At the recent meeting with the German chancellor, dumb Donny Trump didn't know what D-Day was and is. Perhaps someone will inform him about history outside the USA, especially if the USA once played a decisive role in the victory over Nazi Germany.

One day past eighty years, the beaches breathe The grit of those who stormed the world awake. Steel met the tide; beneath the cliff and heat...

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It is through events and at gatherings

That the meaning of time is understood.

As we pack together in a huddle,

Time passes us by and yet it connects

And joins us as one, like links in a chain,

When we combine, as indistinct as rain.

 

Sixty years ago, I was in a crowd,

Some of whom were there sixty years before;

This summer I see some with years ahead.

This cycle con...

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This poem, Farewell to the Presence, draws clear inspiration from one of Sir Walter Raleigh’s poems. Echoing Raleigh’s elegiac tone and careful rhythm, it tries to explore the quiet desolation of personal loss and abandonment in contemporary life. Instead of the grandeur of a royal court or the isolation of the sea, the poem dwells on the intimate emptiness left behind in familiar space...

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Eighty years ago, Buchenwald concentration camp was liberated, revealing the horrific suffering endured by thousands of victims. Under brutal Nazi rule, countless lives were lost to violence, starvation, and forced labor. The liberation marked both an end to this chapter of terror and a solemn reminder of the depths of human cruelty. 

Eighty springs have bloomed and gone, Since gates wer...

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They call it strange—this habit of speaking aloud, to oneself, thinking alone, and questioning everything. But science has spoken: those who talk to themselves sharpen their minds, embrace chaos, and thrive on challenge. This poem is a tribute to the self-speakers, the deep thinkers, the quiet geniuses who refuse to silence their brilliance.
 

They point, they whisper, they call it absurd—
Ye...

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Even if it’s me
The cause and effect
Of this love that burns endlessly
And in the end, dissolves within me

Even if it’s me
The shadow that waits for you
In the randomness of late hours
On empty streets where memory falls

It doesn’t matter what they say
Or what they think of us
What is love if not the pain
That inhabits what makes us alone?

Even if it’s me
The one who gets lost,
...

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Life is solid, made of earth and stone,
of roots that sink deep into the silence of the soil.
Each step, an echo in the field of time,
each breath, a reminder that we are (in)finite.
There is strength in the winds we cannot see
and in the falling leaves that fear not the winter.
Love is not fleeting, but like the rock,
firm, built in the fissures of being.
And when the sky closes,
when th...

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Like the first mirror reflects whats before it
I live in the past 
Anchored by my commitments
I failed to take that class

The angle of time constricts at a point
Silent in its steps despite how vast
Ranging millenia little by little 
The promise is a lie you can not outlast 

Through the scope I inspect my thought 
Regret is not the word because I have made peace
Feel the grip of anxi...

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