55 to 61 of 100


Vagabond soul
This I must accept
I must remind myself
When my hungry heart
Searching for an anchor
Casts off once again
Crying invisible tears
Into a lonely sea
And my practical mind
Only lets me fly so far
Where I will always see the shore
Monsoon of doubts
I swim back
Infinite moon.


How a grown man
Speaks to a woman
And of course
The infinite
Fuck you’s
Forming storming norming performing
How it goes
But at norming came another hurricane
Again and again
And it’s all because he loves me
He explains
Heart swells!
Sweet girl
(Also ugly, dirty, short)
Sheds one last, sad tear
At seeing his bleeding foot
And still sharp tooth
Smart girl
(Still ugly, dirty, short)
Finally out of bandages.


Everything has turned to nothing
It doesn’t happen in a moment
Except the last straw
Weighs the same
Is the heaviest


There is no
Dear, God!
For crying out loud
There is only
Dear, Christina.


I judge the damage
By the enjoyment
The guilt
I judge the damage
By the opinion
The religion

I give my name
At the coffee shop
Where I run in for a quick espresso
I give my name
At the restaurant
Where I dine for an hour
I give my name
At the park
Where I sit and read and breathe
for a few peaceful moments
I give my name
Like a debutante
To all the lovely strangers
Who take my order
And prepare my coffee
And share kind words
Human moments
Except the stranger
With whom I pass an hour
Under the sheets
Fulfilling a need
Just another need
For this one we must
Not say our name
For this need
We must feel shame!

I judge the damage
By the society
Where I happened into
I call it damage!
Only here
To make this point
I do as I please.


Thank you for bare feet
On my balcony
In November
Thank you for five drinks
Instead of ten
The wisdom of ageing
Thank you for one cigarette
And not I don’t know
Hope, belief and perseverance
One more drag
One more little shiver


Pourquoi tu rigoles?
I am not laughing

Pourquoi tu souris?
No reason

I think
The most fascinating thing
About ageing
Is the ever-increasing
Diversity and complexity
Of thought
If you’re lucky

Or if you choose
To be aware
And if you are old
But not so old
That the breadth and depth
Of thought
Begins to short circuit
Or fade
He said
And laughed.

It’s Mademoiselle
I said
And smiled.

À propos de Stina

If I could tell you about me in a neat and tidy definitive statement, I don't think I'd be writing this blog.
Cette entrée a été publiée dans Poetry. Mettre ce permalien en signet.

Laisser un commentaire

Entrer les renseignements ci-dessous ou cliquer sur une icône pour ouvrir une session :

Logo WordPress.com

Vous commentez à l’aide de votre compte WordPress.com. Déconnexion /  Changer )

Photo Google

Vous commentez à l’aide de votre compte Google. Déconnexion /  Changer )

Image Twitter

Vous commentez à l’aide de votre compte Twitter. Déconnexion /  Changer )

Photo Facebook

Vous commentez à l’aide de votre compte Facebook. Déconnexion /  Changer )

Connexion à %s