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Literature Text
I cling to small things:
The deep color of your eyes;
The poetic rhythm of your hips;
The beautiful lines of your face
I cling to small things:
The emphasis with which you say some words;
The softness of your gestures;
The stars that escape from your smile
I cling to small things:
hope;
dream;
desire
I'm a castaway in the life
and do not want to drown in this icy ocean,
Then I cling to small things,
and swim desperately
I swim trying to reach the island of your heart
The deep color of your eyes;
The poetic rhythm of your hips;
The beautiful lines of your face
I cling to small things:
The emphasis with which you say some words;
The softness of your gestures;
The stars that escape from your smile
I cling to small things:
hope;
dream;
desire
I'm a castaway in the life
and do not want to drown in this icy ocean,
Then I cling to small things,
and swim desperately
I swim trying to reach the island of your heart
Literature
Love
Kiedy czujesz woń bezduszną utoń w niej,
bo serce potrzebuje tego nie głowa.
Ty nie kochasz tej miłości sercem,
ty jej nie rozumiesz.
Pozbądź się ciężkości,
pozwól sobie na to co najgłębsze.
A dojdziesz do miejsca w którym zrozumiesz...
Że miłość po prostu jest.
Wiersz mojej koleżanki. Pozwoliła na publikację. B.G.
Literature
I Wish I Did and I Wish I Didn't
When I’ve finally made up my mind
Leaving all of the confusion behind
I jump back in like a complete fool
With no regard to the golden rule
When I see you, it comes flooding back
A desperation, full of courageous lack
I wish I did and I wish I didn’t
Knowing the one that has me smitten
Some days are fine, those are divine
My mind is set, I know my lines
But days are down when no one’s around
To know that truth is a ten ton crown
I try to hide it, but it doesn’t work
My closest friends know my closet of dirt
Ambivalent and reluctant
I wish I did and I wish I didn’t.
Literature
A Crown of Wheat
When dust motes dance in morning’s mourning light
And Rumpelstiltskin spins straw hair to gold,
Your sleep-slow breaths are soft with last night’s flight
And I’m still basking in your gentle hold.
Your drowsy smile untouched by dawn’s harsh grasp
Are rapt with dreams of love unmatched and fine.
Our hands of grain and silk did fleeting clasp
For just mere moments more could you be mine.
You were of farmhands, crops, and acres green
And I of gilded chains and slippered feet;
Although we can never be seen,
I would never miss a single heartbeat.
So if a daring prince should come for me
My dear, our love will never ceas
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Yes, it was written for a special woman.
Comments11
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Lovely. So lovely. I have no other words to describe this poem. The last two stanzas. Wow. This has a sort of sophistication that I rarely see around here (or maybe I'm just looking in the wrong places). One question: first stanza, third line. "poetic rhythm of HIS hips"? Who's he? This confuses me a little. Nevertheless, beautifully written. Words aren't enough to describe this beautiful work of art.