The Eye of a Typer

A colorless, eye-shaped smoke in the sky is my eyes,
That, instead of seeing, creates new skies,
New ground, and on it a new population.

None can be sure about my subjective realisation,
But what I see is more like a simplification
Of a horribly bad-mad world.

I myself am not sure how the colours are whirled;
The colours of dream- and undream-world
As clothes in a washing machine.

Myself is supposed to whirl inside that machine,
Among the instinctive desires and unclean,
Inherited demands.

While my true existence that no one understands
Is beyond those dark-coloured commands,
Just dwelling for observation.

Benyamin Bensalah

01.06.2019

7 thoughts on “The Eye of a Typer

      1. Thank you for your encouragement. It really means a lot. (The fact is, I really don’t like giving too much efforts for things because of a possible failure.)

        Anyway, here is your command! :3

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Suggestion start with a friend or two who are interested in your poetry to practice reading your poems. When I write a poem I often speak the words out loud as part of the editing. This improves my editing. I hear the rhythm tone and meter. Great aid to writing. Poems speak. They have a great power to move people when heard. Listen to yours out loud. I have even made recordings to see how I sound reading. Best wishes. Be brave.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Thank you for the advice. It will serve me more or less. ☺️🌹

        It feels good to read out poems indeed, it gives you better inspiration for next time; however, it is quite obvious that we hear rhythm without reading it (just like the deaf Mozart).

        Liked by 1 person

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