The beginning of mountains
this is how silences wedded me
in the drums aflame I was beating
deaf for the voice which
coming from the wind
leafs out the ends of autumns
pulls the strings of the sky
where it is enough to live
on an accord of a lonely breath
in the corner of the words squatted
a voice was praying
a leaf cut off from the autumn gown
sewed the edges of all the seasons
hit the universe forehead
against the cold soil of waiting
its echo my bridegroom
hand in hand we winged are
a painfully delivered beginning of mountains
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Related quotes
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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Forever and hard
You eye
Deaf mute
You blind crying
You blast
Cruel you to dust
Executor hand
You crost
Be praying
Dying me
Night for a day
Forever and hard
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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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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When a little girl saw Rodin's Thinker
she got quite worried about it
asked so many questions
why does he keep his hand on his forehead
will he ever be able to remove it from there
how will he walk with that hand on the forehead
does he have a temperature
why has Rodin done this to him
who is Rodin when will he sculpt again
and what are they both thinking about
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Accord
Accord
Step splintered walk through the sun
Who drew those feet like two lonely leaves
That never heard for each other
By a rootless tree
Who blew the wind
Into the sight of those
Black ashen eyes spreading over
The water that rests in a Sunday morn
Who tied that hair
And with which hands
Which fingers dragged
The ties into naught.
Accord
Like an accord of the distant music
Spreading horizons into merging hues
Splitting earth sky border
Who forgot
This thin line thinning even more
Up to the point of not ever being recognized
But still somehow breaking the heart
Once in accord
Reconciled?
©Miroslava Odalović
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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Hounds of hurts and sounds of silence
Blind blood bound in blasts and bursts
Hundred a hound hunts in hidden hurts
The lip bloom slips the snow's slope embedded
Wept in white whispers time wound and wedded
A hello to hollows is holiness still heard
Beating in the blasts burning in the blood
Shimmering ashes by silent shores ensured
Foes to frightful fight of feverish floods
Ashes wash the wounds wipe away the weeds
By a sky-lark melody down the lily lakes
The sweetest singing in silence sewed seeds
A sewer-seer's secret this melody makes
2010.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Quatro Stagione
the autumn is the wedding
of a leaf and wind
the winter is the wedding
of the white and flake
the spring is the wedding
of a bloom and water
the summer is the wedding
of seasons that make
each year of a heavenly disguise
a place to beauty rise
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Fading Shades of Gray
An autumn leaf descends toward a fire—
Slowly, like a feather in the soft wind.
Dehydrated, its orange body is crisp
And brittle enough to crumble in hand.
In the past few weeks, the branches above
Have grown barren—so quickly they have thinned—
And the brisk air has become harsh and cold
As if to say nature's warmth must expire.
What was once green covers in the thick smoke
That pillows up from the crackling land.
The smolder of time takes each fading shade.
Orange becomes red and black edges expand
‘Til the veins flow gray. The leaf, ashen-skinned,
Becomes the dust of seasons to transpire.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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If I am the dropp the morning conceived
Let me be that water oh beautiful
That comes to your lip and makes you heart speak
That leaks through its holes into the world
Where the world is but a place to be
Next to your smile and close to your hand
Hugging the edges of dawn
Hear me there say the moment will rise
To time void of flow and eyes void of tears
In memory blue at the door of paradise
©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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She said her name was written in the trees
That swayed among invisible boughs
Some barren ink spilled the paper was mute
But she never cried never over that
Environments white long chased through the woods
Landscapes horizons the measure of a flight
She leafed through the words
To see what’s between them
The links and borderline chimes -oh yes -she sang
In silence as the forests were deaf
But she never cried never over that
She set a grave stone mark a life sworn token
Resting its heights on impossibility costs
Because
She lived in the mountains
And slipped through its fangs
The sharp ice air to breathe
She begged by water fountains
The richest being in rags
A child with wind to conceive
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Yes you may take
Yes you may forsake
All the words are ready at hand
And you may spit
And say ‘that’s it-
I’ll pour my hours down the sand’
And you may kill
What’s at your will
And self eat the fire swords
But then do not ever try
To winglessly fly
On strings and broken cords
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Go out, it is cold.
If you don’t remember how I used to kiss you
Take a look at the willows by the road
Whispering behind your steps
Unheard awakening with the hands by you
The touches made hand printed into your oblivion
Take a look at the waves breaking
A name rock chiseled on the threshold of love
And at the foam that used to kiss your feet
Take a look at the door opening
That thirsty for your steps stood waiting for so long
And at the doormat that so often you stepped on
There are the traces of my warmth underneath
A welcome that I am saving from you
Go out, it is cold.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A myth about the origin of evil
And satan said:
‘Let there be a lie! ’
And there was a lie.
It hid in the stones
Sliding from above.
And satan said:
‘Let there be hypocrisy! ’
And there was hypocrisy.
It hid in the words
Waiting to speak up.
It covered itself with cobwebs
Spiders to feed.
It hid itself from itself.
And satan said:
‘Let there be poison! ’
And there was poison.
The devils waving their swords
Spilled it from a stormy breath.
It layered on the earth
To run with its currents.
It hid within the blood.
And satan said:
‘Let there be hatred! ’
And there was hatred.
It spilled all around
Like blood that cannot clot.
It walked in tigers’ paws
And hid itself in the end
Under the cold mossy north.
And satan said:
‘Let there be a human! ’
And there was a human.
He hid in the hypocrisy and lie
The poison of hatred fed him like milk.
A pirate wrapped in his sails.
And there was a human
In beasts he hid.
And satan said:
‘Let him think I am not! ’
But it was not the way he said.
There was a lie in the beginning of his word.
Written in 1989 reconstructed in 2012.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Forever Autumn
The summer sun is fading
As the year grows old
And darker days are drawing near.
The winter winds will be much colder
Now you're not here.
I watch the birds fly south across the autumn sky
And one by one they disappear.
I wish that I was flying with them
Now you're not here.
Like the sun through the trees you came to love me
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away.
Through autumns golden gown we used to kick our way
You always loved this time of year.
Those fallen leaves lay undisturbed now
Cause you're not here.
Cause you're not here.
Cause you're not here.
Like the sun through the trees you came to love me.
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away.
A gentle rain pours softly on my weary eyes.
As if to hide a lonely tear.
My life will be forever autumn
Cause you're not here.
Cause you're not here.
Cause you're not here.
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tell me how you step into your name
In a silent change of paths
That always leave your steps on a threshold
In the lockedness of name
Easily like a deer
Taming a world within his horns
Painfully like a bee leaving the sting
To its foe
Who flies away to die alone
And which is even more important
With whose name on you lips
Will you step out of your naming
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Into the heart (Nafaka)
Within the mists beyond the edges of dawn
I will begin the song of love
The sunshine will be inside
A dandalion blown in the breath of daybreak
The blue of my hometown bay
The speechless fish in a water castle
The night will settle down
Across the black sparkling gown of the sky
I will begin the song of love
The stone will be inside
It’ll sing the fullness of sense
A butterfly will be inside
It’ll sing the length of its own flight
My own waiting I will sing
The Moon will emerdge on the edges of the sky
I will begin the song made of love
A grain of sand will be inside
It’ll fall in love with the mountain
A dropp of water will be inside
Inexpressibility it’ll glitter
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Measuring/Premjeravanja
The length of the word ‘hand’ depends on the circumference of the slap.
Duzina rijeci ‘ruka’ zavisi od opsega samara.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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