Love Is...

Love is not easy. 
Piece of cake? Hardly so. 
Love is tough 
and hard to swallow,


It is a pain, 
distant glory,
elusive and so far 
out of reach.


Yet love is like small, 
playful robin,
that sometimes would 
land on your palm and will sing.


There, somewhere,
there's secret power,
animating our lives 
during flight.


Love is enormous 
and also so simple - 
simply one look 
in your beautiful eyes.

Wings

I plan to be free
and to fly. 
Up in the sky 
where the moon's gently crying.


I want 
to be able 
to touch with my hands
little star.


I drew 
little picture
of wings that I made 
out of brass.


I crafted 
the pair
of wings
in my mind.


I went 
to the hill.
There I could see
all the sky and the stars.


I have attached then
those wings 
to my back 
with some nails.


I spread then
my wings
and attempted 
to fly.


And I flew 
for a moment...
adoring 
the bright little star in the sky.






  

Leap Of Fate

Following God
in his steps
He demanded  
to follow Him 
in the deepest of caves that exist.


Using no light
of my knowledge,
and transgressions committed  
I told Him "I can't".


"I see only darkness
in front and behind me,
I will fall on my face 
and I will break my neck"


"Close your eyes, 
listen to Me
and just follow" 
He simply told me 
and I did take a step.


And now I'm still  slowly  
and painfully falling
into the darkest 
and deepest abyss.

Come!

Come!
To my dreams 
and destroy them 
and laugh at me.


Torture!
My soul and my body 
- deservingly.


Tell me!
A story so horrible.


Punish!
My days 
and my nights 
and my sanity.


Leave me!
Not ever 
and follow me always... 
eternally. 


Provoke me!
And challenge my past 
and my memories.


Blame me!
You have 
every right to it.


Come to me!
Make me regret 
all my life  
even death.


Come to me!

My child’s eyes

Looking in your eyes

I’m fervently spiraling

down the deep

of your soul.

Melting down

the granite mountain –

my life that was

with violet fire of your sight.

One gentle smile

and I’m your servant,

until the end to serve the light.

I am the willow

that gives you shadow

when days are hot,

the sun is high.

I am the song

of gliding falcon

that’s watching over

your play.

Inside the bright

and motley rainbow,

you’re walking high

you always smile.

Tonight again

in your dreamscapes

I’ll come again

to bring you stars.

So we could both

weak up together

and walk throughout

the rainbow’s arch.  

Hope Swings

I’m waking up.

Another morning…

The rain is groping

gloomy threes.

Another day

is slowly crawling

upon the monochrome,

deserted streets. 

Just out of dark,

depressing dreamscape –

how much of suffer

is still ahead?

Then burst of life

from sudden laughter 

is pumping back

inside of me.

My daughter’s up,

the sin is rising,

outside a rainbow’s

glowing high.

The world is back –

now all in order.

”Hey daddy! Come! Today is

gonna be amazing day!”

A Good Luck Spell (For D.)

Wondering magic -

please come now to me.

In this life the good luck

I need now for me.

All heaven’s angles

I want now with me.

The dreams I am having -

they’ll grant them to me. 

United earth, fire

and water and wind -

give the desire

my heart wants for me.

Guardians of the land,

of the sun and the sea -

keep away harm

from my loved ones and me.

P.S.

Thank you for saving me! 

06/24/2012

Shadow (For I.)

When sad,

alone and broken hearted,

I walk into another dream.

The same old town,

another street side.

Again this blowing,

wistful wind.

With this cold wind,

there comes the shadow,

to overcome

my shadow still.

By now I know

this lonely shadow

is part of me

in dreams and out.

Sometimes we talk,

sometimes we whisper,

about the past

we both can't change.

“The memories are worse 

than bullets.”

I tell her slowly

how I feel.

And she agrees... And then, 
when living, she tells me

“ The loneliness

can kill you too.”

Life's Universal Wisdom

Did I misread

the life’s universal wisdom

somebody motley painted

on the concrete, wet, cracked wall?

Could I have spent

my life into a journey, 

following a prophet

who always was all wrong?

Sometimes,

when the rain is pouring,

I’m looking for an omen

in the hollow, weightless night.

Sometimes, 

when I am looking for a purpose,

the purpose’s looking

at me from behind.

And sometimes,

when everything has no meaning,

the shadows whisper

of the meaning of the life and of death.

Continuum

Walking slowly

down the hill –

the day is ready

for departure.

The empty street

that meets the beech,

is softly telling me

it’s story.

The sun is batting

now alone,

the people left

the beech already.

Will it tomorrow, when it’s born,

have memories

of the today

or visions of tomorrow?

Or is the memory

of this perfect day 
will be like words into the sand

that jealous ocean quickly swallows?

Eternal Beauty

                                                  (For Narcissus)

Narcissus came every morning

to a little, quiet lake.

Marveling his own beauty  

he was letting hours to pass by.

The gods got jealous and offended.

“Such beauty isn’t for this world”.

”He doesn’t pray and barely remembers

who gave to him this godly gift.”

“I’m absolutely gorgeous!”

one morning Narcissus yelled out.

His voice was still vibrating,

when he was drowning in the lake.

The gods had named,

as a reminder, a pretty flower after him.

And Narcissus is every flower

that never looks towards the gods.

“Narcissus, were art thou

dear Narcissus?”

the little lake was mourning

every day.

“You used to see him every morning”,

the sun once whispered to the lake.

“Was he so beautiful, so perfect,

as everyone was used to say?”

“Well, I haven’t really noticed”

the lake responded to the sun.

“Into his eyes - reflected,

I used to see how beautiful I am.” 

Delicate Disbalance

Where is that little path

that’s frivolously swinging

in the mountain in the dawn?

I can’t find it anymore.

Where are the bird songs

invocating memories

of time with no sins?

I can hear them no more.

Where the sun go?

From out the shadows

is the only light

that’s radiating.

From under a blanket of a cloud 
that is my time now

I neither sleep

nor I am awake.

Flamenco Tormento

Clap, clap, clap,

clap, clap, clap

palms clapping sharp,

shredding the night’s fabric.

Lash! Yellow light flash,

a guitar first burst.

The accords wild, loud –

rough, primal and violent.

Flash! The night’s first dance –

A woman’s mad trance.

A crimson gown long –

Flying in wild fire.

Her legs fly high,

her hands clap sharp.

The music’s her fight,

her torment, her life and her lover.

Spell On You

All the bad you wish

to my beloved and to me –

let it come back to you

three times by three.

All the bad you wish

to my beloved and to me –

by the law of the nine

you will get them three times by three.

All the bad you wish

to my beloved and to me –

now is with you!

So mot it be!

Mirage

Moaning, dancing 
in the desert, 
ceaseless winds
caress the burning sands.

Somewhere,
near the horizon 
thunder's rattling
heavy skies.

Lonely wolf 
is gloomily howling,
wasted time is 
passing by.

Nightmares,
dreamscapes  
are colliding,
without direction
in the sky.

I've closed my eyes
one winter morning
to fall asleep 
and never to come back.

Wandering forever
in the desert - 
dissolving slowly 
into a mirage.

Griefless

The words fall weak,

can’t grasp the sorrow,

they let me down -

in the abyss.

The visions thick

of past transgressions

communicate

with me instead.

In need of grief,

with tarnished feelings,

no word of mourning

comes to me.

I’ve lost my tears,

the well is empty,

I see the stars

from down below.

The spring is gone,

the summer’s over,

the autumn’s wrinkled face

won’t smile.  

And flooding up

behind my eyelids

the dew of past

won’t say goodbye. 

Words that bite

When your words
are your sole possessions
and even they turn into wolves
and bite into your very soul,


seize them in the bitter,
snowy morning -
make a sleigh
and turn them into your sleigh.


Then make a whip
and lash these wolfs
and make them labour -
to pull your sleigh and you your pain and your soul.


Force your words
and make them bitter
as bitter as your days 
as cold as your heart.


You work then hard
and pull together - 
you, your bitter words
and your wounded soul.


Survive today and live tomorrow, 
you own your words,
you words own you - 
your words are you.

Paradox... Is it?

Memories

like clouds of hatred,

pregnant, heavy

with a storm.

Life

can be a cruel prankster,

smiling bully,

petty thief.

Hurting

every single morning

tears slowly

welling up.

Time

is not a mercy healer -

sanity is 

but a choice.

Whispers,

words from cryptic verses,

spell the future

of the world.

Is the life’s

entire structure

built with blocks

of paradox?

Shooting A Dream

(To V. Lad)

So many choices  

yet uneasy is to decide on only one;

I have a dream

I am still not yet ready to shoot down.

Into my dream I fall asleep

and see the universal wisdom,

before I weak up…

I fall asleep again into my dream.

What is the point to see the wisdom…

If the concept is unconscious  

when one looks up

or one looks down below?

How one decides what’s true

not merely reflection,

when hell will end

and when the life will finally begin?

If dream

was even the inception,

the truth about the world –

another lie…  

Is it so simple? Or is it complicated?

Gun down your dream!

Don’t let your dream

to shoot you in the back...

Soul longevity

How many demons one can live with

and survive them, and have the power 

and the will to stay alive?

Pick up the pieces of one’s soul and

put them back together,

put on one’s clothes

and walk again into the dawn.

Pretend there has been  

never nothing broken

in one’s entire miserable life…

How many patches

souls could bear to be sewed,

before the broken pieces

are so many and so small,

that one more breakage

will be finally sufficient,  

for one’s poor soul 

to finally dissolve?

Just a bad dream (Australian Inferno)

An awful dream,

distorted vision,

I see destruction

and despair.

Like cracked, dry lips

the ground grey, broken

an oozing lava down below.

The trees, the grass,

all living creatures,

reduced to ash

by heat from hell.

I’m running wild,

inhaling fire,

the biting smoke

is gulping off my lungs.

The deadly droughts,

the forest fires…

We ate the world –

the world will slowly eat us all.

It was a dream -

just horror story…

where the earth

eats me alive.

The Second Prayer

Now you count to ten,

inhaling, exhaling.

Now close your eyes,

dissolving your thoughts.

Let the breaths

slowly smooth your tension –

mute the mutter of the

Wild Wired World.

See your eyes

in the dark cold reflection,

find the place

where your memories lie.

Feel the pulse

relaxing your body,

let the universe

inside your space.

Feel the night,

let it be your shepherd,

tomorrow to face

the next of your days.

Count to ten,

inhaling, exhaling,

nothing counts –

now you are at peace.

Deliverance

To L.

I saw you in dreams,

in wild fiction stories.

Your bright, pretty eyes,

and sweet dimpled smile.

When you have arrived,

after years of waiting,

the first time I saw you,

your beautiful face…

First, I have smiled,

then I have kissed you,

then, I’ll confess,

I even have cried.

Because, after all,

you’ve just been delivered.

You are my baby –

my life’s now complete.

Maktub

It is written -
all has been decided
in the onset
of the time.

It is written -
where all the desert sand grains
after violent storm
to fall.

It is written -
how I feel about the desert,
how the desert
fills my heart.

It is written -
on the faces of all oceans
in the language
of the dreams.

It is written -
in the light and in the darkness,
evil, good
and all between.

It is written -
the screams the whispers,
pain and laughter,
fire, wind that feed the pain.

It is written,
it’s been decided -
how all lives …
and how all dies.

It was written,
in the absence of all matter,
by the hand
that made it all. 

The Star With A Broken Heart (For D.)

No star

can shine

when broken hearted.

She barely

survives

on light from

other stars.

Until the love –

a handful

shining

moon dust;

can fall on her –

un-brake

her  lonely

and betrayed heart.

Slowly,

carefully and shyly

she then begins

to glow again.

Pulsating, gleaming

in the ether - 

she’s ready now

to shine again.

Look up

at her and touch her,

love her, 

say a prayer;

Remember 

that no star can shine

with broken heart.

"The medium is the message" (Dreams Haiku)

Herbert Marshall McLuhan, 
(July 21, 1911 – December 31, 1980)

1.
Two black kings
and no queens?
Is it an omen?
2.
How confusing 
are dreams.
How awful...
3.
Dreaming... I fly.
I weak up
wingless.
4.
Sometimes the night 
wants me be 
sleepless.
5.
I'am praying 
for dreamless
autumn nights.
6.
Realm of dreams...
Slowly waltzing.
7.
Music or screams
I hear 
while dreaming?
8.
Am I wake?
Are you 
in the mirror?
9.
Night and day 
melt... 
Into oblivion.

Nine Nights With Nightmares (A Sunset Haiku)

1.
The night
is slowly crawling
upon me.
2.
My hearth's frozen,
my soul's locked
in pain.
3
Patient demons
in dreams
wait for me.
4.
Are dreams
chains or
chains we are?
5.
Break the chain
or the chain
will break your neck.
6.
Go and fight!
You can win!
Go to sleep
7.
The demons
that hunt me
are not me.
8.
My fears -
my nightmare's
favourite food.
9.
Morning...
First coffee sip -
life goes non...

From Dusk Till Dawn (A Sunset Haiku)

"So long as we are being remembered, we remain alive"

Carlos Ruiz Zafon

(The shadow of the wind)

1.
The sun's up,
a little bird's
happy.
2.
Two little birds
dancing 
and kissing.
3.
So gracious 
the humming bird 
flight is.
4.
The pain of the earth 
is also 
my pain.
5.
Ten "I hate"
are less than one
"I love..."
6.
The rain 
loves the sun - 
a rainbow is born.
7.
A child's smile
makes the universe
turn.
8.
Glorious
sunrise - 
petty sunset.
9.
After the last 
sunset - 
nothing...

Nine Steps Down (A Sunset Haiku)

“Nothing is more frightening than a hero that lives to tell his story.”

                                                             Carlos Ruiz Zafon

                                              (The Shadow Of The Wind)

1.

Tears welling up.

I will not

see you.

2.

The universe’s

weeping –

I miss you.

3.

My pain

isn’t me.

I dive in it.

4.

Dark, red rose

Is the key

to all doors.

5.

There are

no doors down

in the desert.

6.

Ocean of roses

the mad sun

imposes.

7.

Is life

a mirage

in the desert?

8.

Oasis or

vision

I see?

9.

A dark, red rose

I bring –

you saved me.

Nine Happy Thoughts (A Sunset Haiku)

"God gives us life but the devil is the world's landlord."

                                                              Carlos Ruiz Zafon

                                               (The Shadow Of The Wind)

1.

“The Happiness

Project” –

that’s so sad!

2.

Perfect bricks!

Is the building

complete?

3.

A falcon

loved the sun.

Then it burned.

4.

When time’s

dragging -

the life’s empty.

5.

From inside - out

the quality

born is.

6.

From

outside-in

quality vanish…

7.

Quality

brings substance

to form.

8.

Breathe in and out -

Happy is

that simple.

9.

Happiness…

The pursuit’s

the door key.

Of Sunset Haiku And Verbal Paintings Made Of Exactly 81 Syllables

I love haiku. It feels to me like the short wakizashi sword in the hands of a samurai warrior who lost his long katana sword in a battle with more skilled swordsmen and is forced to battle an uneven fight.

Haiku can touch the reader’s heart in a quick, throbbing moment causing tears, sometimes a smile. Just like wakizashi that sends one’s soul to the creator with one last tear or with one last smile. I found this “weapon” exotic and I have tried to master it when I lost my own Katana. 

All knowledge came to the West from the East. Haiku came to the West where the sun goes down as an art form in the early 20th century and many have attempted to master it since. It came from the East where the sun comes from in the morning to travel to the West again and again.

I have experimented with haiku and came up with a form I decided to call “A Sunset Haiku”.  I use 3 lines of 9 syllables Haiku as a building stones. I incorporate them into 9 sonnets to integrate them in one, coherent “western-tradition” poem. 

Each sonnet of the poem can subsist separately as a haiku. All nine pieces combined, develop into 9 logically connected haikus, telling a story, transmitting a message or creating an image of a verbal painting made of exactly 81 syllables.

Sometimes I feel that the Sunset Haiku found me. I did not invent it. I just followed, so I could tell my stories in a new way. If one has something to say the style is of a secondary importance. I enjoy telling stories using the Sunset Haiku nevertheless.

Nine Flaps Of Wings (A Sunset Haiku)

“…what is really killing him is loneliness. 

Memories are worst than bullets.”

                                     Carlos Ruiz Zafon

                     (The Shadow Of The Wind)

1.

Chasm in front.

Darkness

behind me.

2.

I take that step –

I am flying.

Down.

3.

No bottom!!!

Endless

the fall down is.

4.

Shadow merciful

quick

brings relief.

5.

With shadows

my soul

is now flying.

6.

Here no time,

no sun

and no stars come.

7.

The dawn

is a memory

only…

8.

As a story

only

I do exist.

9.

Flying,

bottomless…

I am abyss.

Torturous

My soul is being

bended, twisted,

pulled, viciously tormented,

by the voices of the mad.

Their growling, 

desolated singing, 

moaning, screaming, 

their highly pitched barks;

Banging, clapping,

falsetto singing;

squatting figures

all around.

Throughout my mind

the motley colors,

my pierced brain

are tearing apart. 

Dead King – Immortal poet

(to Hristo Botev)

“O tempora! O mores!”

with sorrow he exclaimed,

and rightfully infuriated

was the poet who was shot.

In his immortal poem

where he was the king,

his angry words –

his loyal subject.

He armed his word

and gave them rifles,

and uniformed them,

so he can go with them in war.

Then, as a king,

of his domain

he led his words

into the battle,

so he could liberate

his long asleep

and dormant

country man.

The shot had sang -

the king had trembled,

the bullet kissed

his royal heavy head.

The king descended

with a bullet in his forehead,

and then ascended in the heaven

where the immortal poets dwell. 

Dance macabre (Eternal)

In room with 

dancing shadows,

where marble

glimmer in the dark,

and where 

shadowless musicians  

play on violins

made of stars,

you - the queen

with no reflection -

you take my hand -

we slowly dance.

And over darkest

mountain ridges

my battered soul

begins to fly.

.

What’s left of me   

bellow is waltzing

on dusty,

marble dancing floor.

I know that beat,

I’ve heard the music –

the melody of

wounded, aching souls.

Eternally antagonistic –

two pieces of one whole - forever now

are separated - I am the pieces 

of one body and a traveling in sadness soul.

The dance will never end, 

nor it has beginning.

I am the floor, the music 

and the shadows on the floor.

And so my soul will always travel.

The rest of me will dance macabre - 

lost in melody 

of wounded, aching souls.