Back Then, and Now
The kettle sang louder in those days,
steam moved like it had weight.
Light hung around longer.
It all passes now, and I let it.
Mornings arrive like they always should.
Unbothered, nothing aching in the corners.
I pour the same tea.
It tastes like itself.
The silence isn’t louder, rather, honest.
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El Bzaz
I write poetry in my spare time, usually when something clicks or catches my attention. Just whatever feels worth putting into words.
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Personal reflection on time passing, grounded in concrete domestic moments.
Sparse ideas distributed meditative; one observation per line or phrase.
Melancholic acceptance with quiet peace; resignation transformed into contentment.
Quiet, still, contemplative voice; minimal kinetic intensity throughout.
Nine lines; falls in 7-15 line range.
Moderate ornamentation: personification of kettle/steam/morning, some metaphorical weight.
Pure lyric internal voice; intimate first-person reflection.
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