Post Midnight Rain

Night befallen, I lay in bed.

So calm in silence.

I'm in the sea of tranquility- 

its existence oft unknown to me.

My eyes closed,

sounds echo in the depths of my caverns.

The drops of the shy rain 

hiss in unison- their

constant downfall mitigate their drumming.

A crash on the ground silenced

by the next one, a pound.

I imagine them travelling up my window,

their footsteps subtle knocks, but

they slip and never reach the top,

dragging their delicate bodies down

until they finally drip and hit the floor.

As the clouds disappear in the dark light,

drops cease to visit

and footsteps' traces 

disappear.

The sole reminder of this late night shower

are the synchronised tangs that

hit the roof above.

A metallic splatter that reverberates,

in time too will slowly fade 

aft into sleep I'll have succumbed,

vistim of its ticks.

Rains forgotten, even

before they've gone.No trace to be left.

Its remnants heated by the early rays of sun.

Section.

Sarah just sat there in her bed. She could hear the walls of her temples being stripped and agony filled her heart. Her head hurt while she cried silently, not wanting to be heard. The first time you hear destruction it tears your world apart, when you see it later though, falling it crumbles beneath your feat and cracks, one foot each side of the divide; you realise that you are witnessing a situation that seems all but sane, your vision is already blurred with tears that will soften a reality too harsh to bear- you cannot see through a crystallized, glossy stare.

Excerpt from a future play.

stream

A glacid stream,
older than man can count.
A journey which never ends;
it sometimes rushes,
it sometimes crawls,
it may hide,
it may fall.

Its path perfected day by day,
a path so deep so green
it's a crafted piece of jewellery.

It finds a brother, they create a river
of blue unseen before.
Turquoise waters flow down this valley,
where trees of all sorts you can find,
and fruit of each and every kind.

They scent the air, colour the leaves.
All because of a single, little stream.

First to you-

Every time I look into your eyes I feel

my heart pound like an earthquaked ground,

my stomach fills with butterflies,

a feeling for you that never dies.

You make me smile reasonless,

you make me feel speechless.

All I can say, all I can think

every time I look into those eyes of yours

is that I love you.

I don't know why, I can't help it,

I just do.

Natura sapiens

I think we're all so set at looking down
that'm not seeing above our horizon of roofs
we've got mountains, na tis old.
And one tone higher than the whirr of cars
we've got an incessant melody of birds. It's
that background music against this noise in our minds. That motor.

We never look up from this street pavement, now wet with ponderings and muddles,
To see the rain dropping on your face makes you hide.

We never realise we hurry to places we don't want to be. Rush to meetings or rencontres in which we don't say much or learn.
Patience, beauty and that green we all cultivate next to that soggy paper.
Often all we see is a metallic grey of cars,
the bright red of lights and another street,
again.

Inspect those old paths below our feet, do we look, follow?
That puddle fills.
We're too scared to take that walk through the leaves in autumn.

Do we ever smell nature? Do we notice the sweet smell of trees or can we scent the rich aroma of ground under water?
Do we ever hear the leaves crunch beneath our feet or feel them? Are those birds I hear?
Am I looking?.. at that building of stone and metal or am I just seeing the clock behind those trees, over that river- with ducks.
Have we conquered nature with our black paths and roads? Have we trapped it, cornered it, controlled it yet?
We sweep those leaves and mow that lawn, we trim the tree. We do control it, but its branches loom over us and they are dripping on the back of my head, drooped over these pages.
I make a fleeting glance up and miss the tones of the clouds, I cannot see the shades of nature for they have dripped too far. But my page is darkened now as I cast my shadow from the light to protect it from this wretched rain.

Again?

Intro.

I've been writing for quite a long time, a bit of everything too. There is poetry, descriptive narrative, plays, short stories and all in the three languages I know well: Catalan, English and Spanish.I'm quite vain, or my genie loves me greatly, so much of the stuff is how I feel, but isn't all writing just a subjective expression put into words? I don't believe in strict structures so don't be too worried if my poems turn into prose and viceversa, shit happens!

This wee blog will contain some of my writings in several languages and there will be tags for you to navigate through it all if you wish.

Oh, and feel free to comment!