Dear Sylvia

Dear Sylvia
So you know….as we were talking days ago
i was interrupted by the time
so short between us

I tried as you tried…one, two and three
Be happy it is not for poets

I dont give up and i think you don’t gave up also
You just was carved in marble…

I had no time to look and say goodby

But lies above …as a shadow , as a cloud…
Full of rain, and lightnings….heavy
Mixed with my feelings
As a second identity of me
was good…
You… a ghost living at the third floor
Of my unconsciousness

I like bees…the hum …you know
Bees are so so fat and noisily fun
But not a box of bee
They are dangerous and they aren’t for us

I discovered through you
We try because of others
When we absorve the others shadows
Becoming dark …their darkness melted in us

So many wishes… who is the owner?
becoming a reflection of their desires
constant splashes on the river bank
The mirrors know
But must be a place
to hide …maybe to rest

and i ask to myself if there has not room
without solitude, without cold

And no heaven, no hell
at least… not a shortcut… nothing so fast

Sylvia Plath

maybe God will build
a silent spot… you’ll sit, i’ll sit
to watch….silence and move

as you see my dear friend
I am  trying  as you tried


be happy…it is not for poets

Just my Hair…

i wanted to cut my hair
really…very short

as a man…

with that neck…so so clean
I wanted to protest against myself
NO! Was i heard

I wanted to cut off the tubes in my veins


The white man shot off against to me
What a fright!

He seemed so so right!

So…after that…i remember who i am
or i used to be

i put all tubes off from me
and yelled louder


I took my right way to home

walking alone and being myself free

but my hair

so strange feeling

nobody goes on unpunished

it is the same as always
until i know really, really who i was

Until that moment…. i am alone