Dear Diary-Dragi Dnevnič e
I cannot write, zour paper is too innocently white.
Ne mogu da pišem, papir ti je isuviše nevino bijel.
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Related quotes
Joy
Joy needs no reason at all, sorrow looks for one?
Radosti ne treba razlog, tuga ga traži?
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Antagonism vs epigonism
It's more interesting to watch two strong spirits in antagonism that a multitude of them in epigonism.
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Lunacy-Ludilo
Lunacy is a metaphor one should not play with.
Ludilo je metafora sa kojom se ne bi trebalo poigravati.
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Spread your soul and lift
Your call towards the gift
The present of a child a never ending now
To live here each moment in a God blessed vow
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Limits/Granice
Perhaps we can put a mountain into chains
But the echo will survive.
Mozda mozemo okovati planinu
Ali eho ć e preživjeti.
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Tis a highly descriptive task
to write your lips as they bite the glass
rims standing even and the drink it's been
made of sweet and bitter
rivers lakes and oceans
spilling drops of blue
to dwell on your eyelashes
eyes closed quiver fear
to stand on the fingertips
and to read the lines
broken palms of hands
geometry divinity
grasped in human kind
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Paint/Slikaj
Paint surreal nightmare a mimetic future?
Slikaj nadrealni košmar mimetič ku buduć nost?
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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It ain't like in the movies at all
and it ain't the way one writes
even if he's not been there
and it ain ;) t the way one hopes
naive as he's not been there
and it ain: (t the way one thinks
'cause he's never seen
bird watchers watch the prey move stealthily
just to turn it into an ngo
no lol no it ain :) t like in the movies at all
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Interpretations-Tumač enja
Are terrible burden of contemporary thinking language stuck states of mind.
su užasan teret savremenog mišljenja stanja uma zaglavljena u jeziku.
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
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Not anything else
you say that's been said
you say that's been said
you've seen that's been seen
you've seen that's been seen
you've been that's been hurt
you've been that's been hurt
'there's still some heart that beats under this shirt'
you've said it's been said
you've said it's been seen
you've said will beat again
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Readability-Č itljivost
Is a tip of an iceberg that melts down with the first letter read, the rest is an ocean of interpretations.
Č itljivost je vrh ledenog brijega kji se topi sa prvim proč itanim slovom, ostalo je okean tumač enja.
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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At The Heart Of Exit
Help
Save
Preserve
Love
Beautify
Restore
Torn
Still
Strong
Word s
Cherished
The ways
Of Mother Earth
Singing real loud
The song of Entrance
At the heart of Exit
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Picaro grew smaller and smaller
The hurdles grew taller and taller
Satyros tragos peeled off his skin
Piled up reality up to his chin
Now swim through the dim
Oceans of blue heart
Butterfly style make it an art
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Unheard
you can hear but a millionth part
of what the edges are silent about
no matter how many ears you lend
to the sound of rains
or the wind that I could never spell
or the waves I was crashed in
or a thunder that once spoke to me
about the lightening beauty encoded
in the palm of a human hand
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Laugh
measure a dust particle movement
think it surpasses the speed of light
what's the speed by which
the particle measures itself
even Prothagora would laugh
and Einstein pull his tongue out again?
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Picaro
Picaro signed its breath across the lines
Ash earthen fallen hurdles into dust
A sigh sign blown into whirls of time
Read off the palm read off the palm
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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There's A Sunset That's Made Only For The Glass Hour
some sundials that dropp silent secs of time
no shade in between standing too close to the past
it blooms like flowers never seen by eyes
it whispers like rains your hands have never touched
there's just a hint of the dusk in an unheard breaking
of window panes that stood closed for too long
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The White Of The Paper
i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they ask such
a simple task from me
write as you wish
think as you want to
or dont want to
I feel a white dove
flying amongst wondrous
cumulus clouds
meditate as much as i wish
so that the white becomes
a mere plane of zen,
a vibration of existence
i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they ask just
such a simple thing of me
to swing myself and exercise
my thoughts so that i let loose
clouds, birds, stars and moon
in the minds of men
i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they always
are my best friends,
open an infinite plane
for me to act out my antics
for the good of men,
exercise their minds and
let their humours flow
i like the white of the
screen and the paper
because they are always
there to accommodate me
to let the gift from heaven flow
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A leaf turns not into a fall
If there’s a hand a soft bottom call
Autumns of rain autumns of gold
In each leaf the soul beauty enfolds
And it’s not dying just fallen asleep
Beauty spelled peaceful in spring to leap
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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