The birth of a poem...

The essence of very tiny detail, like a carefully placed comma, or an invisible sigh of admiration, distilled into dewdrops sliding over the long green leaves that protect tulips from overexposure, redeeming the beautiful bold color and adding a dimension of its own.

Then letting it go into thin air, like a weightless particle,arriving in far-away places, like a carefully thought-out idea, a blissful singular event, a flash of infinitesimal brightness, arriving at noon, completely negating shadows and at the same time completely absolving them.

The reign of calm arrived with these words and it is here to stay...



Saturday, October 26, 2013

Home

This ship needs a safe haven
Before it sails the seven seas again
This soul needs resting
These eyes need to drown into deep clouds
To anchor the wandering mind
To save the thoughts from drowning.
This heart needs to live and breathe
It's not monotonous. It's compulsory.
Think heartbeat.
The simple rhythm in complex patterns
Giving life. Giving hope.
This ship needs a harbour and a quiet sea.
This soul needs that feeling
When you're safe, when you're free
When you know you've arrived home.


Saturday, October 12, 2013

Poetic Contemplations

There’s only one way to live: to accept life as a beautiful gift and to treat every day as a miraculous wrapper; not to wake up with a burden on your shoulders, thinking life is too long.

Beauty can only be appreciated in peace. True, complete, inner peace. A miracle in itself? It takes time to achieve peace, serenity, acceptance- as long as it takes to accept yourself for who you are, without external clouded judgments or false, unnecessary endorsements.

It’s hard, but I am writing this to make it less so. I know a positive thought when I see one and if I write it down, maybe, just maybe it will turn into a bee instead of a butterfly, and maybe sweet honey will eventually drip my way. The alternative is a short- lived dead end, disastrous, desperate, and pointless.

There’s no reason to go back and explaining why or why not.

And you only live once, you are not born wise and sometimes revelation strikes when you are old and when it’s too late to plan anew. Precious little moments of creativity and inspiration, that’s why I am writing, because that’s how I save myself some time.

You see, I’d like to reconstruct my life. This is how some things should be: accepting, but also changing to the best of my ability.


-ME- becomes the keyword. And there’s a major change, for sure.