Love is an illusion
Blossoming into reality
Once scribbled by sleepless poets
On loose paper or graffiti walls,
Writing as authentic
As the ancient Zen poet Han Shan
Who wrote on trees and stones.
Poems are like the mouth of God,
Once they’re spoken, they’re true
And usher in life and consequences.
Through the maze-like streets
Of amorous poems,
I’ve followed fragile girls home
To kiss small tears
That have lingered in their eyes
For numerous years
And discovered emotional truths
Too weighty for my arms.
Now, how do I navigate safely
A raging river of desire
Scattered with huge rocks of vulnerability?
How to express well-intentioned love
To creative souls
Without shattering the spiritual ship of everyone?
no kidding! the paradox every writer faces..how much honesty is too much? well done
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Men are so much better at writing what they really feel. I like all of your poems. Emotions are very important. Anger, sadness, lonliness, love, hate, good, bad, passion, desire we all have them. Keep up the good work.