some days I can’t write poetry:
streets are only utilitarian grey concrete.
flowers are only pollinated plant genitals.
the world I’m in is correct and mundane.
some days I can’t write poetry:
days that exist to be stoically endured,
not due to overbearing pain or sadness,
but for a small sum of smaller regrets.
some days I can’t write poetry:
metaphors that are too convoluted;
alliterations that are a cacophony;
hyperboles that are too underwhelming.
some days I can’t be a poet,
but in others I have the privilege to try.
some days I can’t write poetry,
but I’m lucky that (even if barely) I’m alive.
Tiago Duarte Dias is originally from Rio de Janeiro, and currently lives in Malmö, Sweden. He has published poems and short stories in English at TERSE.Journal, Dyst, Empyrean Literary Magazine, in Swedish at Upplitt Magasin and the other side of hope, and in Portuguese at Litteris7. Besides, he is the creator of a music project called Warmest Winter (http://warmestwinter.bandcamp.com), has a doctoral degree in Anthropology and has recently become a father.
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