Created World

And the clock my heart
    You've found the heart hours
    I don't have the heart
    I found a poem's heart

    Starting a new day in uniform
    The wounds that started
    In a new day
    Our endless uniform tomorrows

    If the clocks are cloudy
    Our days are many
    The cello came from all over.

    A blind window
    A helpless door
    What the days bring

    The heart of the blind
    When Rokoko is buried in the bottom of the watch
    Days of snowy and short in the East
    Uniformity when it snows
    One flat in the days
    There's uniform everywhere.
    Hours, no heart, no poetry, no

    I cut off my wrists
    I need to write poetry from my blood
    I must wake up from hibernation.
    The world in the world
    The body of the body.

    In your sleepless womb
    The nerves in my brain
    I can't solve a one

    There is a poem
    From my blood to my soul
    Pens for forests
    The world of pens
    My wounds wrap up the thesis
    Honey, honey and blood

    23.January 1982
    January 15,2019

by Bulent Karaalioglu

Comments (16)

Thank you for your comment and your appreciation
A great poem, conceived thoughtfully as also thought provoking. Congrats on poem of the Day.
'If the clocks are cloudy Our days are many' - so nicely said! Congratulations on your poem's selection as the 'Member Poem of the Day'!
Grade this poem in the A’s thank you for a great poem.
I cut off my wrists I need to write poetry from my blood I must wake up from hibernation. The world in the world The body of the body. a great poem indeed. tony
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