Synonyms Of Love
To know does not
mean to understand.
To understand
does not mean to agree.
To agree does
not mean to accept,
even though
these are supposedly synonyms.
To agree, to
give consent, to give approval,
at the same time
to sanction, nods, tolerate,
to give someone
a free hand.
Only then can we
talk about love,
to death, to the
grave?
Is it just love
for the sake of poetry
because he is an
emotional masochist?
I leave the gate
open for anyone to come in.
Just a request,
do not trample
the well-tended flowerbeds,
don't pick the
flowers,
they smell so
lovely.
Like A Dog
I am always
near,
like a dog that
loves its owner.
Whatever the
weather, day or night,
I'm beside you,
I don't give you a break.
You have a companion
in me forever.
No matter where
you are, what you are doing,
I am with you,
like a shadow by your leg.
In front of the
door and outside the window,
I am there and
that’s it.
I Am Walking Down The Night Street
I am walking
down a night street, distinguished.
I admire the
mystically flashing moon.
And I ask the
question
Who lights the
stars?
All around
quiet,
as quiet as in a
dream,
yet in reality.
I walk alone
like a night watchman.
worn pavements
and stones underfoot.
Silent stories,
written in space.
Trees passing
by, sighing.
Branches, with a
whisper of leaves, touch the sky.
In paving slabs
echoes of the
past and stories of people are heard,
who used to walk
here.
The footsteps
have long since quietened, but they still speak,
hinting that
each one is unique.
My thoughts
drift like fog in the night.
I stare at the
windows,
where the sleepy
light
hides the
stories of family life.
Another mystery
awaits around the corner.
Street, city
guide,
leads from one
dark lantern to another.
Stared at the
stars,
I am looking for
beauty and moments without worries,
and light is
born at the moment
when the stars
fall asleep.
PIOTR KOCJAN
PIOTR KOCJAN - Born 1952. He has
always been connected with Silesia and Zaglebie, specifically with Niwka. He
has occasionally lived in other places, such as Münster in Germany. Poetry drew
him in with its tentacles, back in the last century, probably in the second
grade of the E. Plater secondary school in Sosnowiec. He wrote his first poems on a napkin in the
Kolorowa Café. Then he studied, wrote some songs and cabaret lyrics. Fifteen
years ago, he opened a drawer and that's how it stayed. He published 2 volumes
of poems: ‘Rymowanki dla Danki i przyjaciół’ and ‘Wy-grzebki’. His poems have
appeared in many poetry anthologies and several have been displayed on the
façade of a tenement house at 1 Bracka Str. in Cracow. Sometimes, he signs his
poems as Jan Koc or Najcok. A volume he has been working on for two years - ‘Z
Tobą w tle’ is awaiting publication.
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