Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611

  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
Endless poetry book... For her

Endless poetry book... For her

Arcadich, Adrian D.

Paperback

General Poetry

ISBN13: 9798849023373
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: Aug 29 2022
Pages: 142
Weight: 0.44
Height: 0.30 Width: 6.00 Depth: 9.00
Language: English
Embrace words as if nothing else existed in the world, as if they were a powerful lifesaver, and they made me float just by looking at them.

LOVE to LOVE wildly and always in capital letters. Swing me in every line I distill, as if the poem could make me feel drunk with the passing of the hours. Because yes, it succeeds... I live dizzy and imprisoned in a shipwreck of unfair waves that prevent me from reaching a safe port.

And I can't stop...

When a storm arrives, just before inhaling its perfume or seeing it approaching on the horizon, I prepare my pen and let myself flow; I allow the winds of the muses to drag me through an ocean of disordered letters. And right there, I faint on the blank sheet of paper and open my heart in a channel so that it can be pierced by the ocean currents that contain all the meanings.

Sometimes I tend my nets waiting for a good pick-up, but the right letters don't always come to me. They are not always there to give me what I crave. Every day I try in the hope of gathering hundreds of them to compose you; I throw my nets into the sea with a confident and serene look, which I know will allow me to close each chapter of this story one day.

Afterward, I wait calmly, letting the treacherous time pass without making fun of me... Because I feel that everything is possible and that what is devoutly awaited, sooner or later, comes.

A dream achieved after so many shakes is glimpsed instantly. Now yes, I was able to gather them in the same work. I was able to stop to breathe a little air between so much water and, contradictorily, so little oxygen.

I was finally able to let go of my feather to float lightly on the waves without putting up any resistance. My efforts have finally materialized, and now you hold the example in your hands. And read you, read you every verse of this melody that, as if it were an endless prayer, came to my lips again and again after each devastating storm.

Perhaps that is the only function of a poet, and no other: to exist to love and swim and to weave words with emotions, embroider letter with a letter, create a complete universe only to be able to describe it and make ethereal and intensely verbal fabrics... For what? To hoist the sails, sail... and drop into the open sea until the ocean submerges you and throws you back to another shore...

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