
Faulty

Make your life a poem.
Every day now
it’s twice as long
When I’m still thinking of you
And not intentionally
I go to the place
where we were together
and we talked all night
© W. Donovan
Where are you my friend
Where did you go?
Maybe it’s not too late
you could love me again.
© W. Donovan
You came and
wanted me to say
that I love you.
It didn’t matter
whether it’s true
whether it’s not.
‘I love you’
I said.
I don’t know, if you believed.
You only smiled.
And you left
knowing you have a reason to live for
knowing there’s somebody who needs you
knowing you are important for me.
At least, somebody loves you
and you’ll never be alone.
© W. Donovan
Street lamps brighten her path
Birds’ singing fill her ears
The trees are her companion.
She’s standing here now, deserted streets.
And only the wind brings old whispers.
She sees a girl waving at the window.
Only wind, wind, wind
brushes her hair aside
Only wind, wind, wind
whispers tender words in her ear
Only wind, wind, wind
touches the palm of her hand.
Empty streets and empty gardens
Lost in the space of emptiness
Overwhelmed by nothingness, meaningless
Alone in the midst of a row of benches
Where only the flowers seem to be alive.
The sudden clatter of the train gives her hope.
Only wind, wind, wind
imitates a kiss on her lips.
Only wind, wind, wind
covers her shoulders like a coat.
Only wind, wind, wind
evokes a feeling of huge emptiness.
© W. Donovan
This morning I put on pearls
later I ran to the forest
and I lost them somewhere
dancing between the trees.
I looked around, feeling lost
when the damp smell hit my nostrils
and the cones prickeld my feet
and I felt scratches on my shoulders.
I lost everything again,
but I realized that
I cannot pretend to be
someone I am not.
Abandoned, different, trivial
I can only look and touch
Read carelessly written pages
Imagine playing the piano
© W. Donovan
I know, I crossed the line, right on the edge.
I know, I leaned too intensely.
Just to fall, lose control.
This is not a real life.
You’re wrong, if you think so.
© W. Donovan
Tell me how to fly
when everything flows.
I’ll rather drown,
than I choke with the air.
Tell me how to fly
when it’s difficult to walk.
I’ll rather stumble,
than I float into the air.
© W. Donovan
Although I still talk, not much
I could only run with ghosts
I’m invisible, I’m nothing
Shall I cry with all my might?
© W. Donovan