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.
Friday, February 2, 2018
love broke away from words
their sound
their meaning
it dropped like pebble into a sea
on the bottom it didn't find connection with other sunken objects
it feels like seventy two according to the forecast
it is seventy two
i feel a little hot in my deserted bedroom and still a little wet after a bath i took
but it is kind of strange to tie these feelings to numbers 7 and 2
fast feet are falling on the cemetery ground
and everything around and beneath
each resting bone and every restless teacher on a lunchbreak
are rooted in this soil as i am taking heed
exposed to the elements of science most forms of life will drown in the sea
a memory of self in rising waters will morph into a memory of cells
and in the lines of an unwritten scripture what kind of lies my eyes will never see?
memory was lost and found in controlled environment
in a room full of people the words are five six tall and placed so close together that i can't see what's behind them
what does it take to change the way of doubt into a wake of boat
i pray that I can spell the syllable of silence and spill the ruckus back into the sea
