Monday, April 1, 2019




I knocked at your mind.

Let me in - I asked
I have brought you something,
My  crazy thoughts and dreams,
The works collected from
The sources of creativity.
Look how pretty they are,
Even the smallest ones…
Smaller than grains of sand.

I do not want them - you answered
My world is sterile,
Arranged and known.
Your every written poem
Can ruin my calm,
Which was built over years.
The recognition can be painful
Because of its insolence and ignorance.
The questions wake up the sleeping fears.
I prefer to stay safely in
Well - known loneliness


It is a pity that I cannot buy a new soul.
In supermarkets, there are no special offers
- New Soul! On sale!

The old one is dysfunctional.

It is much easier to have a simple vision of the world.
Keep your feet on the ground and don’t have dreams.

Being greedy protects the heart.
Life has a physical dimension. Ideals hurt.

Gain a prominent place in the rat race,
Dispose of sentiments, tears.

My soul is able to forgive.
It cannot learn to trust again.

It says it does not enter the same river twice.
Unreasonable? Perhaps.
It does not listen to reason.
It pulls away from people


We pass each other nearly every day,
Distance of fear between us.
Life forces us to mutual disregard and acceptance.
At times, like an unruly child, she will spoil something,
To garner attention, to arrest with a gesture.

I see her in the wind, which carelessly
Turns over the withering leaves
And standing proudly erect in stalks stiffened by frost.
She paints shriveled trees gray, breaks limbs with a crack.
She is mute in the clenched throats of birds,
She stares with glassy eyes.

She is all-around and she reminds us of her presence.
She patiently explains the meaning of certainty.
I know she does not allow us to take anything,
When she plays the requiem and invites eternal sleep


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