@ommoimori Instagram

new poetry

and old


I Dreamt

the room was cooling

from the embers beneath

you were here,

so tall and bending

like the grasses

of the plains

I have visited

since I was small

where I sat

in the arms of trees

while the gold of my mother’s hair

reflected the golden wheat around us

you stood

and I felt you near

holding on

as if we were dissapearing

fingers grasping collar bones

begging, don’t go

desperate embrace

sweet lover

red like the moon

we have known


There are sounds

that absorb

and give haunting comfort

hardly known

it appears

we lay on our mother’s chest

Without thought

sensing  the silent

what is joy?

does it tear

and strangle

our fibers?

We are left exhausted

and broken


what is joy?

our children

they are drowning

in this vast nothing

that pulls them to ask the trivial

and pass the fearful

the drilling thought

what is joy?

No more pain, no more violence


this emptiness

is draining

with hearts intertwined 



is falling

Like sand and dust

through sewage grates

so burdened

our words unfold,

and blossom before their time


and harsh

Every night

the soul in our finger

grows dim

as our whole

is waining

to be awake is to suffer

but to sleep is to condone


to hold pith

and weep is to have

the unthought

and elusive thing

we question.

what is joy?