I miss you
and the memory
that never happened.
I refused an image of you,
because I knew it will haunt me like
a pirate’s curse.
I’m under your spell,
without you knowing.
I’d like a war, a battle,
that’s more feisty than today,
because right now,
I fight alone,
and you are nowhere near this field.
I want to find you
in the crowd of strangers,
at the station,
and fall to the ground
like a descending autumn colour,
to ask for your forgiveness
once again.
And again.
And a thousand times more.
I played my life
as fair as I could these years,
but nothing came close to wanting
to belong to you
so much.

– Chatty Owl –

81 Replies to “SEPTEMBER”

    1. Thanks Lauren! It’s so nice to see your avatar popping on my notifications! The weekend was good actually, as you suggested! Thanks! How are things with you?

    2. And now another weekend is almost here, which is nice…life is good, without going into great detail here! πŸ™‚ My book will finally be out later this month, which is the big excitement for me and my family right now! Anyway, wishing you a lovely day and keep writing! I may be slow in getting over here, but I won’t miss your amazing talent! xx πŸ™‚

  1. “Serene”

    Too serene is the night
    Of the moon and the stars
    But to die in the lights
    Of the streets and the cars.

    How sad, the beauty of nature buried in the noise of city life! I like both though. It’s just that we can’t have both at the same time.

    So, you are an owl.

    I can feel your loneliness in fighting for something that probably no one will ever understand. I am sort of happy for you to have known someone to whom you want to belong, whoever that is. That person could be fictional, for most poets and singers are like that.

    Technically, I like the fact that certain semantic contrasts are employed throughout the poem to reflect your struggles, which produce the effect of resonance as we read through the lines, such as “the memory that never happened,” being “under your spell, without you knowing,” to “find you in the crowd of strangers,” and having “played my life as fair as I could these years, but nothing came close to wanting
    to belong to you so much,” where the end points out the reason why the previous semantic contrasts are used, which lead to this conclusion.

    I am addicted to the technicality of poetry, so I hope to see more of your works coming out at this blog.

    1. Where do I start replying to this! Well, thank you for taking time and leaving such a long and in-depth comment. I’m always thankful to people that “waste” their time giving me feedback on my poems. For that I’m going to say a big thank you to you.
      More works are to come and I’m looking forward roaming through your blog in return.

    2. Well, I copied the poem from my blog, so it took no time. My feedback is no more than a filter through your poem to make a point. I forgot to eliminate a line break after “close to wanting,” for example. It took no time, either. However, it did take me a bit of time reading through your poem to relive your experience, which somehow felt very real. Well, I can’t tell if it’s fictional or not, almost. So, that’s that.

      I actually like it naked with your poetry, that is, without any syntactic technicality. It’s more real and natural with you. You seem to have a lot to say each and every day. It could be too suffocating for you to write sonnets. Content matters.

  2. in the darkness of the night
    beneath a duvet all of white
    our hands recited sonnets on our skin

    our faces can’t be seen
    whispering words we’ll never mean
    I ask if I will see you once again

    we know that come the dawn
    I”ll arise to find you gone
    wondering of the power of our dreams

    1. The sensation, when the butterfly of the night disappears in the morning, must be similar to the evaporating dreams as soon as the sunshine hits corners of the window.

      Such a beautiful response, my dear. Thank you.

  3. You have cut right down to the essence of such a complex and powerful emotion in such an effortless way that your words transcend time and space; they flow off the screen pouring deep inside the soul where they are not just understood but felt in a way that is beyond comprehension. You are truly an artist, unmatched by few and surpassed by none!

  4. even fighting alone in a “crowd of strangers,” you discover how to praise, as any real and very fine poet must. achingly beautiful. x tony

    1. Thank you. As a poet, i often struggle, so im glad at these moments, when i see my message has been received the way i wanted πŸ™‚
      You are ever so kind, Tony x

    1. As well you should Miss Owl. This life is too hard already without complicting it with empty words and false affection.

  5. Wow! Raw! Loved the entire depicted outpouring specially these lines –
    “I want to find you
    in the crowd of strangers,
    at the station,
    and fall to the ground
    like a descending autumn colour,
    to ask for your forgiveness
    once again.”

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