Memories
remain after our death
through the ones that knew us
that is how we continue to be
from memories through memories
once a beggar
knocked at my door
he used to show up in front of the people
not to beg for money
he was begging for a memory
it is strange to mention now
the memory beggar
might he even
remember me
the night suddenly aged
on this strange night
the flame fades in the fireplace
and trembled like a frightened heart
among the greenwood thrown into the fire
the smoke reaches the edge of the forest
the trees raise their branches to the sky
like the hair on the backs of wolves
the unnatural howl
put out the fire in the houses
it stirs people's imagination
they want to crack the moon in two
shooting with rifles at the sky
to drive away those altered memories
who were transformed into nightmares
About the Creator
Mihai Brinas
Mihai is the author of five collections of poems. Invitation to Poetry, Alignment of Thoughts, Crossroads, Thoughts That Bring Us Closer, and Connections.
Mihai keeps on writing while still believing in the power of honesty and love.
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Spectating
I can't imagine dying like this, in a place like this; on a cold, dirty pavement with rush hour traffic screaming by and a crowd looking on while paramedics struggle to find space to move. Who could? Deep down we all think there should be a reason, a moment of clarity... or a family presence, at least. For this man, this boy, the rail thin woman lighting a cigarette in a faux fur jacket will have to do - she's been here since the start, her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders as we fight to keep him on the right side of the line.
By S. A. Crawford5 days ago in Fiction
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