This piece is part of Margins of the First Draft—a collection of very old poems. This was one of the first poems I ever wrote and published. Considering how young I was when I started writing, this one feels especially strange, because at that age, I knew very little about love.
His Eyes
His eyes
If that was not poetry
Written in two words
I. Don’t. Do. Poetry
Poetry on the Margins #4 First memory
Do you remember your very first love?
Or an instance of meeting someone for the very first time?
Or meeting a pair of eyes as such,
depicted in this poem?
I wonder if a poem
could carry the whole essence of a person —
like their eyes do.
I remember my mother telling me
that the eyes are the windows to the soul.
No wonder every man in my life
had had a fabulous pair.
There's more of my work:
All of the six-sentence stories.
The Nervous Poet Entries for the SSC&B.
There is also a page for all of the poetry.
More personal entries can be found at the Blog.
The IT studies blog in Estonian for a course at the university.
the Band "Chaos in Spring" is on YouTube, Spotify and other streaming services.
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