Often, after the last rain –
my sombre heart
howls for love.
To break the fetters,
of this sad rage.
With wings weathered
by English storms –
I push the sky away.
Outside, waiting
for me – is no other
than an island sea.
The rainy season
A Wandering Poet
As I walk around I like to record what I experience. Through poetry, ideas and thoughts I hope I can share some of these experiences with you.
A Wandering Poet 