Stefan BR

The Grasshopper - Poem by Stefan BR

afraid for
steamed-up hot tea
in the morning,
the sweet brownie
waiting warm
on the table,
the purple-cushioned
velvet armchair
in the evening -
letting your child
blame the beach
the red-blue toys
and the pink balloon
flying on the sea -
oh, you grasshopper
you hop and you hop,
beyond the boos,
not to think home,
which you then thought
you burned
in your fireplace,
all alike a priest
who condemns fire
only to praise
the sparkly coal.

And now -
tied to a mast
wearing sunglasses,
getting brown-tanned,
with a skin, pale,
hopping and hopping
as the circling wolves
howl at the moon

Nights are
wounds of plastic dolls
from which blue waves
are gushing out,
but your eyes
are molded
in a steaming-frost,
as you hop -
and you hop
in the squared light.

Topic(s) of this poem: fear of self, love and life, psychological

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Poem Edited: Tuesday, April 24, 2018

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