by Marcin Malek
I'll never be a king of the brave
The vain poet - I lied, forgive me if you care
I went calmly through all the stages of madness
The last it's the tongue on a stranger face
And believe that man can turn in to a bird
To look at people and things
Without the need of rising the gaze
What a disruptive and ugly input
- Acquired romanticism
To have eyes placed on occiput
And after all, to see against the stiff neck
How veils of the wild cranes are waving
Across the sunset fires and dense shades
I'll never be a king of the brave
Timorous rhymer - I laughed, who cares
That I went through all the stages of foolishness
The last it's the thought that anyone chased
Man, dog or a worm
Will find an asylum
Somewhere in between the strophes
- Share this Poem:
ABOUT THE POET ~
Marcin Malek (born February 24, 1975) in Warsaw, Poland) is a Polish/Irish poet, writer, playwright, journalist, photographer. Published in: „Fronda”, „Tygiel Kultury”, „Akcent”, „Nowe Państwo”, „Stosunki Międzynarodowe”, „Opcja na prawo”, Leinster Express, Winner of the annual award of "Poetry&Paratheatre" journal (category: poem of the Year) for year 2012, (work: „Bieg – Czyli list do współczesnych”/"Run - a letter to the present"). Since 2006 lives in Ireland.
Last updated November 14, 2013