Christopher Teale Poems

Don't hear, listen.
Don't give, share.
Don't see, notice.
Don't hope for good, do good.
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My tears are black ink
That spill upon empty pages
I try to hold them back, till I blink
And they escape their swollen cages
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La noche se alarga con tu memoria
Pensamiento que arde en mi mente
Mientras la Luna pasa por el cielo lentamente
Para hacerme acuerdo de la cruel belleza
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The only means to survival is death,
For I die to poetry,
I die to humanity,
to survive as a parody to man.
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Lines that tell me where to walk,
in the bustling, crowded street.
On the black board, lines of chalk
lines to narrow for my own two feet.
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A leaf upon the wind
A pebble in the river
We walk to a forgotten end.
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I look upon the fragile existence of our Universe,
Entropy and chaos, emptiness and death
Every atom decaying, whilst I write this very verse
Life failing from existence with every single breath
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En aquellos profundos lagos
Volverán nuevamente a resonar
Los tristes y lentos pasos
De un hombre solitario, al caminar
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Trembling like a leaf upon the tree
When struck by the sudden breeze
I trembled as I looked on thee
As your hair danced with the breeze
...