Painfully naked/Bolno razgolicena
Painfully naked
The wings of a dove
It took silence to understand as
Wordless it stood
Deeply meditating
Care caressing the air
Peace seeking paloma
Drawn in careful shades
Black grey white
Still sustaining
The whole flight
Frozen caught in a move
Bolno razgolić ena
Krila golubice
Trebalo je tišine da bi se shvatila
Jer
Bez riječ i je stajala
Duboko zamišljena
Brigom milujuć i vazdug
Paloma što traži mir
Iscrtana pažljivim sjenama
Crno sivo bijelo
Mirna hraneć i
Cjelokupan let
Smrznuta uhvać ena u pokretu
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Related quotes
Linda Paloma
At the moment the music began
And you heard the guitar player starting to sing
You were filled with the beauty that ran
Through what you were imagining
Dreaming of scenes from those songs of love
I was the endless sky
And you were my mexican dove
Now the music that played in your ears
Grows a little bit fainter each day
And you find yourself looking through tears
At the love you feel slipping away
Though its not the kind
Of love you might hope to find
If tears could release the heart
From the shadows preferred by the mind
Like a wind that comes up in the night
Caressing your face while you sleep
Love will fill your eyes with the sight
Of a world you cant hope to keep
Dreaming on after that moments gone
The light in your lovers eyes
Disappears with the light of the dawn
But the morning brings
Strength to your restless wings
And some other lover sings
To the suns bright corona
I know all about these things
Linda paloma
Fly away
Linda paloma
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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Today I sing/ Danas pjevam
Today I sing unrest of a pontoon bridge
Beyond the water looking for a step and kiss
The hint of transfer a raft right across the sky
A ducat's ‘neath the tongue for midnight abyss
At the river bottom dug without my name
Today I sing a stone oh so deep it fell
I spread wings to the door silently like a crane
From my bottom flight a toll is in the bell
I'll be in your heart an echo strong and endless
On the bridge your daughter made of sparkling dress
Danas pjevam nemir pontonskoga mosta
Nad vodom što traži svoj poljubac gaz
I slutnjom prelaska splavom preko neba
S dukatom pod jezikom za ponocni jaz
Na dnu rijeke kopane bez imena mog
Danas pjevam kamen što duboko tone
Širim krila vratima tiho kao ždral
Sa dna moga leta sva me zvona zvone
Bicu ti u srcu odjek jak bez kraja
Na sredini mosta tvoja kcer od sjaja
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The tree I am/ Ja sam drvo
The tree I am
Sideroad’s heart
My words in leaves
They touch the ground
The river I am
A beat in veins
My words in a drop
A swallowed water
The cloud I am
A written sky
Quote me not
The night is eavesdropping
Ja sam drvo
Srce krajputaša
Moje riječ i u lišć u
Dotič u tlo
Ja sam rijeka
U venama dodir
Moje riječ i u kapi
Progutana voda
Ja sam oblak
Ispisano nebo
Ne citiraj me
Prisluškuje noć
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Melody
Hit in the face by the backrest as I picked up
the chair, a Freudian slip, psychologists say,
token of an unconscious desire to hurt myself,
Abaheidschi-bumbaidschi bum-bum playing
on the radio
We sing you into dreamland, see a star in the
sky as we look back on a year of love, sung by
Austria’s mezzo-tenor Peter Alexander – how
charming, all self-pity gone, forehead swollen,
proud of my bruise
All laughter ran away today, Heino singing again,
ein Matrose, denke an den Liebsten, eine einsame
weisse Taube, Paloma, Grüss mir, Grüss mir dir,
den Liebsten Maria, bliebt sie voller Sehnsucht
hinterher - today I am
The melody of La Paloma Adieu…
La Paloma Adieu
Le soir ma m? re nous chantait quand j'? tais enfant
L'histoire d'un bateau perdu et d'un oiseau blanc
Un jour le bateau s'en va droit vers l'oc? an
Et seule, le c? ur plein d'amour une fille attend
Le marin lui a dit: 'n'oublie pas je t'aime'
L'hiver et le printemps elle attend quand m? me
Elle voit un oiseau blanc se poser pr? s d'elle
Qui portait quelques mots au creux de son aile
La paloma adieu, adieu c'est toi que j'aime
Ma vie s'en va mais n'aie pas trop de peine
Oh mon amour adieu!
La paloma adieu, adieu c'est toi que j'aime
Ma vie s'en va mais n'aie pas trop de peine
Oh mon amour adieu!
Elle prend tout contre son c? ur le bel oiseau blanc
Tout deux ils s'ont repartis droit vers l'oc? an
L'amour ne meurt jamais j'ai vue deux colombes
S'envoler vers la mer et que la nuit tombe
La paloma adieu, adieu c'est toi que j'aime
Ma vie s'en va mais n'aie pas trop de peine
Oh mon amour adieu!
La paloma adieu, adieu c'est toi que j'aime
Ma vie s'en va mais n'aie pas trop de peine
Oh mon amour adieu!
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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When I Was A Tree / Kad Sam Bila Drvo
Dusk beside the willows
I was standing in the light
A sunward hope wrote
Circles of time around my neck
When I was a tree
A deeply rooted curled hope of growth
Knitted a net of the beginning
There was a trunk under a rough core
The hairs drank the water of dawn
Bare boughs nested a prayer
When I was a tree
I was standing still
And all the movements
Were within me
A birds flight around my treetop
An aureole of the sun beyond
Two things I found out
I cannot sing a tree unless I’m a tree
And
There’s no tree unless I sing it
Kad sam bila drvo
Primrak pokraj breza
Stajala sam svjetlost
Pod dodirom obamrla nada
Putanjom sunca biljezila
Godove vremena na mom vratu
Kad sam bila drvo
Duboko u korjenu
Sklupcana snaga rasta
Plela je mrezu pocetka
Pod hrapavom korom stablo
Zilama upilo svu vodu svitanja
U golom granju gnijezdila se molitva
Kad sam bila drvo
Stajala sam nepomicno
A sva su kretanja bila u meni
Let ptice oko moje krosnje
Oreol sunca visoko iznad
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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They'll Say
your freedom
your freedom undressed the wings
naked it dances the tables of debris
its eyes so swollen it's pain so clear
sharp razor stolen unpainted
from the nights too deep
don't trust them move on
your time is yet to come
don't trust them be yours
best friend to divine
trust that's beneath
their horizon line
love them like friends
your enemies are none
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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When I was a tree
within the twiligth beside the willows
I stood the light
with the hope almost dying
under the fingertips
I marked by a sunbeam path
the circles of time around my neck
when I was a tree
deep down in the root
the strength of my growth was squatted
it weaved the web of a beginning
under a rough core the trunk
sucked in all the water of a dawn
within the bare boughs there nested
a prayer of mine for the end
the leaves like mirrors reflected the sky
when I was a tree
I stood motionless
and all the movements were there within
the flight of a bird around my treetop
an aureole of the sun high up
the piercing of the wind through the boughs
all the penetrations deep into the ground
when I was a tree
within the twilight beside the willows
all I stood was the light
and I knew
I cannot sing a tree unless I am a tree
and there is no tree unless I sing it
kad sam bila drvo
u primraku pokraj breza
stajala sam svjetlost
pod dodirom obamrla nada
putanjom sunca bilježila
godove vremena na mom vratu
kad sam bila drvo
duboku u korijenju
sklupčana snaga rasta
plela je mrežu početka
pod hrapavom korom stablo
žilama upilu svu vodu svitanja
u golom granju gnijezdila se
molitva moja za kraj
a lišće kao ogledala
presijava nebo
kad sam bila drvo
stajala sam nepomično
a sva su kretanja bila u meni
let ptice oko moje krošnje
oreol sunca visoko iznad
probijanje vjetra kroz granje
sva poniranja duboko u zemlju
kad sam bila drvo
u sumraku pored breza
stajala sam samo svjetlost
i znala
ne mogu pjevati drvo ako nisam drvo
i nema drveta osim ako ga ne ispjevam
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The river-Rijeka
search the river upstream
search the river downstream
the river bed is looking for me
traži rijeku uzvodno
traži rijeku nizvodno
rijeka me koritom traži
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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With Each Quiver Of The Heart
The space of silence
Word limited cage for an inch
The limits I push
Away from my own limits
Born a poetess
I knew nothing
A cunning stealer of whispers
I did not choose
I swear with the silence
In thousands of languages pronounced
In thousands of languages translated
In thousands of languages silent
Sa svakim treptajem srca
Prostor tišine
Riječ ju omeđ en kavez za pedalj
Granice guram
Daleko od svoje omeđ enosti
Ko pjesnikinja rođ ena
Prevejana kradljivica šapata
Birala nisam
Kunem se tišinom
Na hiljadama jezika izgovorenom
Na hiljadama jezika prevodjenom
Na hiljadama jezik preć utanom
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Your paths grew strange you became
Sad sagacious runaway legs frozen to the stone
The stone time testimony carved
Grey hairs each moment drowned in just one night
Stood still you watched them
The way they sold the mothers down the road
Their skirts their dresses their blouses
Their ribbons their hair their cuts
Down the children’s cry you cried
The way they sold the fathers
Those fathers of food those fathers of cherish
Their coats their shirts their boots
Their heart their lungs their eyes their cuts
Down the children’s cry you cried
‘I could have died of sorrow
But still could see but still could believe
There’s a wound and there’s a heart
There’s a healing as well
Sweet balm pouring down those drops of pain to soothe
©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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Paloma
Pontifex Maximus,
And of the history of man as recorded;
But it is better to learn from the truth always.
I am like the Olive Tree and,
I want you to be wise as well;
For the Gods are ruling all arouns us.
Paloma,
Learn from the Yahdaim and move up straight;
For only few will be saved through Yahshua Messiah.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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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Black raven, White dove
When it's black,
Like the raven,
The well is full, but full of what?
My sun is shining in a half pale burst,
With toxic, red hot guilt
And as if in stark contrast,
The white dove just hits home-
And its what I've always wanted alive,
But then when I give some brainpower,
I decide that maybe it could be dead-
And it took the black to show it.
But then the black of the raven,
So beautifully stunning,
I look at her and all I see,
Is the storm in her eyes,
And the dove
Should be crying
For it doesn't know
That my white heart is dying
Replaced by the black of the right
"Home is where the heart is"
Then my home's firmly with the white,
It's where I've lived,
For six months past,
And I feel like I belong
I feel like I am home there
But then I see,
Cupid's stupid decree-
With one black wing and one white,
But which is wrong?
Which right?
But is the dove ever going to surrender?
Wave its' flag and give in to the raven?
Cause the raven's a-pecking,
And so far she's winning,
And with a fight,
And a laboratory,
The boy of white has slim chance of winning.
Cause now that it's out,
I'm secretly devout,
So secretly, darkly obsessed,
With the black of the girl,
And the light blue of the raven's eye,
But then its' always been white,
The dove the keeper of my heart,
Cause I found the dove lost,
With clips in his wings,
And I tried to set him free
I showed all that he belonged to me
And he's the one who set me free,
My first and ever pet,
The first one I've wanted to be with-
Forever.
And the dove's innocent eyes,
And repeated cries,
Made me overlook the fact he can't fly,
But I'm not going to feed him,
All of his food,
He needs to live on his own too so he won't die
But could the raven ever be-
Just with me?
Even if the raven is more beautiful,
How does she know,
And how do I?
That she won't kill me,
That we won't die.
So used to the dove,
The raven's so new,
And there's so much evidence of some grey hue-
An ever-waging war,
Of black and white,
An ever-waging war,
Of wrong and right,
The dove or the raven,
Only you can decide,
The dove or the raven,
The tone that is inside.
poem by Ally Gunther
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Kroz vene ko uz konope svemira
Ti vereš se bez daha sav od svoga cilja
Puštaš riječ i u bezdomni šapat
Raskuć no piješ kišu doma svog
Piješ i pjevaš ravno ka srcu
Piješ padaš pjevaš
Pi-pa-po pi-pa-po
Ravno ka srcu
Piješ ustaješ pjevaš
Pij-usta-pjev pij-usta-pjev
Ravno ka srcu
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Grey Areas: Revised
they think and teach you
that black is black and white is white
that either you are moral or immoral
that either you leave or stay
that either you die or live
that there are only choices of
either/or
they tell you do not do this
do not do that
do only this and that
they prohibit you and tell you
it is for your own good
as though they are gods
and you are the dogs
an old man with bright eyes
asks me to go near him
and he says: try the middle of things
it is not just black or white but
there are shades and shades of choices
in between
in there everything is allowed.
the grey areas. the exceptions. the exemptions.
try them. they are all exciting. like the colors of the rainbow
like the patches of red, and orange and blue and pink
you see, who is telling you that there are no other colors
than black and white?
i am neither good nor bad.
In truth, i am just myself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Dove of Dacca
The freed dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings—
And the thorns have covered the city of Gaur.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Little white traitor, with woe on thy wings!
The Rajah of Dacca rode under the wall;
He set in his bosom a dove of flight—
`If she return, be sure that I fall."
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Pressed to his heart in the thick of the fight.
"Fire the palace, the fort, and the keep—
Leave to the foeman no spoil at all.
In the flame of the palace lie down and sleep
If the dove—if the dove—if the homing dove
Come, and alone, to the palace wall."
The Kings of the North they were scattered abroad—
The Rajah of Dacca he slew them all.
Hot from slaughter he stooped at the ford,
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove!
She thought of her cote on the palace-wall.
She opened her wings and she flew away—
Fluttered away beyond recall;
She came to the palace at break of day.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,
Flying so fast for a kingdom's fall!
The Queens of Dacca they slept in flame—
Slept in the flame of the palace old—
To save their honour from Moslem shame.
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove,
She cooed to her young where the smoke-cloud rolled!
The Rajah of Dacca rode far and fleet,
Followed as fast as a horse could fly,
He came and the palace was black at his feet;
And the dove—the dove—the homing dove,
Circled alone in the stainless sky.
So the dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings;
So the thorns covered the city of Gaur,
And Dacca was lost for a white dove's wings.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,
Dacca is lost from the Roll of the Kings!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Black+White=My Life
Black-
The color of my soul
White-
The color of my spirit
Together Black and White combined
It all equals my life
The 2 only colors
That are not really colors at all
The story of my life
I am alone
I die slowly and painfully
Not a care in the world
Where I would end up
If only I would survive...
Black-
The color of my Heart
White-
The color of my Hopes and Dreams
Together again Black and White reunite as one
As you can tell
The 2 only colors of my life are Black and White
As if you care
You rather see me suffer in vain
You keep heaeing me say I am alone
Well now you know its true
poem by Makayla Straight
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