A poem about the best part of my morning routine.

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

Of all the tasks in my morning routine,
one habit shines a light on my day.
It’s not my favorite induce of caffeine,
or listening to the maddening sounds the pigeons make every day.

Once I get up from my bed,
and wash my face with cold water.
Numerous thoughts start emerging from my head,
to remind me of the day’s obligations that matter.

Then I’ll read some pages of a book,
and take some notes for future use.
I’ll order a freddo espresso without a second thought,
and go out the balcony to breathe some fresh exhaust fume.


A poem about a small excursion.

Photo by Ibrahim Adel on Unsplash

Once the quarantine rules got a little loose,
my partner and I grabbed the chance right away.
Although staying home and wearing a mask outside I don’t refuse,
When it comes to a small excursion, I wouldn’t miss it for a single day.

Our first goal was to bring to our mind,
how it feels to be in the presence of nature.
To give ourselves a chance to unwind,
and leave our “to-do” lists for later.

We walked through muddy trails,
and green fields, filled with trees.
I absorbed nature’s fascinating details,
and forgot my town’s noisy cars with ease.

No matter how small the audience, you can still make an impact.

Photo by Philippe Bout on Unsplash

What do you want most as a writer?

The magic ability to make every post you publish viral? Connections with famous writers? A loyal audience anticipating your next piece every time they log into Medium or your blog?

They are all worth pursuing, and they all come down to views and money (except the viral magic, which I don’t have a clue about it).

For most writers I’ve met, professionals or amateurs like myself, there is something deeper than that.

When I use the word “deeper” I am not implying that this “something” is superior to money or views. Not…

A poem about my brother.

Photo by Kylo on Unsplash

When I was young and very small,
my parents would buy me all kinds of gifts.
I was a spoiled only child that wanted it all,
ending up being responsible for many conflicts.

One day, I came back from school,
my mother told me we should have a chat.
She told me a new little brother would come soon,
and that we will love and look at.

When my brother came to our home in soft cloth wrapping,
he was so small and fragile,
I recall picking him up while he was napping,
to hug him and see him smile.

A poem about how your inevitable death helps you beat procrastination.

Photo by Sinitta Leunen on Unsplash

There are days within each month,
my inner resistance comes out with pride,
and commands me at once,
to leave both my work and side projects aside.

How delightful it would be to unwind,
and play all the games included in the Xbox game pass,
or browse through Netflix and pick any movie or series I can find,
and sit on my couch to numb my brain and my ass.

When I was young and quite dumb,
I didn’t consider that someday I’ll reach the end of my existence. …

A poem for those who died.

Photo by Kyle Smith on Unsplash

There are times I get nostalgic,
and dream about my family members who have died.
They appear before me just like magic,
and have a chat with me while they rest right by my side.

I would say I’ve missed them,
and ask how they are doing.
It seems like yesterday I talked to them,
even though years have passed and my dream is pointless in pursuing.

I am sure I won’t see them again no matter how unjust,
since I am sure my body will decay once I pass away. …

A poem about attaining the present moment.

Photo by Ryan Storrier on Unsplash

The most fulfilling moments,
are those deeply flourished in simplicity,
Those few seconds that sometimes,
make the time to freeze and open the portal to infinity.

They don’t require to have much cash,
or live in a fabulous place.
Neither to deny all our possessions in a flash,
and believe that a lot of money isn’t worthy to embrace.

They will gladly pay us a visit,
when our mind is clear like a shiny day.
Once they come to us it will become quite explicit,
even though the feelings we experience are impossible to convey.

The most fulfilling moments,
can’t be…

A poem about overcoming writer’s block.

Photo by Ryan Snaadt on Unsplash

Once I begin to write and try to look,
for an idea that has the potential to glow.
The room that was once empty now becomes full,
when I am about to enter my writing flow.

Dark demons out of nowhere emerge
wearing ragged old cloaks.
Their goal is my productivity to purge,
along with my focus and all my hopes.

The times I resist them with all my power,
they succeed to put me down.
I end up with a tank depleted of willpower,
and a few poor paragraphs, feeling like a clown.

Weirdly enough, when I accept their…

A poem about the excessive usage of screens.

Photo by Joshua Aragon on Unsplash

Whatever job or hobby we carry out,
we can’t escape the screen.
A fierce friend and powerful ally,
it gives birth to dreams we couldn’t have foreseen.

Via a screen, a doctor can save a life,
even though the patient lies 400 kilometers away,
and I can publish all my thoughts for an issue I strife,
without waiting outside a editor’s doorway.

It provides the knowledge to learn any craft,
as long as we stay persistent and filled with passion,
and many chances to waste our time feeling daft,
while we postpone to take action.

Through the screen, we enter…

A poem about a strange but soothing feeling.

Photo by Faye Cornish on Unsplash

Once my perpetual thinking takes a break,
and I take a good deep breath,
a strange feeling I usually forsake,
bursts through my chest and makes me more awake.

It’s something like you’ve never seen,
although I am sure you know of it.
Once I forget who I am and where I’ve been,
a deep feeling like a voice becomes lit.

A gentle inner voice patiently waits to be heard.
She won’t disturb me or say offensive words.
Her only goal is to help me get out of my head.

When anger graciously emerges out of depth,
and pleasure meets…

George Bakoulis

I steal ideas from great books. I write poetry to express myself and articles regarding mindsets about work. New content every time I write.

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