everywhere in the world there are motels
with empty parking lots
waiting for couples
temporarily in love
without useless baggage.
in the nameless rooms,
everywhere the same,
they tame their bodies
still wild,
still hungry.
they mark territories
with wet towels,
fingerprints on empty bottles,
drops of sweat
on the pillows.
they fasten buttons, belts, buckles,
fix their hair,
burn lips with
the last kiss.
they go back to their houses
with the
cat and dog
and fireplace,
extinguished
long ago.
ivona...hello...i love poetry that brings back memories...thanks for that...you have certainly succeeded in capturing in words the emotions and activities surrounding such a rendevous...input? ...hmmm...well maybe shorten some of the lines but that would be purely out of asthetics, otherwise leave it alone...keep writing and thanks for sharing this one! ...maggie
You have more than what it takes to be a poet; you are one. There is something to be said for being spare. The following poem by William Carlos Williams is a good example: The Red Wheelbarrow so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens. I would not advise you to develop a thing. Your poem is beautiful just the way it is.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i quite love this. you have what it takes to be a poet but it has to be developed.