Start the flight
Dwell within a broken bread
Warm and fragrant among your fingers
The sound of its crust cracking
Give the winged crumbs to the birds
Feed the world with yourself
Bitten by the hunger of the sky
Eaten by the restlessness of the body
Start the flight
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Related quotes
The hunger
the hunger thinks the rice
can chew both skin and bone
the hunger thinks it's nice
to eat although forlorn
the hunger thinks the corn
can swallow ears and eyes
deaf blind hunger born
self eaten within it dies
the hunger thinks the food
is just a body's unfair breath
the hunger knows the interlude
no food the body eats itself
the hunger thinks the body rotten
is just a place to survive and eat
the hunger of the lost and forgotten
makes its way to the last heart beat
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Where Are You?
You placed in the drop
Of my thirsty rains
You waited for in the flight
Of my whirlpool birds
You settled in each
Restlessness word
You sacredly sphered
On my universe forehead
Where are you
Feed with peace
The walk of your hours
Ti nastanjen u kaplji
Mojih žednih kiša
Ti č ekan u letu
Vrtložnih mi ptica
Ti useljen u svakoj
Riječ i od nemira
Ti sveto zaokružen
Na č elu mog svemira
Gdje si
Mirom hrani
Hod svojih sati
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Sing/Pjevaj
Sing life to your restlessness.
Pjevaj zivot svom nemiru.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Whose footsteps/ Č iji koraci
Half starringly in the Moon halved die out
Like slaves between
A bitten silver coin and broken teeth
Spelling a silent whisper
b-r-e-a-d master
the games are over all of them
Č iji koraci
Poluzvjezdano okrunjenim Mjesecom odumiru
Ko roblje što izmeđ u
Izjedenog srebrnjaka i polomljenih zuba
Tiho šapatom srič e
H-lj-e-b-a gospodaru
Igre su gotove sve
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A guitar made of cords/Gitara od zica
Is for a blind the breakfast without a table
Within he ties the sound
Within he ties the fingers when he plays
A piece of bread to the sky that hardly eats
For a triptych of hunger raised
For a meal to the sky cut
Gitara od žica
Slijepom je dorucak bez stola
U koji veže zvuk
U koji veže prste kad svira
Pitavom nebu okrajak hljeba
Za triptih gladi uzgajan
Za obrok neba isjecen
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Some songs some words
Some stones cast behind
To find a way back
Through crumbs of bread ahead
It’s all I have and I think it’ll do
To find a place here for both me and you
To carve to eat
For a heart to beat
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Carry me
the whirl spinned leaf
the sandclocked glass
the short breath brief
and the rhythm blast
the stormed healed tongue
the winged splash of a bird
the song heard unsung
and the word whispered unheard
the passion burned unforgotten
the beauty spoken miracle touch
give it all to 'the only begotten'
Son of Earth you gave me too much
Copyright circle Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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My cellars were closed
The doors shut wept
No name on
My secret kept
Seep below a frozen ground
Stood silent like lips
Making no sound
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Dear Miroslava
I think you should relax
take some time off
and urgently start loving yourself
find new goals
good things to focus on
you dwell too much inside
it's good you're spitting things out
wow a great leap for someone like you
you might as well learn to let it go
might be a challenge you like
Sincerely yours
Miroslava
P.S. I know it all takes time for you. Perhaps it'll help
if I tell you you are not the only person in this world
who has problems. Your are trivial in the face of the earth.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Flesh given
Flesh given body driven
Worn out torn reborn
Bone sinking
Cluttering thinking
Clutched and strained
Endlessly clay refrained
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Seasons
Icy fingers of silver and blue
Make my aged body shiver and shake
I pray for springtime anew
Warm breezes release me from my frozen prison
Sunlight is a welcome radiant friend
Fragrant aromas arrise from the earth
And the skies fill with birds who ready for birth
Then the time for oppressive heat does arrive
Feels like hell but I am alive
Sweat pours from my body
Like a hydrant for fire
Soon leaves start to fall
Beauty surrounds me
In colors of red green and gold
But I start to shiver anew
Icy fingers of silver and blue
Are knocking at my door
Please begone Old Jack Frost!
With your cold grasp on my body and mind
Your not wanted in this neck of the woods
So begone!
Don't knock to peddle your basket of goods.
Oneness
In thousands of tongues the same song is sung
The same nest's a flight in sky to be done
Place them up and down between and among
Multitude of voices singing only one
In thousands of thoughts silent thinking climbes
Up the throne of possible to the throne of peace
Soul language circles body's silent mimes
Poem- body movement that will never cease
It's made in secret flesh burned in passion tides
It's sung on sacred lips clinging to the flames
The multitude tucked on perfect oneness hides
Divine revelation the Name of all the names
2010.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Games of cruelty
The question was crying in the corner
In spasm fingers casting
Delivery pains of questions
In a trembling body revealing
Tremors of a curse and grief
In fearful eyesight hiding
The loss of peace and hope
In shivering breasts beating
The loss of love and mourning
On frozen shoulders carrying
The landing of rainy wet wings
In an outstretched whisper begging
‘Please, let go of my hand'
The answer was laughing out loud
‘I am just yes or no
But who asked you anything? '
2010.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Look at the hands striking the clock
You time has emerged
A young dawn like grass of midnight
Blood born in veins through the poppy pain
Will bloom like the roses in your garden
Those roses for which you know
Are hearts transplanted of a moment choked
They open up to you in a smile
They leaf alike call your hands into the growth
And you by the window
You who hasn’t lost the hearts as yes
You cry into the night
With the time cracking from behind a built in panes
Towards you
Why
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The day and night are moving
through the cityscape billboards and landmarks
the benches in the park stand frozen alone
nothing sits them the way they sit despair
dead crumbs lying by the cigarette butts
city posts lights and a couple of open windows
like traffic signs of things directing too slow
each foot seems to be moving into
'where do we go? '
'uncontrolled movement into several directions'
flat screen tv will call it a 'situation'
I guess that's where we are placed
into a difficult, conflicting, conflicted 'sitting'
Copyright circled C Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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You cannot teach me
I paint the birds because they fly
And draw the windmills because they spin
I colour the hearts because they beat
And dance the dawns for what they are
I write the words because they speak
When silences spread I listen – you know
I listen carefully so as not to get mute
No one taught me that
I always knew
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Contentment
Bed and bread are all I need
In my happy day;
Love of Nature is my creed,
Unto her I pray;
Sun and sky my spirit feed
On my happy way.
To no man I bow the head,
None may master me;
I will eat my crust of bread
Lauding liberty;
And upon my truckle bed
Glory to be free.
You who grab for sordid gold,
You who fight for fame,
Shiny dross your fingers hold,
Empty is your aim.
--Soon we fatten graveyard mould,
Rich and poor the same.
So from world of want and woe
I retreat with dread;
Tuned to Nature glad I go
With my bite of bread:
Praising God I lay me low
On my truckle bed.
poem by Robert William Service
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Dream vision reality
Dream vision reality
Don't leave me as yet
In this broken space
Where to say a thing
Is merely a gift of time
Never to return
Сањај визију стварности
Не напуштај ме још
У овом простору сломљеном
Гдје речи било шта
Тек дар хе времена
Да се никад не врати
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A light born torch
In a single heart
My pen eating blue
A paper paling white
The means of all the skin
In the hear dying its ends
And eyes closing down
Make not a single sound
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Those things all left to nameless die
My body embraced in a single stone
Touching the surface of a plunge deep sky
To die there hard faceless alone
I wish I could have gone
Merged with shadows down
Die there with you stone
Bought by precious ground
But I had to live
And with all the nameless leave
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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