Poetry
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I love you maybe not
Fingertips are dancing over clouds and raindrops swimming in the lake,the wind is gently caressing your cheek and sunrays are singing a song,a squirrel is hiding beneath the rainbow and trees are reaching for those lilies –I only sit on the train, drive the world apart and together.Never now and always I hold my breath
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Slowly it’s all fading
Only one thing that matters, only one.Above and beyond cover the cityas I lay beside you watching you sleep.It’s so easy to be with you. I imagine back the shimmer in your eyes,a glimmer of hope in this disappearing world.This is life: we’re not who we want to be. I want to lift the weight
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Midnight walk
Where the clouds shine and the sun rains,where authors were bornand castles were burned,I met a girl called Amy. She was a long way from homeand lost in this world; amazedand confused she held my armtelling me about where she used to live.It’s a place where I’ve never beenbut always wanted to see,or dream away.
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Love
It’s gone. This morning when I woke upI noticed it’s vanished into thin air –like the smell of cinnamon subtly disappearsout of the streets the day after Christmas. How can I force myself to get out of bed?It’s gone. Sometime in the last hours a dream,or a nightmare maybe, must’ve taken it awaywithout leaving any
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Do something crazy
Stop at a red light and wait till it turns green;take out your earbuds and listen to the sounds around you;walk a bit slower and watch the people passing by;leave that cigarette in the packet and drink a glass of water;lay back and listen to a random song;breathe in and discover the place around you
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The girl from Belfast
(c) Thierry Heles
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What life will you choose?
(c) Thierry Heles
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Wherenever
(c) Thierry Heles
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Saint Girl
Her silver earrings shimmer in the million coloursof the sunlight breaking in through the picture windowwhile she walks past, countless bags in her hands,looking far away into a different world. A little boy plays with an old snow globe and asks his dadhow Santa can be locked in a tiny thing made of glass,while she
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It lasts the length of seven songs
I’ll paint a picture with autumn leaves,carve our names into a bench,or our initials, with a heart around them.I’ll dance in the rain and laugh,smile all day long for no particular reason,crack up when we’re apart,go loopy when we’re not.I’ll make you a mixtape like they used toand put pictures of us online as they
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The Younger Version of Ourselves
There’s a picture of Julie’s big sister selling soup,and one of Ms D. buying a cake;my old history teacher is smiling, I never saw him like this;my philosophy teacher stands in the back, watching Santa Claus —I didn’t know her yet back then.There’s a girl dressed as a present, she looks familiarbut I don’t know
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From here we move on
The sun founders on the horizonas the sea mirrors the black tearand street lamps become our stars.No one claimed it would be easy,no one asserted it would be nice,but my heart still made me hope.Where do soldiers go when the war is overand home is merely a memory?With a slight shudder and nauseaI wish you
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Unending
A truth always unfelt anew,lying somewhere in the Akashic Records:Shakespeare, Proust, Goethe, Boccaccio,yet we still suffer through it.Fallen today, risen only yesterday, dying this way.You give all you have and so much moreto see it vanish into where there isthere anything (left)?Stealing somebody’s soul is the perfect crime. Frozen in time, disintegrating rapidly,cracking, dissipating, crying
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Carrying a torch in the blink of an eye
Drifting through clouds over people unaware,past birds without care, across unessential air —it’s everywhere: perfectibility is crushedby an unblemished soul;so breath in the fear and clear the morrows,all begins here, all ends nowwith one last look forward into the blueand giving in to the quintessential —no misgiving nor remonstrance,only time will bring tangibleness backwhen it
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Grateful
to John Winandy It’s been a long way without you from then to now,floating past if, when, and as though,running over endless, evermore, and nevermore,fighting along once, then, and someday.Words I’ve never said, cities you’ll never visit,moments we’ll never be able to share.But even broken hearts beat and simple memories nourish;some people remain, new friends
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Cello Loops
Look at us, stumbling through half darknesslooking for the light,thanks is the first word I hear you say —a back room is a great place to stop hiding.When we were younger these years were the only ones we had left,faces held high, smiles and awes.If we were younger maybe we’d have a chanceat not saying
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Echoes
I thought I heard your voice speakingas the sad reverberations of my whispercame from those bleak hills. You won’t be forgotten. I thought I saw your eyes looking into mineas the wind was breezing onto my faceand freezing my tears. I thought I felt your hand in mineas I shaved a few leavesand set them
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Eclipse
They’re holding each other so closelyI can’t really tell which one is which.Where’s the thin line you have to cross? It feels like they’re gradually fading into each other,and somehow they already have.I can feel it, I know why.But is it life, is it death,is it sadness, is it happiness,is it love, is it hate?
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I … you.
As a painter needs colours out of visible spectrum,as a composer needs notes inaudible to human ears,as an architect needs material not yet invented,I need words missing in any language. How else could I truly tell youwhat I have been feeling for so long –with a mediocre word such as like,a banalized word such as
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La fille de Lyon
All we have is nothing we truly have:two blue seats and a small black table;who sat here before?Have we been here before? People around us are – we arewaiting to return, leave, wander off;or perhaps not waiting at all,only dreading, displacing, abnegating the parting.Have we been here before?The view has not changed. On the cover
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Rosebud
She’s an artist, about forty, as most habitués here have always been,and sits by the window, drinking the best Bloody Mary in town.Far away from the excitement of touristsbeing and nothingness flickers in her eyesas she remembers the dream of a city of love –a future once imagined and a past never lived.Jazz music meanders
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Tell me
What are the comforting wordsfor someone who lost a loved one?How do you share the painthat no one should have to suffer?What’s the sense in being therewhen you don’t really know how to make them hold on?How absurd is an I feel for youwhen you can’t make things better?How senseless is it to care about
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Semi-deciduous
My poor weakened leaf hold oneven though the old world is snowed under,and its debris unworthy to float over.Your old tree among the ruins of the pastis about to be cut down but have faith,I am fighting to let you live –Chaining myself to the tree I dream of tomorrowwhen I’ll amble past the ruins
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Heaven’s Inferno
My mind is too simple to decipher why butthis love for you is of a strange nature;whensoever I have to endure your soft touchtetrodotoxin immobilizes my body,chlorine blazes through my lungs,and the Nipah virus dashes me into a coma.Whensoever I descry your figureI remember no Shakespearean sonnetnor hear Beethoven’s Fifth Symphonyyet I feel I’m going
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Somewhere else
It’s some time in the middle of the night,I stumble through St Mary Street past closed pubswith an empty bottle of a random beer in my hand.I’m trembling – it’s the cold, it’s the alcohol,it’s the misery, it’s the sadness.Dawn will come but the world’s pitch black nowand I don’t know whetherI will still be
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Awakening
There you are again, welcome back little princess.You look adorable this morningwith your tousled dark brown hair and your face half-hidden under the bedcover,with your sleepy hazel eyes still dreaming and your tired smile full of joy.Let us sleep the day away,the world outside is not as wonderful as it seemsthrough the looking glass.Lay your
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Little princess in make-believe world
I saw you today, staring at the eternity of anticipating circles,attired all in white as if something wonderful was about to happen,and I realized you’d only see your captivating image in the waveswhenever you tried looking across the river. Life beyond the inexpugnable ever-running water for an instant was so closebut then in the blink
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Cracking up
Relinquished dark blond claws frazzle,internecine claws rise. Dear hope, I wish you would claw fiercer. What will become, how could it be fair?Scuppering rising claws,dark blond claws scratching the evanescing.But love,love remains after all. Dear girl, I wish you were less beautiful.