon on a cloud          ripples dreams Of impossibility Bird flying          bleeding heart Icarus wings melted          sunk into the ocean Of a sandy illusion Emerald pine tree          stains souls   …

I Just Met A Turtle

I just met a turtle in the park. It was on the way Not where its mates Usually are, Near the lake Sunbathing. It was solitary. I figured out it spoke To me. Told me to slow down. And so I sat As words began to dance In flight Carrying a smell of pine trees,…

A Silent Voice

A silent voice conveys the absurdity Of fear instilled With perversity. That which the hours have just started To gnaw To chew To eat away with the passing of our Limited time Toppling the glass Half-empty or half-full? Never mind, in the end The glass is overwhelmed: Broken promises burned every day. Once the rain…

The Thread of Intimate Resistance

Ominous winds sweep the earth Brazen. Flames get higher and almost Burn you. Breathing fresh air while rowing, Your journey Goes on. The piercing ground lies at your feet, The sheltering sky is also pierced And more distant Than ever. Take your needle Start to sow Recompose the broken pieces Of life’s puzzle. This thread…

A Message – a poem by David Redpath

To know what Love is, with just a picture big glimpse through an open door. Beyond the broken schemes, and forsaken dreams, littering a crooked floor. Of things never spoken this side of the shadow curtain. Tasting that promise certain of abundantly so much more. view original post