A short poem her poet sent;
A woman, digging up the thick forest,
is trying to touch
the love of the poet.
Finally, catching an unfathomable word
and hugging it just like a puppy,
she mumbles, “this might be his confession of love?”.
Poet’s woman reads and reads and reads again
and chews and chews and chews again the word.
“No woman, no poem”,
the poet never stops singing women.
“Is this woman me?
Rummaging his myriad poems
that are more than his women,
and trying to find her image,
the woman wants to feel his love for her
Watching poet who is dreaming
in the flower garden again today,
the woman who loves the poet,
is waiting for a simple sentence, ‘
I love you’
through his sexy baritone voice,
not through his convoluted poems.
The man with banal look
was believed to a jewel in the mud,
so she committed her lift to him
and kept brushing the dirt
off during her entire whole life.
After many a decade,
The jewel turned out to be a poet.
Her look can’t be described even in this poem.
Is she trying to dismiss gold as common stone?
Or she is trying to take a small rock as a treasure?
It is fortunate
her brushing didn’t start earlier…
Lady poet’s well;
I open its light cover and look into it.
I can’t see anything – pitch black well.
I see why nobody opens the cover.
The hamlet nobody visits;
Not sure why I am here.
Its door is open but
I don’t see any footsteps;
How lonely her well is!
However, however, however,
dark wells surrounding her well –
even without covers to lift.
She wouldn’t be lonely.
In the hamlet for poets only,
They give cuddle to each other passionately.
They provide comfort to each other profusely.
They throw praise to each other lavishly.
In the hamlet for poets only,
I will dig my own well – deep and very dark.
A well for me only.
A self-proclaimed poet who has been walking
in a desert desperately looking for Hippocrene
for quite some time is attending Sunday Morning
Holy Mass alone. Alas! Two beautiful women enter
the sanctuary and take a pew right in front of the
nameless poet. Their not-so-cheap perfume arouses
poet’s imagination. They look intimate, almost too
intimate; they look lovely. They seem to love each
other; they must be lovers. How fitting in the holy
place full of Jesus’ love! The poet recalls the scenes
of last night’s les porno and replaces the actresses
with two women in front. Better than straight adulterous
lovers, aren’t they? God’s providence – the poet who
didn’t want to go to Mass was drawn to it and found
the beautiful image and wrote this weird poem – works
in mysterious way. The nameless self-proclaimed poet
got another big inspiration but it is too holy to mention
in this blasphemous poem. Thanks and Praise Lord!
A poor painter –
building the world only for him –
won’t paint people’s world.
That is why he is so impoverished.
A beautiful woman –
crouching down her body –
is looking for a crack
to get in his tiny world.
How small are you –
Trying to come into my world;
A bird nest that is too small even for me?
An obscure poet who
fills his empty mind
with his own world,
Is a poor painter.
Fill your void with me fully.
Perhaps if you can see the people’s world,
you could be still poor but happy.