A moment

Coffee moment

Wood moment

Cinnamon smell

Is it that fresh?

Coffee moment

An afternoon kiss

Smile, laugh and don’t forget to dream

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The soldiers of the constant fight

The soldiers took their rightful positions.

The fight is ready to begin.

The smell of war is flying around.

The night is settling down.

The day comes the night goes

and the clock is moving like it usually does.


But the fight is not beginning

the soldiers are standing there,

doing nothing but staring and breathing

and looking in the air.

Their eyes are black and hollow

seeing nothing and all

just waiting for the orders to follow.


But the orders are not coming

and the nights and days are passing by.

The seasons are making circles

and the time has started to fly


The soldiers now are yawning

looking around for what they are supposed to fight.

But nothing is coming their way.

Now they think they are wasting their life away:

“Do we stand for nothing here?

Is there not a battle field?”


The place suddenly starts trembling

and golden rain comes from the sky.

Realizing there is no fight to fight

and no struggle to struggle

the soldiers do not die, nor disappear.

They are now ONE with the battle field.



The memory

Memory here, memory there

Have all our memories gone elsewhere?

I doubt…

Doubt, doubt, doubt…

Our memories have always been there in the crowd


I closed my eyes and started taking the trip

Jumping and searching and looking

For my golden key


I saw dragons with a roaring fire

I faced soldiers killing with desire

Wise men in the name of pride

And others because the one they killed only seemed wild.


After that the images changed

I saw drizzling golden rain

I smelled the smell

And dance the dance

Retaking all the secret steps

I remembered the thoughts I needed to

And saw the stories I was afraid to


Now memory here, memory there

I am looking for a memory without a pair

The first one, the old one, the one from the beginning

That holds the secrets to what I am feeling.

I know there is a hidden memory somewhere

The final answer is still resting there

I look and search and go through tunnels

But it only seems like I am changing the channel.

Suddenly there is a whisper in my head

“I will appear to you when there is no fear of me left”


Writer’s life

It was a sad and cloudless morning

I took my pen out of my kit

And put a feather in my head

Did I really think it would help me to write best?


I ate an apple and drunk some tea

but the ideas were still not pouring out of me.

I started crying from despair

then I went to the fridge to eat a pear.


“Let’s see a movie” I told myself

“Or read a book that would be the best!”

I run with joy up and down

even my spider thought:

“we have a crazy one around”


The evening found me in the bathtub

thinking “that’s it, my fate as a writer it’s done”.

I threw away my pens and pencils

even my favorite notebook full of sketches.


Two months passed and I still cry.

I always thought I would be a writer for life.

I walk pass the places I loved to write

and I don’t speak with people I used to inspire.


Friends have left me all alone

and I have no one to turn to when I feel alone.

They say “you act like your best friend died”

which is true my writing has gone out of sight!


Searching and searching I sat by the sea

I closed my eyes and my mind was full of dreams.

An empty page came my way

and I started writing about my long day.