Far Within Us #7
Toothed eyes fly
Over still waters
Around us purple lips
Flutter from branches
Screams hit the blue
And fall onto pillows
Our homes hide
Behind narrow backs
Hands clutch at
Flimsy clouds
Our veins roll turbid
Bed and tables
Of shattered bones
Noon has fallen into our hands
And turned all gloomy
An open grave on the face of the earth
On your face on my face
Trans. by Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Give Me Back My Rags
Just come to my mind
My thoughts will scratch out your face
Just come into my sight
My eyes will start snarling at you
Just open your mouth
My silence will smash your jaws
Just remind me of you
My remembering will paw up the ground under your feet
That's what it's come to between us
Trans. by Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Give Me Back My Rags #11
I've wiped your face off my face
Ripped your shadow off my shadow
Leveled the hills in you
Turned your plains into hills
Set your seasons quarreling
Turned all the ends of the world from you
Wrapped the path of my life around you
My impenetrable my impossible path
Just try to meet me now
Trans. by Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Far Within Us #2
Look here's that uninvited
Alien presence look it's here
A shudder on the ocean of tea in the cup
Rust taking hold
On the edges of our laughter
A snake coiled in the depths of the mirror
Will I be able to hide you
From your face in mine
Look it's the third shadow
On our imagined walk
Unexpected abyss
Between our words
Hoofs clattering
Below the vaults of our palates
Will I be able
On this unrest-field
To raise you a tent of my hands
Trans. by Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Far Within Us #3
Unquiet you walk
Along the rims of my eyes
On the invisible grating
Before your lips
My naked words shiver
We steal moments
From the unheeding iron saws
Your hands sadly
Flow into mine
The air is impassable
Trans. by Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Far Within Us #6
From the wrinkle between my brows
You watch till day breaks
On my face
The waxen night
Is beginning to singe
The fingers of dawn
Black bricks
Have already tiled
The whole dome of the sky
Trans. by Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Far Within Us #4
Green gloves rustle
On the avenue's branches
The evening carries us under its arm
By a path which leaves no trace
The rain falls on its knees
Before the fugitive windows
The yards come out of their gates
And stand looking after us
Trans. by Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Far Within Us #5
The nights are running out of darkness
Steel branches grasp
The arms of passers-by
Only anonymour chimneys
Are free to walk the streets
Which slice across our sleeplessness
In the gutters our stars decay
Trans. by Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Give Me Back My Rags #1
Give me back my rags
My rags of pure dreaming
Of silk smiling of striped foreboding
Of my cloth of lace
My rags of spotted hope
Of burnished desire of chequered glances
Of skin from my face
Give me back my rags
Give me when I ask you nicely
Trans. by Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Far Within Us #1
We raise our arms
The street climbs into the sky
We lower our eyes
The roofs go down into the earth
From every pain
We do not mention
Grows a chestnut tree
That stays mysterious behind us
From every hope
We cherish
Sprouts a star
That moves unreachable before us
Can you hear a bullet
Flying about our heads
Can you hear a bullet
Waiting to ambush our kiss
Trans. by Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Give Me Back My Rags #12
Enough chattering violets enough sweet trash
I won't hear anything know anything
Enough enough of all
I'll say the last enough
Fill my mouth with earth
Grit my teeth
To break off you skull guzzler
To break off once for all
I'll just be what I am
Without root without branch without crown
I'll lean on myself
On my own bumps and bruises
I'll be the hawthorn stake through you
That's all I can be in you
In you spoilsport in you muddlehead
Get lost
Trans. by Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Michaels Bones
Michaels bones
Lay where he fell
Face down on a sports ground
Oh ...
He was just somebodys luckless son
Oh, but now look what hes done
Oh, look what hes done
Your gentle hands are frozen
And your unkissed lips are blue
Your thinning clothes are hopeless
And no one was mad about you
Michaels bones
Were very young
But they were never to know
Oh ...
Impetuous fun
Mr. policeman
I dont know where you get such notions from
His gentle hands are frozen
And his unkissed lips are blue
But his eyes still cry
And now youve turned the last bend
And see - are we all judged the same at the end?
Tell me, tell me
Oh, you lucky thing
You are too brave
And Im ashamed of myself
As usual
Oh ...
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Give Me Back My Rags #4
Get out of my walled infinity
Of the star circle round my heart
Of my mouthful of sun
Get out of the comic sea of my blood
Of my flow of my ebb
Get out of my stranded silence
Get out I said get out
Get out of my living abyss
Of the bare father-tree within me
Get out how long must I cry get out
Get out of my bursting head
Get out just get out
Trans. by Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Shall Have These Hands That Shall Write About Hands....
must have i forgotten
from where all these come?
ah, i have read about your hands
and now i shall have to mind about mine
once i had these hands
whose name is
work and struggle and
sacrifice
they lifted rocks
outlined by Sisyphus
and roll them from
atop the hill
and put them again there
in senseless
labor
when i got reason
my hands began to think
as though they have brains
under their nails
these hands begin the
questions
grapple for answers
and got
no satisfaction
they dabble in poetry
trembling and tense and
looking for
a compromise for some
fetish
must have i forgotten from where
these hands come?
someone says these hands are from
the hands of God
whose hands hand what we do not have
in hand yet
these hands did what was wrong then
and covered the face of the
penitent and the remorseful
these hands that slap a face that
triggered a gunfire
that lay upon the hardened breasts
and held breaths
these hands that write now for you
face upside down not asking for anything in return
these hands that speak for you
as you turn your head for someone else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Glory Be
Waters flowing though my veins
Nothing ever stays the same
Waters flowing down my side
Turn the water into wine
Wheres the courage I once had
Wheres the strength I once possessed
To stand up tall and face the music
Laughing in the face of death
Heres a boy whose hands are bleeding
Though hes never had a scratch
Glory come and glory be
Waters flowing now at last
Chorus
Like a bad dream I once had where
Everyone but me knew something
Walking blind through the burning fields
The dead brigade is on my heels
They follow me--they follow me
Waters flowing though my veins
Nothing ever stays the same
Flows outside for all to see
Water flows through you and me
Nothing ever stays the same
Water turns to wine again
Drink the wine & eat the wafer
Lash the skin & scream together
Chorus
Bridge
Waters flowing through me
Cut me open--let me bleed
Silence is golden
(but) shout it out--shout it out--shout
Waters flowing through my veins
Nothing ever stays the same
Through eyes that once were blind with passion
Everything looks soft and grey
Without color or rough edges
Without fire to burn the skin
Without pride and without reason
Water turns to wine again
Waters flowing through my veins
Tell me now its all the same
Tell me that it doesnt matter
Tell me everythings alright
Chorus
Waters flowing through my veins
Nothing ever stays the same
Glory come and glory be
Glory come to you and me
Waters flowing through my veins . . .
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Conceited Mistake
Once upon a time there was a mistake
So silly so small
That no one would even have noticed it
It couldn't bear
To see itself to hear of itself
It invented all manner of things
Just to prove
that it didn't really exist
It invented space
To put its proofs in
And time to keep its proofs
And the world to see its proofs
All it invented
Was not so silly
Nor so small
But was of course mistaken
Could it have been otherwise
Trans. Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She Brought Them All Kindly To Her Grave
of course i know what coldness is
apart from something that is cool
when mother died her hands were extremely cold
for my hold
i let them go
there was no sadness
there was that happiness of letting her rest
and giving myself a little space
for tomorrow
when coldness comes again in an empty room
with open windows
i know not what panic shall be
my hands are extremely cold these days
when i kiss them
my lips become frozen
they break like glasses
i cannot speak
there is no way that my tongue shall give in to
words
it cannot face coldness in the mirror
of my face
since you ask and you demand an explanation i open my hands
and i let your hands touch them
i cannot speak i am afraid i will be cruel
you must hold these extreme coldness for a long time
so you can all let them go
like white birds against a dark sky
so you can also experience what happiness
i had when i let go off
mama's fears
when mama closed her eyes
because what was important she knew
need not be said anymore
she brought them all kindly to her grave
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Face of God
Someone asked; God what if we were to meet face to face?
What face would I see?
Would your eyes be slanted and blue?
Would you have a jewel in the middle of your forehead?
Would your noise be pointed or would it be flat?
Would your lips be thin or would they be full?
God what face would I see?
God answers with these words.
If we were to meet face to face here is what you would see.
Pick up a mirror and the face staring back at you is not only you it is also me.
Shards of the Cloud
The rumbling boom, vibrates all that is near the ribs,
The power of a storm, embarking over the land,
Drifting overhead eyes spot it coming, a cloud,
Dark, gloomy mists of crashing waves rise as a tide over the sky,
The arrival shades the earth with its somber tone,
Reaching to tell us what it has,
Its power,
We watch in awe as it overwhelms,
A flash beats,
Everything is flooded with the light,
Nothing left untouched by the white covering,
Then gone;
Following with the repetition of another Boom,
And the cloud falls in pieces, shattered,
The shards clash on the ground,
I walk beyond the frame of the door,
The shards prance on my head,
Bouncing as their kin at my feet,
I look to the covered firmament,
Upon my face the shards dribble and pounce,
I smile,
With correlation to my lips, my arms rise,
Fingers open,
As the shards of the shattered cloud fall,
They wet, everything and all,
This is the power of a cloud,
This is why it’s so proud,
Nothing from it can hide,
It is power,
It is water,
It is shards of clouds,
Breathing bliss into my life.
poem by Keel Lincoln
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Open
Do not hide in the living room
amidst the familiar and well thumbed
Open the door
Feel the air trace its fingers
along your face and hands
Open your hands
Breathe in
Open your eyes
Breathe out your
mark upon the day
poem by Diana Rosser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Like a dog like a man?
I shell speak your name
even in the dark night when death has its hands on me.
I will run until I have nothing left
Until I fall on my face
To the ground to stay
Where my face belongs
For how can I show
My unholy face to you?
How can
I even lift my
Hands to worship you
When there
is so much blood
On them.
And yet I am
Like I hunting dog that wants
More.
poem by Ergo Lehman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!