A jar of wondersA cup of trinketsA dash of splendor,Shut in a casket... She was a collector.Day and night she graspedAt threads of colourShades of magic. Apt To see, prone to marvellingBut never letting go.A collector I said, and so,Drunk on having Possessing, amassing,Words and flowers. Flowers she sapped of fireWords she emptied of meaning She … Continue reading Chasing Wonders
"For me, the aim of poetry is to capture the true essence of things. But Truth is difficult to catch, understand and explain. Truth is hard to embrace in one sweep. So one must go tangentially, and turn around with a laser beam. One must shed light on each side of Truth like this, with words. And little by little, from this literary exploration, an approximation of Truth emerges. That's what poetry does."
Kemy's bookshelf 