Routine is a boring soup to sip everyday.
Commuting is repetition at its least creative level.
Work is often a bland combination of tiny tasks with no end view.
Time slips and it hardly leaves a sweet taste.
Science sprinkles its salt
Luckily.
When truth is born
Her heart jumped with all its energy
And her brain took a deep breath
When the results assembled in the graph
And her idea became true.
A reality nobody had thought of.
Her mind generated truth.
Her hands rushed to wrote it down.
That night sheer could not sleep.
Thin sheets of written paper
A scientist has always a voice
She spotted and explains
The phenomena each day.
Others get surprised and fascinated
And with their questions like children .
The scientists digs and reiterates questions
Until it all sums up
To an objective reality
Like an explorer with a brown hat
Staying a child at heart
Forever.
What does protein really mean? A protein acronym
A word game coming from a mental exploration of the word “protein”.
Nature nurture
My normal clothes embrace me,
A scientist in disguise,
And reminds me of the holidays.
Shorts and sleeveless
from the forbidden wardrobe
Give me a brave allure.
Role expectation
I split the cake personally
And the authority surprises
The old minded seniors.
I take charge and put my stamp
On situations of clichés and prejudice.
Horizon mark
A thin line defines the border
At the end of the hills
and before the blue.
Green and yellow
mark a new season that is arriving
And drives me to wonder
What is next.
Owl determination
The owl turns its head
And searches for a better company
In the spontaneous thick foliage
Of the park.
Its feet are still and solid,
They know the here contain a spot of love
And do not want to leave.
Sun shower
Linear and powerful rays
That hit me and energize me,
Fall like rain today!
I will not reject you
With dark umbrellas over my head
My store your input
inside my shy skin.
Bright spots
The city at night
Is revealed by its spots
Delineating where the feet and the hearts
Go and hide.
Everything seems far
And secluded in itself,
Concentrating the energies left today
For tomorrow.
Black windows
The house has black windows
When i pas by worth my heavy bag
And good-intentioned heart.
The day is ending
Yet I save the pleasure for the last hours
Of solitude and determination.
Walking alone in the night,
Watching a movie in silence,
And tomorrow I will smile
in and out.
Starry pray
Skinny stars of this night
I see you hiding in the far
But curious of our troubles.
Slowly you move
And it can only watch from this wet field
And discover my pray
For this peaceful situation
To settle
And return.
Sofa night
The evening is salty
And covered by shy stars
While I sip this tea
Of fantasy and night wishes.
Warm hands connect me
And reassure me
With the radiant energy I absorb.
Jumping heart
I ride my life
Like a motocross bike
Fast on the up and down.
My thoughts and hands are protected
By modern materials
And my sighs are amplified
By the adrenalin
At each jump.
Weight loss
I have removed you
Grin your crystal pedestal,
Stupid thought of the perfect body weight.
I freed space and feel lighter,
Feelings of acceptance stepped in
And a realistic daily plan.
Nature spin
The push to that leaf on the pavement
Was invisible,
Yet it rotated and stopped dry
When i passed.
Nature surrounds me
And its energy must touch me.
I spin and spin each day
From home to work,
To shops, to strangers,
Faithful to nature.
Yellow bench
Yellow and empty,
The bench stares at the sun alone.
It waits nonstop for a purpose
And yet it is playing its role.
Train travel
On the silent train,
I space-travel and time-travel
With no effort.
The welcoming feeling of home
is left behind in a step
And ne realities kick in
Unlimited.
Work email
Three tiny suspension points
Keep me hanging from a finger
From my desk.
The text was succint
and the short sentence closed
By a point
But i cannot find the real meaning
That those carefully chosen words
Hide.
Pension hunt
I cannot imagine myself
In thirty years
When i will have done my job
And pension will knock.
I hardly now envision what job
will require thirty years
And my will.
Desk mirror
Even this tiny mirror
Can entrap my pride
When choosing what to do
And, this way, be.
Like milestones on the long road,
It will return me the truth
Regularly and unasked.
After work
My arms are crossed
And my thoughts far away
When the bell rings.
The day is over
Or does it start?
I head home and fill the last hours
With tenderness and personality
Until the sleep comes
And my heart holds a list
With minute-long experiences and small memories.
Repetiton-free
Consistency and authenticity
Border the road
Where I roam apparently free.
Direction is forward
On the long term,
But today i will go sideway
And free myself
From the restrain of the map
Of a well accepted career.
Workaholic
I often deny the beauty
Of the world passing by
And neglect the true source
Of a life to remember.
Springing water can clean my avidity
With its transparent and youth
And I will make sure I will get surprised
Each time.
Ant work
I love the words holding hands
And the sun hitting my keys
When nothing seems to happen
In a world of mistrust
Those Black ants start working
And scribble the life that could be.
Office renovation
Silver and pink will make my office
Mine.
The sensitivity and hardness of metals
Will match the comfort of my feminine side
And lead the science and the people.
The domestic poetry of proteins
Will join the practically and instability of research.
Repetition-free
Consistency and authenticity
Border the road
Where I roam apparently free.
Direction is forward
On the long term,
But today i will go sideway
And free myself
From the restrain of the map
Of a well accepted career.
Plant pride
My stomach is proudly full
Of minerals and proteins
That a silent plant produced in the sun.
I hardly notice their machineries
Humbly turning in the green spots
Waiting for respect.
Rice space
My blood rushes and my lips distend
At the thought of new chapter.
Few pages are created naïve,
Blank and open.
Sentences drop like rice grains
Leaving tiny marks
Forever.
White future
White hair between my fingers
And apparent on my mind,
Signal the time and story I have crossed.
Natural and unprecedented feathers
That take me to that next for of life
I am longing for,
Since a child.
Christmas time
I feel no cold in me
At Christmas time.
The weeks waiting
and the colours of the fire
Make me anticipate its value each year
And now is September
And I am already holding the calendar.
Meeting survival
Just let it happen and distance yourself
By flying to the coming singer
And exploring for the perfect Christmas present
Whole they all waste words.
Nod and consider
W what is really important to you
And take notes
To plan your short but dense free time
And your next knitting project.
Flamingo dance
On a foot I cruise the lab,
Walking sideways in a diagonal,
I reach my high desk.
I stretch my neck to discover the documents,
Hiding silent in the back,
While the others follow me
with their eyes filled of water.
Overdressed work
I march unnaturally
And the strength is artificial
When fighting is not a choice
but the only solution.
I March stiff and serious
For what will come through the door
And not only my body will be overdressed,
Yet judged.
