Is this right?
Valentine,
dreadful word.
It can’t describe the love,
others cannot see.
A pathetic symbolic memory,
for those who don’t know how to use their skills.
The art of love.
Painted with all the colours of the world,
seen by true lovers.
Real lovers do not need one special day as a reminder.
Those who love without a reminder,
are the most appreciated.
For those who feel that every day together is unique.
For those who know that every day together is special.
(2004)
These days,
love’s wrapped in red paper,
given with red roses and satin hearts.
Chocolates,
a taste of love.
Loving,
by the promises you can’t keep.
Kisses
and embraces,
making love.
Love suited for dinners,
beef and wine.
Love described by
poetry
and trips to Paris.
(2004)
Tender lovers
ordering tickets to modern love.
Catch my breath.
Wish it was not so.
Why can’t it be like before.
I don’t understand.
Why can’t the three little words,
be enough?
Hearts locked up in prisons,
set ‘free’ by their keys
on Valentine’s day.
Love spreads.
Chasing.
Breathlessly.
People like me go hiding.
Valentine oxygen burns up my little lungs,
I’m seeking some stuffiness that suits me.
Find myself as an owl,
sickened by the Valentine sunshine.
Searching desperately,
but I got my own loving soul.
My own spark of divine fire.
Do not need a note.
(2004)
Gifts,
wrapped in red paper.
Red roses,
satin hearts.
Chocolates
and promises you can’t keep.
Kisses
and embraces.
Lovely dinners,
beef and wine.
Poetry
and trips to Paris.
I turn my back.
A gust of wind
sends chills down my spine.
I throw up,
laughing hysterically.
Wondering.
Where are the unspoken words of truth?
Questioning a stupid tradition.
Heartbroken lovers crying,
shameful.
Making me laugh.
What pity.
(2007)
Dikterjentas blogg 