#48

Ricardo Fernandez Ortega

 

 

 

A flower is not a flower.

It is an illusion floating toward the mirror,

flooding my astigmatic eyes with hyper-surrealism

as my timid mind travels in hope

to the unreachable shelves of my hours.

 

It has been silent for a long time

and I can only listen to the murmur

of my poems on the screen as if

they were trying to save me from

my immortal insignificance

every single day.

 

But they are tired of my blindness,

my complexes and paradoxes.

They know my poetic mind won’t

resist much longer the tasteless duty

of being a poetess, a poet, whatever.

 

Poetry will never make the evening news.

 

A flower is not a flower,

a poem is not a poem

and I am neither a poet nor a poetess.

 

 

Karla Bardanza

 

 

 

 

Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2012