15 results
I don't know you
but I know too well,
Your habit of not locking the door, and walking shoeless on the cold floor
Your worn pijama with small spots on it
Your messy hair which can almost always be seen in the air ...
  38 
I dream for a quiet place -
where I can rest while mellow air refreshes my body and face
and not be disturbed by humans loudly talking outside;
or by the unpleasantly loud garden machinery;
or by the neighbour stomping heavily on the floor; ...
  61 
I was there with you!
I was waiting for an adventure.
I went to one
but I wasn’t prepared for it.
I left everything and left. ...
  285 
I was on my window today,
holding my binoculars,
watching the birds outside.
I love to watch the birds,
but this day I saw something. ...
  309 
I asked her,
“Why they send you here?
What do you think is wrong with you?”
and she looked at me with a calm, innocent smile.
“ There is nothing wrong with me. ...
  336 
Drab dreary desecration of deformed delusions dawns destructively down drawn devilishly deeper into desolate deformity devoid of dreams.
Deigned divine dominance dooms downtrodden domains of destitute debauchery driven daily downward.
Done deals define duplicitous dukes and demons drenched in damnat ...
  451 
Mansion...
Entrance,
beautiful and welcoming.
Halls,
Nice, clean, ...
  416 
You have gone million light-years away
Time waved last farewell with the aeons
The white nightingale sung his song before its
tender voice to be gone forever
The seven moons' light shall be gone ...
  630 
Нощта претисна ме до постелята
сърцето ми сякаш спря да бие
пред очите ми райска градина
препълнена с цветя красиви.
Аз бягах към тази красота ...
  689 
I dream about you, sometimes.
It's nothing much.
A random conversation
or a simple touch.
  722 
Just imagine a non-statistical girl`s feed
to move rapidly following a drum beat.
She jumps and hops and capers and twirls
and other similar moves or verbs.
Like the best natural driving wheel ...
  747 
every grain of sand
is secretly
a polyhedron
that despises science
like every grain of joy ...
  629 
flying now erratic circles
I'm the moth who didn't flee
glutinous tongue of careless wind
caught me in a single lick
pulling inexorably into the opening ...
  547 
poetry has rhythm, it has heart
but only when the writer does his part
emotions flow and emotions go
in the unconscious down below
thought is left so far behind ...
  620 
patterns in patterns
emotional chatters
none of it matters
as the mind scatters
instinctive desires ...
  439 
Random works
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