In some corner where light never reaches is a little child hiding.
Those that never had been hiding in that corner never will know what is to touch fear with little fingers, wanting, hoping, wishing wishing wishing with closed eyes that that think go away...the uncaring ones.
Drowing is despair waters
are many children,
like butterflies
with tired wings,
with mothers that not care
if nightmares
are invading
their children cribs.
This is so melancholy, Georg. Your metaphor of children as butterflies is very good -- sad to think of the desolate ones with tired wings and mothers who do not care. Very well expressed, my friend. You make us 'feel' your words.
Love,
CJ
My book of poetry is being redone by me, I have a beautiful cover designed and the book will have a few more than 200 poems in it. I am going to have it printed on demand here in Canada. When it is done I will let you know when it is done and if anyo
A further collection of poems, many from years in the Middle East, but also the California San Francisco and Central Coast areas (Santa Cruz, Carmel, Big Sur, Berkeley, etc.).
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Love,
CJ