Tag Archive | Poetry

Dark Lane

I walk in a lonely

dark lane,

I fear the night

Cicadas tease me

with their low hiss.

My home is still far away,

I hit a stone

and my heart freezes

at the sharp sound.

I look around

and fear turns into wonder

as a bud blossoms

into a purple flower.

Bees swarm

around the new-born flower

and I find a place

in a rusty bench.

I don’t want to move

I don’t want to go home

I swap my fear

for joy and wonder,

glued to the mesmerizing

beauty of the night

Fantasy Animal


A poet watches from afar

as a woman in white flowing gown

transforms into a graceful Pegasus

taking to the sky with abandon,

hair entangled in spongy clouds

taking them with her

birds calling to this fantasy animal

who swoops down into a glowing lake

drinking honeyed water

and standing still

for a chat with the golden unicorn

in the midst of the lake

The Unicorn


A proud unicorn plays with the wind, invisible to the human eye. Self-absorbed in his own magic, he pauses for a moment at the full moon night.

The moon soars high

rivalling me in magic

My envious eyes, enraptured

The Court



The courtesan dances,

each intricate step performed

with careless ease,

tempting the king, the prince,

the minister and the courtier,

but her legs sway for the court musician,

who knows her every rhythm,

while his voice calls to the princess,

he secretly admires, but the princess

dreams of the prince in an enemy kingdom

whereas this spoilt prince

imagines a hostile state’s dancer

beside him on the royal throne


En sti i Odense.

Lulling us to sleep

and a peaceful dream

in the long rhythmic journey,

the horse-cart travels in a rugged path,

determinedly trotting ahead

tracing every curve

in the dark lane

The River



Sun rises solely

to serenade the river

and the river spreads

towards the shore

while demurely watching the sun

Trees enjoy this rendezvous,

thoroughly entertained,

till dusk enters the scene

Who is ‘Moon’?


His mind clouds with serious thoughts

and uneasiness, like that of a court poet,

when he looks at the slippery moon.

Some he had compared to the guiding star,

flattered a few as the brightest star

and likened others to the luminous star, but to whom

did he confer the title of moon? Ah! He had to find out

before the prom, for she was

to be his partner

Written for Ermilia’s Picture it & Write