Individual Destinies Poem by Dorina Brandusa Landen

Individual Destinies



I myself pass hastily
with a camera
peer to myself
I know where I am
I have a name and a record
though the images distort themselves
hitting a cloak of noise
on which I weave showers of people
shivering like dry leaves
immersing themselves in the snow

I step in front of the curtain of my eyes
my sight opens - looking-glass
in the faces that stretch-n-grow -
imaging each event
carving the things in a form
while myself
I'm as shapeless as air
and the lens of the camera
is my true face

my double-edged tongue
tenderizes the flesh of words
leaves them ringing in the deafness of time
to flow in their freely own way
to discover the hidden meaning
to let slip those fixed ideas from their mind
under a tinsel which is hiding
a festering wound so deep
that we'll never know its stems

I show signs of disorder
I begin to see and feel
what it means to be in their place -
distraught or cheerful destinies -
individual destinies
smaller and more insignificant than
the saharas' grains of sand
how innocent seem their lives
chewed in the jaws of the days

the breeze through the crowns of pines
disturbs the outbursts of laughter
the sludge of darkness covers the faces
the images of youth are fading
unaware that danger is very close
it lies in their skin in the hopes of the hapless
in the enormous indifference that they never hide
sometimes they take it off or pull it over as a
curtain over an eyelet
between them and the environment that poison the vegetation

petered flocks preside weird weddings -
the birth and the death bound to burn -
twin tree and fickle forest
under the weight of time
shadows come down treading blindly
of the animals in the storm

always migrating in search of a visible self
all of a sudden I become images of the impossible
when I understand that the future will resemble the present

This is our lonely world
a set world of things
all that touch you eats you out of house and home
nourishment to the underground ferns
promised paradise for the weak faint a legend
where the important thing is to know your place.

Thursday, November 16, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poet
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Roger Escorcia 16 November 2017

Wow, that was amazing. Thank you for posting.

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Dorina Brândusa Landn 16 November 2017

I'm glad you like my poem!

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