A bullet proof thought/Misao otporna na metak
A bullet proof thought
Pushed away determines the edges of a goal
A life style built on the margins of its own lie
Hardly overcoming a life form
Like a deadly foe always ready to shoot
Sworn by dawn and its own branch of the sun
To settle it on a thin beam of breathing
You asked me where one should go
I the daughter of a sorry
I am carried towards her own edges
Where each goal is to disappear into the clouds
And sing new skies in an armful of white
I dwell within the kiss of the paths
In a street made up of one name only
Pushed down the number thirty five
On the threshold of all the houses a doormat of a dwelling
Knocking with its heart on its own door
And my eyes fall down my own windows
Down to a mad world
That's become less painful
Since the moment I stopped looking for
Miraculous meanings of words
Grown within time and layers of the uttered
Now I first give them to the birds
If they don't eat I don't eat eaither
That's where I'm going
What about you
Misao otporna na metak
Skrajnuta odreduje ivice cilja
Životni stil izgraden na marginama sopstvene laži
Tesko preboljeva životnu formu
Ko smrtnog neprijatelja uvijek spremnog na pucanj
Zakletog svitanjem sopstveni ogranak sunca
Da ugnijezdi na tankoj zraci disanja
Pitala si me kuda
Ja kci jednog žao mi je
Nošena na sopstvene rubove
Gdje svaki cilj je nestati oblakom
Narucjem bjeline ispjevati nova neba
Stanujem u poljupcu staza
U ulici sazdanog od samo jednog imena
Gurnutog s broja trideset i pet
Na pragu svih kuca otirac stanovanja
Što srcem kuca na sopstvena vrata
A oci mi padaju niz sopstvene prozore
Dolje na sludjeni svijet
Što postaje manje bolan otkad ne tražim
Cudotvorna znacenja rijeci
Uraslih u vrijeme i slojeve recenog
Sad ih prvo dam pticama
Ako ih ne jedu necu ni ja
Eto tuda idem
A ti
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
To make them live/Da bi zivjele
The bird stuck in my heart side breast
It’s trying to fly
On a magic key
Flirting with a wisdom snake
Wound within it own spiral
There’s the sky around us
The earth around us
The breath within us
U sudden turmoil
Calling the shades
Back to their body colours
There’s the sky around us
The earth around us
The breath within us
An epiphany of breathing
Calling the light
Each particle each wave
Back to the hair split in hands
Combing words dead
Combing words white
To make them live
Ptica zaglavljena u grudima tamo gdje je srce
Pokušava da leti na magicnom kljucu
Flertuje sa zmijom mudrošcu
Uvijenom oko sopstvene spirale
Oko nas je nebo
Oko nas je zemlja
I u nama dah
Iznenadni nemir
Što zove sjenke
Nazad bojama njihovog tijela
Oko nas je nebo
Oko nas je zemlja
I u nama dah
Epifanija disanja što zove svjetlo
Svaku cesticu svaki talas
Nazad u kosu ispucalu u rukama
Što cešljaju rijeci mrtve
Što cešljaju rijeci bijele
Da bi živjele
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A discovery/Otkrice
From behind all the twilights and evening shadows
Under all the covers
And you who do the night rims vigils
Under all sand clocks
And far from those who chase
The windmills of their won restlessness
From behind all the silences hidden within themselves
From behind all the words hidden within themselves
That we were silent with
I took out a flame a fire of the being
It's not the doors locked by the mind
It's not by the mind
Those are not the loves plundered by a heart
Those are not the creatures dried out by the heart
It's not the heart hunt but it's with the heart
It's you and I
And she and he
Those breathings there and these breathings here
That breathe in life everywhere and forever
And they are never now
Oh if we were now how could we be
Otkrice
Iza svih sutona i vecernjih sjenki
Ispod svih pokrivaca
I vas nocobdija okorjele noci
Ispod svih pješcanih satova
I dalje od onih što ganjaju
Vjetrenjace sopstvenih nemira
Iza svih u sebi skrivenih cutanja
Iza svih u sebi skrivenih rijeci kojima smo cutali
Izvukla sam plamen
Oganj samog bice
To nisu umom zakljucana vrata
To nije umom
To nisu srcem poharane ljubavi
To nisu srcem ispijena bica
To nije lov srca no srcem je
To smo ti i ja
I ona tamo i ova ovdje disanja
Što životom dišu svugdje i zauvijek
I nikada u sada
O da smo sada kako bismo bili
1995.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Turned
Turned into small bowls with fullness opening
Wing spread openness the thought ajar
It beats in the birds runs in waterfalls
The home of crossroads in its heart
It beats life silently deems death
It flickers in the fires of old tribes
They carry the rivers in their arms
For our being between mud and a cloud
The unbuilt built in everything
The unuttered pronounced in everything
Never enough life in anything lived
Turned into small bowls with fullness opening
U zdjelice pretvorena otvaranjam punoce
Raskriljena otvorenost odskrinuta misao
Kuca u pticama vodopadom tece
Kuca zivot tihuje smrt
Pucketa u vatrama starih plemena
Sto u rukama rijeke nose
Za nasa bivanja
Izmedju blata I oblaka
Od svega izgradjena neizgradjenost
Od svega prozivljenog nikada dovoljno zivota
U zdjelice pretvorena otvaranjem pun
It beats in the birds runs in waterfalls
The home of crossroads in its heart
It beats life silently deems death
It flickers in the fires of old tribes
They carry the rivers in their arms
For our being between mud and a cloud
The unbuilt built in everything
The unuttered pronounced in everything
Never enough life in anything lived
Turned into small bowls with fullness opening
U zdjelice pretvorena otvaranjam punoce
Raskriljena otvorenost odskrinuta misao
Kuca u pticama vodopadom tece
Kuca zivot tihuje smrt
Pucketa u vatrama starih plemena
Sto u rukama rijeke nose
Za nasa bivanja
Izmedju blata I oblaka
Od svega izgradjena neizgradjenost
Od svega prozivljenog nikada dovoljno zivota
U zdjelice pretvorena otvaranjem punoce
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Od Cežnje Nabrekla Dahom Ukleta
Sopstvenu sjenku gazim
Sašivenom haljom od hiljade ljeta
Zmijom ugrižena zemljama gazim
I tu sam sasvim gdje još me ima
Gdje rijeci mi još blagoslov mole
S krajickom proljeca u snu smrtnih zima
Zraci me misli griju i još vole
U vatri gašena na lomaci slutnji
Da rijecju još je obrecena nada
U stisku neba u dnu svih slutnji
Gdje bezdano liže plamen mog pada
Od cežnje nabrekla dahom ukletim
Svom miru za jedan plamen sam bliže
Tu sam da dišem još malo da letim
Jer rijec me vatre na oltar diže
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Quite Subsidiary / Sasvim Pritocno
diary pages i never wrote
due to some unknown individual intuition
a friend once explained to me
which i never really understood
they keep oozing in front of my eyes
a trailer from a movie long forgot
a midsummer's heat
pronounced at the tip of my tongue
that does not remember the language
but is ready to outriver the numbers
sliding down the covers
there's a painting perhaps
that i've never been up to
and i will never paint
a draft made of eyes and ears void
staring right at me from the broken sky
that knows each piece of its shatteredness
foretold by the mirror
i normally use to put lipstick only
or merely draft my eyes so as not to forget them
by the end of the day
and each time my fingers prolong into keyboards
there's a music played unheard humming oou of debris
the world would say it's time for itself to die
in the meaning of each word that's uttered about it
stubbornly defending its unutteredness
that always shakes me into an earthquake speech
and just like an earthquake i cannot stand still
there are too many cracks i made and need to fill
sascim pritocno
stranice dnevnika koje nikad nisam ispisala
zahvaljujuci jednoj individualnoj intuiciji
koju mi je prijatelj jednom objasnio
a nikad je nisam razumjela
cure mi pred ocima
trejler iz filma davno zaboravljenog
Jovanjdanja vrelina
izgovorena na vrhu jezika
koja je zaboravila jezik
ali je spremna da nadrijeci brojeve
što klize niz korice
postoji moždajedna slika
kojoj nikad nisam bila dorasla
koju nikad necu naslikati
slika napravljena od ociju i ušiju jaza
koja me posmatra pravo iz slomljenog neba
koje poznaje svaki komadic svoje polomljenosti
obrecene ogledalom
što ga obicno koristim samo da bih stavila ruž
ili skicirala svoje oci
da ih ne zaboravim do kraja dana
i svaki put kad mi se prsti izduže u klavijature
stvara se necujna muzika što pjevuši iz srce
svijet bi rekao da mu je vrijeme da umre
u znacenju svake rijeci koja je o njemu izrecena
uporno braneci svoju neizrecivost
koja me uvijek protrese u govor zemljotresa
i baš kao zemljotres ne mogu da stojim mirno
ima previše pukotina koje sam stvorila
a moram da ih popunim
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Heraclitus Fr.30
The world is becoming the bruise in my heart
The desert skin wearing the burns of the dark
The burns of the light
It’s placed in the accords of infliction
The thought of the rain and wind the volcano and the grain
A re-creation of endless circles
The spheric cages of the sky and earth
Dressed in moss my chilly waitings are
The soul of the north freezes my breath
Reality swallowed in a piece of question
Infinitely pushes the edges of the fall
The finite stuck within a dream
Where have I heard the eternal rhythm of the tribe
The beating of the earth within its step
The breathing of the water dripping down
The walls of the caves
Where have I seen the volcano lava
From the centre of nothing into the infinite
The flame was singing instead of me
From secret to secret lit up died out
Peaceful fires of order
Among which I burned
Written in 1995.
Svijet mi postaje modrica na srcu
Koža pustinje sa opekotinom od mraka
Sa opekotinom od svjetla
Staje u akorde stradanja
Misao kiše i vjetra vulkana i grumena
Ponovno stvaranje beskrajnih kružnica
Kružni kavezi zemlje i neba
Obrasla mahovinom ledna mi č ekanja
Sjeverna duša ledi mi dah
Pod kriškom pitanja progutana stvarnost
U nedogled gura rubove pada
Gdje se u konač nost sabija san
Otkud sam č ula vječ ni ritam plemena
Otkucaj zemlje u njegovim stopama
Disanje vode u iskapavanju
Sa zidova peć ina
Otkud sam vidjela lavine vulkana
Iz grotla nič eg u beskraj
Umjesto mene pjevao je plamen
Iz tajne u tajnu palila se gasila
Mirna svjetla poretka
Izmeđ u njih gorjela sam ja
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Room/Soba
The room the dropp of space
Inhabited by the dwelling mistrust
A grain four dimensioned pushed
Into time as if pushed into an hour
That tick tock possessed by
The sound of its own rhythm
Crosses the limits into an endless over itself
It wants eternity immortality
The root of each a-prefix
Obliteration of oppositions
Endlessly sharpened into the hints
Of each existence where there exists
Endlessly crossed
The room cannot be corners overstepping
It's got its depth the magic power of the center
Matrix of a metropolis cube
Its own soul crying for a mother
The room the mythrix of the outcast of delivery
Evenly creates the sharp lines of writtenness
Within its own creation
Without a single dropp of fear
Of closed space
Soba
Soba kap prostora u koji ulazi nepovjerenje stanovanja
Četvrtom dimenzijom survan grumen u vrijeme
Ko u sat što tik tak ophrvan opsjednut
Zvukom sopstvenog ritma opkoračuje granice
Teži u beskraj preko samog sebe
Hoće vječnost besmrtnost hoće korijen svakog a-prefiksa
Ukidanje suprotnosti neizmjerno izoštrenih
U obrise svakog postojanja
Kojim se postoji raspeto do iznemoglosti
Soba ne može biti premošćivanje uglova
Ona ima dubinu magičnu moć centra
Matrix kocke metropolu sopstvene duše
Što za majkom jauče
Soba je 'mitriks' na kojoj odrod radjanja
Ujednačeno tvori oštre linije iscrtanosti
U sopstvenom tvorenju bez kapi straha
Od zatvorenog prostora
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Last night
Last night I asked the drop
what nobody had dared to ask before
I said
come on, isn't it time you washed my face
isn't it time you stopped falling in tears
isn't it time for me to drink you
isn't it time for you to touch me
isn't it time for me to see the world within you
come on, what are you waiting for
why don't you finally fall down
that was the rage of a dead chicken
Sinoc sam rekla kaplji
sto joj niko ranije nije smio reci
rekla sam
hajde, nije li vrijeme da me umijes
nije li vrijeme da suzom prestanes
nije li vrijeme da te popijem
nije li vrijeme da dotaknes
nije li vrijeme da u tebi sagledam svijet
hajde sta cekas
zasto vec jednom prosto ne kanes
bio je to bijes mrtvog pileta
Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What a path cannot say (Nafaka)
Eternity will
All of us there
Take a long rest of all the thoughts
What treetops cry will settle in a breath
Pass away alongide myself
Everything there
Take a long rest of all the thoughts
sve sto staza srca ne moze da kaze
reci ce vjecnost
svi tamo
na veliki odmor svih misli
sve sto placu krosnje stace u dah
nestati zajedno samnom
sve tamo na veliki odmor
svih misli
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
That Had Them/Sto Imalo Ih Je
...that they had
the nightmares that had them
and the time they had that had them
with a little practical first aid kit
in case the world ends the way it's been
at least yearly anounced
sometime from March to December
and almost imperceptibly that they had
the goals the dreams that had them
as well as the time that had them
they had? like a never made of always
most of all they knew
that they were known by things they never knew
with a will of a throne it red carpet like walked them
from dire to straights only blood
they had in the dropp recorded they were
in a biometrical test that had them
tested on the meaning of the cells immemorial
they had blood? like a clock an hour hidden by their brother
for being an eternal possession of naming
the names they had that had them
covenantly uttered amidts the language made of light
the light they had a sight amidst the blindness
that had them for being had amidst the darkness
twilightly with the hands unembraced sand and a candle of fear
what they shiverred with shivered them summoned by the wind to sway
for the wind it was the last singing that sang them
amidst singing the last swaying that swayed them sleepless
the dream they had? that had them dreamt fate vowed stricken
never awake for awake a new different possession had them
the gap overstepped by waiting the pit of knowledge eye apples
off the knowlede of good and evil they watched
that watched them without blinking carefully
the result of the reason tainted by memory
with too much possession at the eye bottom ti watch
the same old passion with which poetry
builds the world and destroys the worlds a stone to stone
omen and glimmer
...koji imali su
što imali su da imalo ih je
noćne more što imale si ih
i vrijeme imali što imalo ih je
sa malim praktičnim setom za hitnu pomoć
u slučaju da svijeta okonča kako se bar jednom godišnje
negdje od marta do decembra uvijek najavljuje
i sasvim neznatno što imali su
ciljeve snove što imali su ih
a i vrijeme što imalo ih je
imali su? kao jednog nikad od uvijek
a ponajviše što znali su
da znalo ih je i što znali nisu
sa voljom od prijestola crveno tepihno hodalo ih je
od nemila do nedraga samo krv
što imali su je kapljom zabilježeni
biometrijskim testom što imao ih je
za provjeru značenja ćelija od vajkada
imali su krv? kao jednu od brata uru skriven sat
za bivanje vječnim posjedom imenovanja
imena su imali što imala su ih
zavjetno izgovorena sred jezika od svjetla
svjetlo imali su vidjelo sred sljepila
što imali ih je za imalo se sred mraka
primračno rukama odgrljen pijesak i žižak od straha
što drhtali su drhtalo ih je vjetrom prizvano da se njiše
jer vjetar to posljednje pjevanje bješe što pjevalo ih je
sred pjevanja posljednje njihanje što njihalo ih je bez sna
san imali su? što imao ih je za snivati snom sudbom zakletom
nebudjen jer budjen drugačiji novi za posjed imao ih je
čekanjem premošćen jaz jame znanja jabučice očne
s poznanja dobra i zla gledali su
što gledalo ih je netremice bez treptaja pomno
ishod razuma pomućenog sjećanjem
s previše posjeda u dnu oka za gledanje
jedne iste strasti kojom poezija
svijet gradi svjetove ruši od kamena kamenu
spomen i sjaj
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I do not know what the bird is thinking/Ja ne znam sta ptica mni
I do not know what a bird is thinking
Into the hints-I know the edges-a walk and a step
And a flight pushed away against the sky
A waterfall of ink pushed down into a word
I'm writing a cloud blue beyond the lead of a letter
Tense it stands a naked with a sign a hand of dark
Pushed further by the wind the thirst dies from air
It satiates itself and it hurts a raindrop
The truth of its flight is the truth of today
But the truth of today is not the same tomorrow
Ja ne znam šta jedna ptica mni
U slutnje-ivice poznam-gaz i korak
Spram neba rukom odgurnut let
Vodopad mastila srucenog u rijec
Pišem oblak plavo nad olovnim slovom
Sapet stoji golo znakom rukom tmine
Vjetrom guran dalje žedj vazduhom gine
Samu sebe toli kaplju kiše boli
Istina joj leta istina od danas
Al istina od danas nije ista sutra
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beside the ashes of an hour/Kraj pepela od sata
You said -it is seven o'clock
And this has not been filled yet
And this hour still strikes the night-
-Here's a moment here's a moment-
A Sunbeam is whispering
-Come one build it a home
A mole builds a dam against the rivers and currents
A bird builds a best from salvation straws
Humans build the houses themselves the windows and the doors
Re-paint the cave
Beside the ashes of an hour
Reče sedam je sati
A urna ova još nije puna
A ura ova još kuca noć
Evo trena evo trena
Šapuće Sunčev zrak
Hajde gradi mu dom
Ko krtica brane spram rijeka i toka
Ko ptica gnijezda od slamčica spasa
Ko čovjek kuće sebe okna vrata
Pećinu nanovo oslikaj
Kraj pepela od sata
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Un enfant terrible
A lovely child of beautitude
Breaks a toy of life under the fingers
Breathes in what takes a breath away
Dies its own immortality
Un enfant terrible
A terrible child
The daughter and the son of fire
Adopted in a tender flame
It will come out the box
Be the victim of the broken fire
Be a necklace of its own yearning
Be a rope around its own neck
And an endless circle
Ljupko dijete blaženstva
Pod prstima lomi igračku života
Udiše ono što oduzima dah
Sopstvenu besmrtnost umire
Un enfant terrible
Užasno dijete
Kćer požara i sin vatre
Pastorče nježnog plamička
Izaćiće iz svoje kutije
Biti žrtva polomljene vatre
Ogrlica sopstvene čežnje
Omča oko vrata
I beskrajan krug
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This World Is Your Brainchild (Unite Unite Europe)
You self-proclaimed mother of all the cultures and civilisations
You blue-eyes girl who does not remember the colour of the sky
Are you still swaying the continents in your cradle
With your spiritual tentacles
From Africa to Asia from Australia to America
Are you still taking on your morning boots
Your Nazisms Communisms
Your Democratic Simulacrae Civilisms
Your Natio-Philic and Open Society of your Voids
To run over the world once again
And spit into the face of Atlas
You neatly construed in a plundered haiku
Within a tanka syllable an open cave
Of Plato's anxiety
You performed at the botox party
Among the fields of deceptions
That you plough up and down your face
You fat burned
Casting fat of your own greed into a river oblivion
And the river doesn't want it
You minced at the bottom of all the values
Like GM meat glued to the bones of a hungry child
What's that watching you within a graffiti
On the wall of shame
Ti samozvana majko svih civilizacija i kultura
Djevojko plavih očiju što boju neba ne pamtiš
Ljuljaš li još kontinente u svojoj kolijevci
Sa pipcima od Afrike do Azije od Australije do Amerike
Obuvaš li jutrom još uvijek svoje ćizme
Svoje nacizme komunizme
Svoja demokratska simulakra civilizme
Svoja nacio-filstva otvoreno društvo svojih ponora
Još jednom da zgaziš svijet
I pljuneš u lice Atlasa
Uredno složena u poharani haiku
U slogu tanke razjapljena pećina
Platonovog nespokojstva
Ti odrađena na botoks zabavi
Niz njive siulakruma što ih po licu brazdaš
Ti masnoćom izgorena
Što masnoću sopstvene pohlepe
Bacaš u rijeku zaborava a ona je neće
Ti samljevena u dnu vrijednosti
Kao GM meso zalijeljeno za kosti gladnog djeteta
Šta te grafitom posmatra na zidu srama?
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mišlju Nedorecen
Mišlju nedorecen gradiš joj san
Na ramenu ti znak
A oko ti trne
Mišlju nedorecen osviceš joj dan
Prag i korak lak
U vec pune urne
Sipaš vrijeme od praha sat
Otkucaj kradeš vjecnosti tat
Sipaš vrijeme o ludog li sna
Ponoc kuca otkucaj je zna
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
OLd SOul
Wise beyond her years
With eyes that know the world
Mature before she's grown
And pushed out into the world
She's an old soul
With old world knowledge
Profound speech
Without ever attending college
Pushed before she was ready
Yet she didn't let herself fall
Out in the big bad world before she new it all
Beforehand knowledge
That could not be obtained
By regular real world practices
They are not the same
She's an old soul
With old thoughts
and fresh looks
Men stare
She doesn't care
She knows there all crooks
She's seen the ups and downs
Like all through a previous life
She's an old soul
Just living with more than half the strife
poem by Ashley Stone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When you turn the other page of a cheek/Kad okreces drugu stranicu obraza
When you turn the other page of a cheek
A slap of morn written abyss down your neck
A glove that you lift right from the floor
To throw it into the face of the tree swallowers
That keep growing faster than the boughs
Up to the sky lid in the cauldron of each word
Does it ever come to your mind
What it is there that bursts out in a dream
Do you then think of streets those winding snakes
With their tongue dipped into the poison paths
The buses that turn questionless to a wheel
Insanity spinning both Alladin and the lamp
A sign post in the dark
Do you then think of the houses windows and doors
And heart beats facing the gate of the entrance
As if it was the first time to come into a human
Not knowing whether the host was inside
Do you then think those thoughts from the threshold of pain
Making way to earth mother dust and death
To rest all your thoughts at the end of the road
When the earth bursts out and leaves you with no breath
Kad okreceš drugu stranicu obraza
šamar jutra ispisan brazdama do vrata
rukavicu koju podižeš sa poda
i bacaš u lice gutacima drveca
što rastu brže od granja
do poklopca neba u kotlu svake rijeci
pomisliš li nekad šta puca u snu
misliš li tad na ulice krivudave zmije
s jezikom umocenim u otrov puta
autobuse pretocene u tocak bez pitanja
što bezumno okrece Aladina i lampu
putokaz u mraku
misliš li tad na kuce prozore i vrata
na lupanje srca pred kapijom na ulaz
kao da prvi put ulaziš u covjeka
a ne znaš da li je domacin unutra
misliš li misli sa praga bola
što put krce zemlji majci od praha
da na kraju puta odmoriš sve misli
kada zemlja pukne i kad ostaneš bez daha
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The pink slip
At the bottom of the files it was kept there
April 2,2002
Remember the exact date
A pink slip
Among the yellow sheets
Inside the big brown envelope
Life does not complete the cycle
Without it
You want to forget it
You bury it
On layers and layers of sadness
Like sand and gravel and leaves and grass and rocks
It never dies
It shouts the truth that there was this coward
Inside you
Crying for justice
Looking for a redemption
Today you take that pink slip again
Touching the edges and
Rereading the story that it is telling
The words there are painful
It is only you who knows what it means
It is both freedom and vengeance breathing
Life again saying
Tomorrow, yes tomorrow that star
Out there shall soon fall
And your laughter shall be last
Reverberating
Beyond the four corners of
The pink slip
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
True Action!
We are laborer,
Absolutely Pure laborer!
Then why, suffering, complaining,
On own stresses, about unnecessary sweats and toiling!
Work that must be inspired,
Where worker should never come to tire.
No exhaustion but the enjoyment while working,
And true nobler are enthusiastic about goal pursuing!
True Goal is not achieving the goal,
But striving to reach the goal is the real goal.
One should keep the goal to shoot at the highest emplacement,
So that one can enjoy his whole life without getting retirement.
Goal should be so high so that none can reach,
Why should ideal be kept so high so that it can’t be reached?
Striving to reach the highest is the moment where we grow,
Reaching the goal is the end of the goal, hence it will simply blow.
poem by Warner Keisham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The first drop-Prva kap
the first dropp will touch your lips
the first break of dawn will touch your brow
the first open arms will call you into an embrace
the first open eyelids will open up my windows
letting the day come in
prva kap pašće na tvoje usne
prvi zrak svitanja dotaći ti čelo
prvo otvaranje oka pozvaće te u zagrljaj
prvo otvaranje kapaka otvroiće moje prozore
da unutra uđe dan
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!