Tag Archives: reflection

The Last Song

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When the last song is sung, nothing is denied—not love, not guilt, not longing.

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Come let us sit by this brightly burning fire;

let us forget all and everything, the good and the dire

Let the high flames defrost our frozen souls,

all the cold voids within and all the black holes

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Come let us search for and grab our broken violins;

let us sing songs, and remember and repent our sins

Let the warmth of our company mend our broken hearts,

all the joys and regrets - together and in parts

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Come let us lament, the fading memory of old love;

let us caress our nostalgia - the delicate, grey dove

Let the stories we tell mark our long and sad past,

let them cherish our tears, which dried up so fast

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Come let us remember innocence, which was lost forever;

let us applaud corruption, the seduction was so very clever

Let us rethink all our deeds, so lofty and so dark,

let us not pass a harsh judgment, with a red mark

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Come let us sit by this brightly burning fire;

let us blow it anew, the flames loftier and higher

Let us say farewell to everything, ambition, and desire;

warmly welcoming the end, the savior, and the pyre

A Dialogue with the Mirror

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‘You wretched beast, you pitiful ghoul’ —the cruelest conversations are the ones we have with ourselves.

An intense, confrontational poem structured as a dialogue between the speaker and their mirror reflection, exploring the painful disconnect between outward appearance and inner reality. Through powerful metaphors of shattered mirrors, extinguished suns, and lightning-struck trees, this raw verse examines the masks we wear and the darkness we hide.

You! Yes you – you wretched beast!

perhaps you are me or just another priest

Trying to creep and trying to crawl,

within my sad existence, a great, dark hall

Trying to wear and trying to see,

my skin, through eyes silent as the dead sea

You! Yes you, you pitiful ghoul!

perhaps you are wise or just an old fool

Don’t try to understand my twisted life,

a tree struck by lightning, yet playing the fife 

I stand strong and mighty, towering over all,

strength is what I feign, in the end I will fall  

You! Yes you, you pathetic creature!

perhaps you are true or just a damn preacher

Don’t try to love my tired and broken soul,

I look like a knight and inside, I am just a troll

I am but a mirror, shattered into a million shards,

keeping you all blind, I always hide my cards

You! Yes you, you faded, grey wraith!

perhaps you are ignorant or just acting on faith

Don’t try to be kind, with empathy on a roll,

a sun with extinguished fires, I am a lost soul

My sins were all black, they spoke of my desires,

my regret is now cold, just ashes and burnt pyres

Anger & Silence

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Introduction

A contemplative poem featuring an old monk under an oak tree who explores the profound relationship between anger and silence through a series of striking metaphors. This meditative verse contrasts the destructive chaos of anger with the transformative power of silence, presenting them as mother and child, thunder and rain, sword and force. The poem delves into Buddhist philosophy and mindfulness teachings, examining how anger represents momentary experience while silence embodies lasting wisdom.

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Under a Banyan tree, an old monk sat,

his life - cool shade and a bamboo mat

Eyes were closed, and his heart so still,

oblivious to pain and sharp n’ harsh chill

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‘Anger is the wind,’ he muttered to himself,

‘whispering in the trees, calming down itself

Anger is the mother, and silence is the child,

a fiery dragon and her offspring, so mild’

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‘Anger is scalding chaos, silence brings order,

chaos and order - there is only a vague border

Anger is the thunder, silence is the rain,

anger is so loud while silence stills the pain’

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‘Anger is a sword, while silence is a force,

violence and the power, the ego is the source

Anger is a hammer, while silence is patience,

anger is so bold, while silence brings complacence’

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‘Anger is a curse, while silence is a blessing,

what is true and what is not, there is no harm confessing

Anger is a burden, while silence is a treasure,

shedding and protecting, both beyond measure’

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‘Anger is experience, silence is the wisdom,

anger is a moment, while silence is a kingdom

Anger lights the blaze, silence is the smoke,

knowing is the product, wrapped in a cloak’

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‘Your time has ended, now leave me all alone!’

the monk addresses anger and marks it in the stone

‘Silence has begun - its reign feels so cold,

along comes the knowledge - so cruel and so bold’

Nostalgia: Scratching the Healing Sores

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autumn_nostalgia_by_kotenko

What if nostalgia isn’t healing—but a wound we keep reopening?

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I am addicted to the pain, the sweet throbbing pain

I am fond of the pleasure, the long steady rain

I am addicted to nostalgia, which comes at my leisure,

the memories and regrets, my great and humble treasure

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I am addicted to scratching my old healing sores

I am fond of the pain, it lives in all my pores

I scratch them and peel them, the dry, brittle crust

I nick them and skin them, the gold-brown rust

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I am addicted to scrubbing the old, clouded mirror

I am fond of reflecting, my past growing clearer

I see them and smell them, the sepias and the musk

I recall it all vividly, the dawn and the dusk

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I am addicted to being lured in by its deadly charm

I am fond of its false promises, all sincerity, and no harm

I see it as the raindrops caught in a great spider’s web,

seducing me, entrancing me, the dance and the ebb

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I am addicted to all the waves, the ups, and the downs

I am fond of the onslaught, the smells, and the sounds

I perceive it as a storm, all chaos and destruction,

my mind is the stage, it’s a theatrical production

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I am addicted to my past, a slowly burning pyre

I am fond of my journey on the path of desire

I am addicted to nostalgia, my friend, till my death,

I am fond of its company, till my very last breath