The Real
Kids playing in the yard.
Mother smiling and calling up for dinner
Wagging tail of a dog,
who wants to go for a walk
again.
Words of poet, that cut the very fibre of reality
gently
but thoroughly.
Orgasmic convulsion of a Woman,
but only if she is real..
Not a photo, of a photo of photo,
of an idea,
of something that you heard you ought to like.
Fresh smell of Burek
on the streets of Sarajevo,
and the Eternal fire;
that has always been there.
Even before
they lit it up.
It burned the hearts and souls of the people;
and that my friend
is NOT a metaphor.
The still wet green grass of Ireland,
on a cliff somewhere
without a name.
That could spell like "eternity".
The taverns where the fiddle is still played,
and people, despite the drink,
are still real.
The volcanic rock
on, in and OF the Land of Ice and Fire,
and the Elves, watching from behind.
The smile of Sun Summoner
and the crazy, winded story
I call my life.
These are some of my favourite things.
What are yours?