Sunday, 27 September 2015
Friday, 25 September 2015
Sisters
Have you seen my hands? Have you looked at them lately? Have you seen how you left them, what you took from them, leaving them completely empty?
And I am like you, sister, I am equal to you: made from the same earth, from the same water, from the same blood and bones and flesh... and still... you don't see me.
I bend my body to grab what fell and between my legs, behind me, there's a mirror where I see a prolific heart. Where is that heart?
And I am like you, sister, I am equal to you: made from the same earth, from the same water, from the same blood and bones and flesh... and still... you don't see me.
I bend my body to grab what fell and between my legs, behind me, there's a mirror where I see a prolific heart. Where is that heart?
Monday, 14 September 2015
Thursday, 10 September 2015
Sunday, 16 August 2015
Poetry, like all arts, just exists in people's mind, so one has to have it in the mind to see it. It's all a matter of the mind's perspective.
Since an early age, when I became a poet at 13, I've gone through stages regarding it. Thus, poetry and being a poet has been perceived by me as a necessity, a curse, a matter of survival, something that doesn't exist at all, and even craziness.
I guess that looking at the World and some of its wonders and sorrows one can be a poet seeing them and only being a poet you can really feel them.
Since an early age, when I became a poet at 13, I've gone through stages regarding it. Thus, poetry and being a poet has been perceived by me as a necessity, a curse, a matter of survival, something that doesn't exist at all, and even craziness.
I guess that looking at the World and some of its wonders and sorrows one can be a poet seeing them and only being a poet you can really feel them.
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