One day I decided to write a poem a day. I called it "The Folded Poems" because I pretended finding them under a chair written on the folded pieces of paper. The only criteria for the poems to be, was my own endorsement. I was the judge. If it "sounded" right, I kept it. Keeping with the pace, though, was not easy. Here I am posting them up to date. I am still writing, but not necessarily every day.
Sunday, February 12, 2017
A crow on a tree may signal isolation to anyone who slows at the sight. He may be dead, or so deafened by loud bellows of the wind that ticking time does not occur to him. He chained himself to one of many branches of solitude.
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