Poezja

Book Opens
 
Several upon a time, 
In the shadowy, cold sphere
Observed maliciously a people.
Sensing a heaviness in their minds, 
That spread through entirely.
However, 
It was in one corner only.
 
 
 
On the Verge
 
Silence.
The palpable cure
For a brilliant mind.
And patience.
The palpable solace
To acquire one.
 
 
 
In the Path of
 
Sensory lines
In the sense of, mine
Search for an answer
To the sublime.
 
Center of Earth
In the way of, me
Preach an answer
To reflection seen.
 
I stumble and wobble
Across the patterns…
Meet the me
Meet the answer.
 
 
 
As in Title
 
Round, the circumference
Satellite, interference
Interference, as in question
No, as in exclamation
The face of it, as in periods.
The space of it, as in one period
 
 
 
Assign
 
I used to carry a sign.
Thin  as hair, brick in weight.
So many letters cramped, 
In a limited amount of space.
It was sealed, stomped a stamp.
And concealed a thought exclaimed.
Nothing much, when much is nothing, 
Merely leaves in pain.
 
 
 
Below the Nose
 
My mouth obeys.
No more than the rest.
Stationary it is
When not asked to kiss.
Dancing it is
When asked to.
 
 
 
Shaped
 
Cube, life in many.
Linen drapes
Case, staircase.
Sit v-shaped.
Fragile and heavy.
 
 
 
Stubbornness
 
Yours, not mine.
Mine, now yours.
 
Children's cry
Not mine, yours.
Inside cubes
Crashing on walls 
Not yours, mine.
 
 
 
Lesson
 
Babies who scream, 
First for victory! 
Continue in speech.
A way to teach.
Babies who laugh, 
First in way of silly, 
Continue to teach.
 
 
 
Pupila
 
The black in eyes, 
To see.
Massive, compact.
Universe in sky, 
To see.
Universe in me.
 
 
 
Daydream
 
One more rest, 
Into dreams I fall.
In my waking hours, 
I dream, for all.
Hope in the form, 
Of anew.
Closer to life, 
Closer to you.

Written August, 2012