Monday, December 21, 2009


Soon the winters will be over,
When the snow will disappear;
Soon the spring will come,
With new leaves flowers plum;

The colored rose,
Sometimes red, pink and so’s;
Little anger, little baby blues,
In her green stem of bodily views;

Soon the springs will be over,
And the summers will appear;
The sun and the tilt of the earth,
Will lead into a heating effect worth;

The petals of the rose,
Will glow more in rows;
The sepals of the rose,
Will entangle with those;

Soon the summers will be over,
And the breezy rain will rover;
Drop by drop,
One on a lop;

The fragrance of the rose,
Mixed with wet earths, everyone knows;
Flowing delicately in nostrils,
The eye color changes to rosy thrills;

Soon the summers will be over,
And the winter will cover;
Cool to cold,
Soon too bold;

The calmness of the rose,
Whitish with snow covered she arose;
Rose- a flower for every season,
Rose- a fairy in every reason.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

The Rhyme

Last night,
In less light;
I was composing a rhyme,
In an erratic and sleepy hymn;

In heads I thought,
In dreams just bought,
A trance of silver cascade,
With a golden fa├žade;

A baby boy smiling,
And a mother clasping;
A baby doll crying,
And a father tears eyeing;

The whole earth,
Shrunk in a globe still worth;
The dome of priceless diamonds,
Surrounded by trees of almonds;

A brother and sister,
Holding hands together,
Playing, fighting, plucking hairs,
Love, Anger, sorry hearing ears;

A tree of gold,
A plant too old;
The poor, the rich,
The saint, the witch;

The death cry and the birth laughter,
Something before, many things after;
The trees, the fruits,
The stem, the roots;

A home of hundred rooms,
Doors, windows and forlorn roofs;
One person per one room,
Hundred bodies in a gloom;

Rejected, dejected, sarcastic souls,
Lurking, murky, mournful fools;
A sparrow in nest,
A humming bird flying from east to west;

Such things,
Much things,
Made a rhyme,
In an erratic and sleepy hymn.