onsdag 16. september 2015

Sometimes we cannot find words; Sometimes we say to much...



They say my heart is a mad admiral
Who quit his life at sea
And remembers it little by little
At home, pacing, pacing...

With this motion (the mere thought
Of which makes me shift in my seat)
The seas he once sailed still toss
In his muscles border of inactivity.

Nostalgia's in his legs and arms.
Nostalgia pours out of his brain.
His boredom turns into raving.

But if, for God's sake, the heart
Was my theme, why is this poem dealing
With an admiral instead of with feeling?


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