Guilty Secrets (English )

[Cupke_pe_Korce]

children have no guilty secrets. he is one of them.

[Rebele]

Secrets are not guilty. It's the secret-keeper that may feel this way.
How ironic! And by the way, do things that happen ironically, happen through ironing?
I iron my secrets. It makes me grow fond of them.

[Cupke_pe_Korce]

Can you iron a sphinx? I don't know!
Secrets are weapons (which I only fire when my life is threatened)

[BvizioN]

Secrets are not guilty. It's the secret-keeper that may feel this way..

Knock knock! Who's there? It's the critics :-))

Thanks for bringing it to my attention ! If you use the ordinary language, then the secrets wont have any colour either!
Anyway...are you trying to say that Gulity secrets makes no sense !Because you could be wronge ! Its the same way as i say Love secrets and then you say 'And by the way...secrets are not love! It's the lover that may feel this way.

children have no guilty secrets. he is one of them...

Cupke_pe_Korce !! Im not fallowing you! What exactly are you saying?

Right ! Guilty secrets happened to be the title of my first poem! I dont know why you feel that it's so much to talk about it!!!

Please do me a favor ! Try to be short on your critics and live more space for poems.

Thank you

[BvizioN]

*********************************** B Ndoji

Happiness is that you always have been looking for
Pain and grief is what you always get
The hasty relationship is blooming on the wrong time
Fear is your self under the threat
The real love doesn’t cost any money
Money is the only thing you never cast way
Money is the beginning and the end of any trouble
Money is the name of the game that you always play
World is your temporary little home
With open doors, windows and roof
Dream is the freedom of your mind
Freedom is your self with invisible handcuffs
Desire is a little flower waiting to grow up
Longing is yourself living in the fire
Hope is little flame wavering on the wind
Passion is a link between dream and desire
Music is the sweetest and harmless drug you can ever have
Time is a little ship navigating with no course
Life is a movie show on the cinema, Sunday evening
Death is moving home for a better place, or worse.

[BvizioN]

**************************** B Ndoji

There are no horsemans now
Running into portcullis, out of portcullis
No more ancient soldiers there
Over the battlements of towers
The erosive time tried to wash way the legend
But I still can hear
The mysterious whisper of masters
Mixed with the sound of their chisels, shaping the stones
Before they put her alive on the groundwork of walls
And then
For thousands of years, after
The sound of swords fighting the enemy
It was a gloomy time

Last time I was there
As I walked on the passage among the walls
I thought I heard the echo of her voice
Crashing on the silence of towers
Last time I was there
I thought I heard her singing a lullaby to her son
Before she walked on the way to the castle
With a white dress for the last time
She didn’t turn back, never
She gived her name and her life to make the castle stronger
Being the must glorious mum in the world
Living inside the walls
In immortality forever

The twilight there is a miracle
And afterwards the castle start talking to the moon
Perhaps you can hear the night birds whispering
The legend
About the name of castle beside the river of Bune

There are no horsemans now
Running in to portcullis, out of portcullis
But there are always white angels
Flying from the castle of Rozafat
To the city of Shkodra
Continuously
And all over the land of Eagles
On the horizonts
limitlessly