After being prompted by @Zornica Genova and @Miloslava to share more of my poems, I promised that I will post it on here, so here goes nothing. The first one is the one I recited at last night's graduation event Dreams I dreamt of your name on a different face, Still i knew it was you haunting my dreams night and day. I dreamt of rebirth and of you in a single night, Could it be that we will rise like phoenix from the ashes one last time? I dreamt of my dreams coming true, All in all I dreamt of you! And now for some of the graduation poems Tell me why Tell me why we have so little time Tell me why the world is of such design Tell me why there is pain Tell me why are we all chasing fame Tell me why we are here Tell me why my dear Success and failure Success and failure are both part of one's way, can last forever or just for a day As they both take turns, success grants us wings, but sometimes failure burns Nevertheless, life goes on pulling our strings. Rooftop A rooftop is a place to think, to gather your thoughts in the blowing wind, to let your mind flow into the starry sky, to watch the birds sing and fly to see the sun and the moon rise, to ask God for earthly advice. @Zornica Genova and @Miloslava I would love to hear your thoughts :) and everyone else's of course :)
The Miners of Chernobyl
Although they say that coal is but a diamond in the making, I know it's just a myth.
And still, hail all those darkest souls who do the break through
because it's easy shining if you're bright
but purest are those who shine without ever knowing light.
I wanted this piece to awaken your spirits, to be a fucking revelation. To leave you silent like a forest in the winter - heavy with purity and wisdom. I wanted you to think: “Damn, I should really start recycling!” Or something as important.
But the truth is that this piece was born amid cooking and potty training, born right on the dirty floor somewhere next to the cat vomit that our handsome vet treated and that cost us half our holiday in Greece.
This piece was born in haste like village women used to birth in the fields, impatient to go back to their spades. … And now I'm holding my piece in my arms - imperfect, small and wrinkled. But still, a piece of me. I am looking at it straight into its eyes that don't see me and wonder: “Will you grow up to change the world? You know what? Screw expectations! I'll love you as you are!”
And I don't care if you love it. It is mine and it is perfect.
But, please, recycle.
of my mother's womb
sharpened their wisdom
long before i was born
i need to smell their bright tracks
and call myself out
of my mother's womb * * * the pear fell away from its motherly branches wild seed of a fruitful era to come obsession toolbox i quit my nostrils delegate my underwear to the chimney-sweeper shed my eyelashes click the belly button to undress yet another underwater costume unfit exhale self-sacrifice is an outdated myth too long too used to hang on the dots of someone else's unfinished sentence * * * swift lizards running amok through the folds of the night foam through the horizontal frame of a borrowed sea gaze remind me: i have the map i need to follow the aftertaste of short explosions in the eyelids of long-departed ships body wit a blindfolded captain blames the unreliable ship that could bear just the treasures that are kept from its sight this dream keeps repeating and when the trousers of day unzip their messy cocktails i remember - my body’s the vessel i’m trying to blame