Konjit Berhane Poems

Trying hard to live having small to give
Is it life?

Don’t know how far to go
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Precious life, hers never seemed
Working from dusk till down
For anyone who inquires, with vim
She does every thing and anything in return for nothing
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After his death…
Whose death?
The cyclist’s
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The planet is a garden
We the people are the plants
God is the gardener
And he didn't want to have one-colored flowers
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The liar
With great desire
To have a hair
That resembles mine
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If loving him was a crime?
I wonder why she’s spending her time
May be by a cruel judge she is sentenced
Or she made it her lifetime creed
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I might fall once …twice
Or even more
‘N you will show me your wicked smile
That I don’t adore
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Bored and unemployed in my

Bed
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The rich wind with golden dust
Has been going wild and fast
As if it has a life that’ll forever last
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On the surrounding of the cemetery on our neighborhood
Just to count the sitting old men I once stood
Each and every one of them is above sixty
Who used to love to take a walk in the city
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