Winter Birds

They’re not gone, they’re just resting,
They flee amicably, they return silently,
They’re the wonder birds.

One went down, heard something?
A false melody,
Maybe an anthem,
Maybe a dream,
Maybe a mime
That was lost
in the woods,

What about the one that stayed
and vanished once in a while?
No sound, no trace,
Just crossing over,
Just slipping through,
Probably trying to live
Or get closer to the skies,

Way far, way low was another one,
Too fast to tell,
Too deep to see,
Too scared to give up,
Attached to the trunk,
Away from everything else,

One came out of nowhere,
Looking for its kind,
Calling for a different time,
Screeching for identity,
Lamenting for years,
Inside and out,

One was still waiting,
Clueless of the change,
Curious with the voices,
Wondered about the withered,
Fascinated by the flakes,
Fell into deep sleep,
Breathed and breathed –

They were circling in the dusk,
Inks on the clouds,
Fading out, one by one,
Goodbye paper kites,

They seemed so free,
So miraculous,
Especially in my dreams.



Merrily, merrily,
Let’s go with the flow,
I will find my thoughts at the end,
Never mind the clock,
Listen to the wind,

Greet the unnamed Saint,
Sail to the sky,
What are you gawking for?
Merrily, merrily…
Cross over the heights,

Say what you feel,
May the rain shelter you
During busy and idle days,
May the snow foster you
Into someone who cares,

Whether you fall or not,
Swing high or low,
Merrily, merrily,
Have mercy, have a try,
Through the crooked hoops,

What can you see?
A parade of lanterns,
Driving off to the unknown,
They go and glow,
While you turn to the next season,

Merrily, merrily.

Skipping the Fall

Be it an abbreviation, be it a cry,
But let it not be a lie,

I’ve frosted some aches,
I’ve feigned some lines,
Nothing is darker than
Fears inside,

Towards the walls,
Gasping for more
Signs and
Minding Nothing,

There was madness
Spread in jest,
What is this
Pathetic sight?

I fall apart,
I barely stand,
Rising is menacing,
Almost like dying,

Words can fly away
But they always
Come back –
Turn around,

Tell me about
Your wounds,
Your lies,
Your endless tries,
What tore you apart,
What you lost, 

What you cared,
What you sought,
Meant more than –
Always moving
Forward and not
Thinking behind,
Uneven ratios,
Flat chords, 

That’s enough,
Familiar steps
Extend the clouds,
Waiver the gap,

Wave the rest,
Wave them good night.


Toss it in the street,
Throw it in the river,
Leave it to the sky,

Crash, destroy, trample
Whatever you do,
It’ll appear again –

Listen to it quietly,
Mend it with your voice,
Find it to the core

Of your will,
Stains will grow,
So does strength,

Cry if you may,
Try if you must,
Live and live more if you will,

Whenever you remember,
Coarse strings
Always synthesize

Fair bubbles
To the mellow wisp.
Hinting for yearnings,

The wind whispers:
‘Run for the tide’
The dress disappears,

Yet the wrinkle stays
In the fate of sand.

Stars, Glasses & Sand

No rush,
Just empty bulbs
Each finding
The ruse
Of all thoughts
Sanitising itself
From the wind
Of the Hollow

What now?
Just grey rainbows
The quiet storms
From the people
Who say
but care

More than anything
They come back
To themselves
Fighting for
Themselves, without
A doubt

No fear
Just chilling
Under the moon
In the white
Soothed by
The warmth
Of the

Sunset Dreams

Standing on puddles,
You were certain you were alive,
Delivering angles of truth,
You welcomed challenges
As if they were your best enemies.

Yet, you feared the slight whisper
That kept you awake and drained,
Forcing you to lose your victory,
Letting you watch the wrong scenes
In your head, your room and the old streets.

Unaware and aloof,
The space invited a spur of noises,
You thought you were fighting them
But you caressed them with your silence,
And you tore up the torn walls.

Forever became the moment,
You were like a runaway patient,
Going through different circles and taxis,
Trying to dismember any bad memory
That was never made, only structured.

Sunsets called over and made you rest,
You confronted your blues and whites,
While the certified driver was proud to announce,
That people’s flaws were due to their nature,
And skins and cultures were all that matter.

No way that thoughts could mean facts,
Oh, but what a way to express a discrimination!
You remembered your faraway dreams,
Perfection and globes climbed up to your mind
Again, you breathe and slowly you feel

The rain, not the puddles,
The wind, not the heat,
The light, not the fire
The will, not the blood
The signs everywhere

And the limits you put
To yourself,
Forever becomes
A wonder
Once more.


Panic overruled diagnosis
Science invites chaos
Testimony scars visions

What a being
Without knowing how
The earth spills

Everything that shines
Every worm bites
Every dice turns

Every word freezes
When you slither
Front and back

The trees speak
Anguish sends storm

Curiosity creates litmus
Acids intensify mimes
Air reminisces rains

Taints and fevers
Covering the veins
Simmering the pride

The pendulum sways
Knocking the hues
Of the imminent

Were you needed
or ever?


Indifferent spelling
Breaking white

The blinds
Seen from
The tame

Old age
Is old
No matter
They feel

Twenty one
Is forgotten
Is forever

Right now,

As if
We are
When we

The hills
That were

When we
In a different

In a different
And crowd.


Truth is like an old man,
whom you’ve seen before,
with his ragged, filthy clothes,
Often alone, at the side street,
sitting on cardboards
and surrounded by plastics and sheets.

You feel like you want to help him,
but you can’t decide, instead
you pray someone else will,
As a way to redeem your conscience,
As a way to soothe your soul,
You close your eyes
while you try to breathe normally
and bite the tears,
The pain is gone but only temporary;

You see other people do the same,
You curse and condemn them,
You forget your own doings,
You forget your own ignorance.

Your conscience directs you and you depend on it,
But your heart is screaming out loud,
You lie to yourself, you become a mask,
A hideous one who pitifully cries
and scorns no one but itself.

The old man walks away
as he picks up
his cardboards
and coins,
You see his back, you stop crying,
You follow the old man with weak
but careful steps.

You finally approach the old man,
and the old man stays silent,
You speak to him with an awkward laugh,
asking ‘how do you do?’
The man remains quiet, and doesn’t show any move,
You talk to him until you are out of breath,
with polite gestures and random jest,
which you try to make them appear
as real as possible.

You laugh again, with sweats,
when the old man doesn’t say anything,
You murmur ‘sorry if I’ve offended you
in any way, I only wanted to talk’,
And every now and then,
the alley dims and blinks
thriftily, ruefully,
like a slow heartbeat.

You feel strange and you grow scared,
You don’t know what this fear is,
Yet you don’t move an inch to get away,
While the old man seems to drown
His head in his dreams of the sea.

You want to say something again but your mouth is dry,
You feel constrained as the crowd is getting bigger,
You cry ‘help’ desperately as you kneel down
and grab anything that is near.
You feel a rough feeling in your hand.
It’s something nostalgic
that belongs to the old man,
You don’t know what happened,
But –

The old man has fled,
leaving only the cardboards,
and scribbles written on them,
where they appear absurd
to the massive crowd
that forgets to see
the truth –

like the old man.