Home

You want me to go back home
What is home?
For you
For me
it’s where my heart is
Not where my heart is
buried under the ground
of your monarchy
You want me to go back home
Not because you love me
but because you feel alone
Not because you want me there
but because you hear the whispers
Which tell you
you shouldn’t have done
all the things you had done
You want me to go home
where the walls echo
how rotten you really are
Was it home?

© W. Donovan

Writing, writing in the morning.

Dear Readers

I had a wonderful morning today. I woke up early before the sunrise and I stepped outside into the cold air. Took myself for a little trip, far away from the crowd yet so close.

I waited there for the sun to wake up, greeted it with all the joy I could make from myself. The chill touched my cheeks. I was patient though, wanted to see it, feel the warmth I craved.

Then I went to town, still silent, coming to life, and I purchased a cup of tea to warm myself up. Sitting there, enjoying the morning and drinking tea I started to write.

OK. Now I’d like to explain something.

The book I wrote – ‘Ghosts’ – is the first of four volumes I plan to write and self-publish. So, I’d like to inform you that I’m currently collecting poems for a second volume that will be published some time soon. Wish me luck!

And of course, I want to THANK YOU ALL for purchasing my book! Please, leave a review if you like it. That would help me a lot.

Ghosts. Poetry volume I – available on Amazon.

Voices [VII]

Voices in my head
I can hear them all the time
whisper that I’m a bad man.
Down on my knees
I’m begging for mercy.
Is that what you wanted?
You don’t understand anything.
I did it because I wanted to
I wanted to be worthy of you.
But you still don’t understand.
I told you many times
that I loved you.
You thought it was a joke
You thought it was a fad
You thought it was a lie
Do you believe me now?
Will you let me love you
be close to you
even if you don’t want it.
Please tell me
that you’ve forgiven me
that you need me
that I deserve it.

© W. Donovan

Surface

My tears ruffle the peaceful surface of the ocean
It’s no longer a reflection of the calm sky
The peace of our souls. It’s nothing
Our hearts are broken now
and we can bury everything in the ground.

© W. Donovan