• raika_ 21w

    #madnessc #windc #recipe Been months.

    (very sad right now cause my feed is partially grey �� please let the old backgrounds stay ����)

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    Stirring poetry in a pot

    Wash the pot, before you begin;
    wash off all the remnants
    of the dinner from last night
    and of the memories of Eighteen moons

    Add three cups of water,
    and with each, a drop of agony.
    a bunch of dandelion seeds
    you caught in the wind,
    oh! the stories they carry

    Stick with your heart
    and with your madness
    and see where it takes you
    cause questions and
    uncertainties may lead you
    to sunsets and seashores
    where you'll find
    the the special ingredient-
    a spice of your own,
    hidden between
    the infinite hues of the sky
    or in the shells, the wave brings
    from unknown depths
    which will make you hold your breath

    Add a pinch of your home
    and another of all the roads
    that stretch through the globe
    on a journey of the soul

    Stir the pot on light flame,
    and remember!
    Don't listen to the call of the void
    because if you let Mr.void
    walk into your home
    and stir the pot

    all your poems will be incomplete
    and words will never be enough
    to cook poetries anymore

    You'll end up running from store to store
    looking for a way to end it all
    but the missing pieces
    will somehow never be found
    and the hollowness in the verses
    will give it a new taste
    not sweet nor sour
    but something peculiar and strange

    Until you abandon
    the pot
    and the home
    and yourself
    and run away
    into the forests
    where darkness is the only thing
    that prevails

    But hey, poet
    don't lose all hope
    for on a cold night in November
    when you make a campfire
    and shed off some distress
    words will find their way back to you
    and you'll write yourself a poem
    about lost souls and fallen stars
    and you'll learn

    Cooking poetry is a delicate art
    something so precious yet so dangerous
    that it'll leave you
    vulnerable and in harmony
    at the same time

    //of the poems that won't let me sleep
    and of songs that sing me to peace

    - raika // not much of a cook or a poet/ a wanderer