I feel, I think, I write,
Seriously,
I know not the difference,
Between day and night,
I write to survive,
To calm the fever of the mind,
That can find no peace,
Just the memories it has left behind.
Good, Sandra. Very well written. Our expression is at least half of our life. People not expressing themselves live at most a half life. It was RW Emersonn saying this in his essay, the poet. I love this poem
Beautiful as well as wonderful because I know the difference between day and night. Thought provoking poem shred nicely.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
so does your writing cover just the past, or is it in the future way out there and always without sutres? what it is like right in the now? regardless of feelings no sacred cows? Do you let it all out, or just selected thoughts? It's rarely ever cold and always quite hot! (and sonorous)