Naked

featured in the poetry forum July 22, 2011  :: 0 comments

My body is not perfect,
It has never been,
Time does not help either.
Still, I’m not bothered
When you see me naked.
Perfect or not,
I’m not ashamed.

It’s different with my poems.
Some of them I share with you –
Those where my pain
Is nicely combed,
My soul is covered with
Many layers of wrappings
Glued together by resin of laughter,
Placed into a painted
Sarcophagus of rhyme.

Other poems though,
Where my pain is
Unkempt and disheveled,
My soul is naked,
With ugly bulges of sorrow protruding
Beneath the worn out rags of illusions,

I may show them to somebody else,

Not to you, I don’t want you to see them.

A Man on the Stair

featured in the poetry forum April 6, 2011  :: 0 comments

First floor, second, up I run,
Here he is, the familiar man,
Always there, between
The second floor and the third.
Cracks in the stone stair
Portray him, visible only to me,
I never fail to meet
His eyeless stare.

Third floor, second, first,
Down I went, never turning back,
Continents away,
No regrets, no despair,
No cracks in the stairs,
I use an elevator today.

Why then if I drift
Toward the past,
To the shabby house
Of my childhood years,
The first face I see
Is him, always there,
Etched on the stone stair.
I never fail to meet
His eyeless stare.

How to Write a Poem – A Comprehensive Manual

featured in the poetry forum February 22, 2011  :: 0 comments

Take a sheet of paper, a pen, a pencil
Or stare into nowhere, aloof and pensive,
Close your eyes or wear a silly smile,
Sit down or walk at random for a while…

Now grab a thought, an idea, a distant notion,
Throw it away with a frustrated motion,
Pull out another inkling, you have a lot,
Settle down on something, an embryo plot.

Put together some words, arrange in a line,
Toss them around until they feel fine,
Hunt for images, powerful, poignant, fresh,
Implant them firmly into the poem’s flesh.

Then add your pain, loss, love, hope, fear,
Squeeze your soul to get something here,
Something palpable on this crumpled page –
Dig it from your heart, either joy or rage.

After your poem is sprinkled with blood,
Sparkles with mirth or is stained with mud,
Polish its surface slowly, without haste;
Consider adding irony by taste.

Read the poem aloud and cringe in dismay,
Tear it into pieces and throw away!
After a while gather the shreds again,
Revise once more with all due restraint.

Now show it to somebody you can trust
And do with it whatever you must –
Send to a publisher, hide in a drawer
Or simply go write another poem.

A Buried Dream

featured in the poetry forum January 4, 2011  :: 0 comments

Loading a dishwasher with plates,
Hanging shirts on a rope,
I do my best to appear relaxed
Mourning my secret hope.

A cleaning lady comes once a week,
The place stays neat for a day.
Returning from work I absently seek
To straighten the disarray.

In fifty years or hundred at most
Robots will do all the chores,
Cleaning and cooking for their host,
Preserving his time and force.

I can’t partake from the future fruit
No matter how much I strive.
I load the dishes and cook the food
And bury my dream alive.

Redundancy

November 4, 2010  :: 0 comments

“Nice poem.” the editors said.
“An interesting topic, but
What’s all this redundancy for?
Cut it out, we may reconsider.”

So you call it redundancy, well,
I thought it was a repetition,
Like a refrain, you know,
For an emphasis, an atmosphere.

I could cut it out, of course,
Made it shopping list style,
Brief and laconic and cold,
Everything just to the point.

Too bad you have redundancy too,
Legs, arms, eyes, all these
Pairs so plainly redundant.
You could do with one leg,
xxxcut
xxxxxxit
xxxxxxxxxout.

Oh, you are feeling attached
To your precious repetitive parts.
It would hurt, it would bleed,
It would make you a cripple.

Isn’t a poem too kind of
Like a living body?
It’s an old notion, I know,
Nowadays out of fashion.

Well, if you ever decide
To cut your redundancies off,
Dear editors, please, let me know.
I may reconsider.

Equation of Life

featured in the poetry forum November 4, 2010  :: 0 comments

With equation of life I stopped worrying myself for a while,
With its endless unknowns I am no longer concerned.
Other people’s solutions presented with vigor and style
I don’t read anymore, and my thoughts on the topic I burned.

Let them search algorithms and drown in interpolations,
Let them solve differential integral, wish them success.
I’ll take in every day I’ve still got with its joys and frustrations
Till my private equation achieves upper limit of … (guess).

Synopsis of the Lecture on Homer

featured in the poetry forum August 10, 2010  :: 0 comments

This is a lecture about Homer,
“Iliad” and “Odyssey” guy,
So, to the following questions
Today we need to reply:

Who was Homer?
Was he blind?
Is Homer one man or a number of people?
Is Homer a name or maybe it’s a profession?
Did he even exist?
And really, why do we care?

I change my answers every year
According to the latest finds.
At the moment, as far as we care,
The following picture transpires:

Who was Homer?
Nobody knows.

Was he blind?
Perhaps.

Is Homer one man or a number of people?
There is no consensus.

Is Homer a name or may be it’s a profession?
Could be any of those.

Did he even exist?
Most likely.

And really, why do we care?
It’s all about eternal topics,
This Iliad and Odyssey stuff.
Be sure to read these immortal epics.
I think I told you enough

The Power of Word Usage

featured in the poetry forum May 21, 2010  :: 0 comments

He took a dictionary and
Dug out a bunch of words.
They were long, unusual,
They stuck between the teeth,
Learned, over learned words
Not for an everyday usage.
abecedarian,
bibliopegy,
contumacious,
dermatoglyphics…
He searched and he found many.

He arranged the words in lines,
From these lines he shaped a free verse.
The poem looked very impressive –
Sullen academic kind,
IQ was bursting from it
In words long and brain breaking.
He felt sick but he did not buckle
Under the intellectual weight of the poem.
epiphenomenon,
fugacious,
gemutlich,
horripilation…
He wanted to be published so badly!

He cornered a friend and read him
This cleverly crafted poem.
The friend exclaimed “Amazing!”
And hastily went into hiding –
Extremely encouraging sign,
This must be a powerful writing!
Indeed, very soon it was published
In a serious poetry journal.
It is now on his wall in a frame,
He feels proud and self important.
idiopathic,
jackanapes,
Kafkaesque,
legerdemain…
Long live the power of word usage!

How to Read a Newspaper – A Comprehensive Manual

featured in the poetry forum March 27, 2010  :: 0 comments

First of all, are you really sure?
Do you want THAT MUCH to know the news?
Are you indeed willing to endure
Pages on pages of death and abuse?

It’s not too late, you can reconsider,
Come on, throw the newspaper away.
Well, if you are a determined reader
Proceed with this manual, OK.

Take a deep breath and plunge into pages,
Scan the titles, don’t linger on any text,
Crisis, gunmen, fraud – it’s all OUTRAGEOUS,
But really, what did you expect?

Wars, insurgents, hunger, kidnapping –
International news, don’t be surprised.
At this stage you may feel UNHAPPY –
But being updated has its price!

After all it’s not on your doorstep,
It may reach you, but not today.
May be it’s only journalists gossip…
Keep pretending it’s FAR AWAY.

Local news, not much better here –
Budget cuttings, pollution, drugs…
Take another deep breath, you hear?
Yes, the newspaper really SUCKS.

So, do you feel worse every moment,
Your blood pressure rising like hell?
Don’t be afraid, it’s perfectly normal,
You are supposed to be UNWELL.

Sometimes you may be really lucky
To stumble on positive news! You MUST
Concentrate there, it’s highly unlikely
That the positive news will last!

You made it safely through all the pages –
Take another deep breath, RELAX.
Hold the newspaper firmly by the edges
And give it to somebody else.

You may feel a certain SATISFACTION
When another victim goes through the news –
Don’t worry, this is a natural reaction
When others suffer and not only you.

But be realistic, don’t count on this –
It may not work, please be aware:
No matter how dreadful the newspaper is
Some people
JUST
DON’T
CARE.