mercredi 5 août 2009

Arata

Walking through the street
he looks at everyone
for so his eye can meet
the special one.

With a camera in his hand
in such a camaraderie
he comes with no friend
alone and free.




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2 commentaires:

Arata a dit…

Ohhh I am here!!! Its so strange to see myself through your eyes and mind to see me...with no friend alone and free! haha, it's a bit sad isn't it? but it's ok. thanks for the beautiful poem!:)

MARCUS VINICIUS TAVARES DA SILVA a dit…

Rafael is out, out of the world, out of himself, out of everybody. Poetry doesn't mean anything to me when it loses its heart. To be proud of letters, of blogs, of nothing, while all his family is suffering the pain of his death? Why did he die? What for? Probably to hurt the people who more loved him in his short life...

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