Smoky




What I felt when I saw this picture, was a mix of happy and sad feelings. The little boy looks like he’s about to fly away. There is something very glorious about that. The trees in the background play a special role in my poem. The boy looks like he’s almost about to ‘hug’ the trees. But he can’t because there’s some kind of barrier between them. And I feel like he would dó anything, he would gíve anything, to be there with them.

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The old oak trees

Deep down I feel, like I've left my peace,
far behind, by the old oak trees.
Making no effort to survive,
am I even willing to stay alive?

Hearing twisted phrases, of pleassure and delight,
feeling both homesick, and walloping fright.
Dare to be diffrent, walk in circles or squares,
but why make an effort, if there is no one who cares?

I did everything I was supposed to do,
I flew away, I fought my way through,
that closing gate, let me die in peace,
I’m finally home, by the old oak trees.

--

For what it's worth, I think it's pretty diffrent from all the other poems I've written before. It's much more darker in a way, but glorious at the same time. I'm happy with it.


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