A sound 

and its own halo 

above me 

constructing new horizons 

of views unseen 

Yet I remain myself 

Behind the grazing fields of sound 

A new world 

of poetics 



[poetic license] 


Poems like to talk about themselves 

And hide behind metaphors 

But I am not like that 

I recoil when I hear my name 

But everything is fine 

As long as you call me 




They say the night is young 

But I have an old soul 

They say it doesn’t matter 

But it is not a question of matter 


, , , , , , , , ,
Latest Posts from Unikum

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.