Monday, June 1, 2020



The Streets Belong To Silence

The streets belong to silence
As the people hibernate in a thick cocoon of boredom
Their jealous glances scanning the landscape for signs of hope
And the animals arriving from the world's shadows
Emboldened by an absence of the human noise
New York is eerie sans Broadway's explosive cacophony
The empty buses crossing town more out of habitude
Deserted by the population, like the dinosaurs of another era
The wooden boards blocking views of glass vitrines
Leaving their innards in the twilight of obscurity
Neon lights in a total dissonance with reality
Ads flashing, selling nonsense to no one...the theaters closed
Carnegie hall in a bewailing hiatus without music
Met opera stands quietly, raped by unfortunate events
In the muffled posture of a soloist who lost his voice to a cold
Only at night the city shows its true nature
The pots and pans proclaim the gratitude for first responders
On windows, hearts and flowers for tired, scared nurses
And then again, silence, the city slips into the night's pajamas
Hoping , it was only a temporary nightmare the morning it will be over
We eat our breakfast, dress and walk in a park without fear


The sky absorbs yearnings of the human mind
Disposing them in the aloof negligence of the forgetful traveler
Through the clouds, moving constantly without structuring alignment
Through the rain, washing away the memories of the past and present
The sorrows , pangs of vanity just melt , leaving no trace
Giving space to the new outbursts of the complex human psyche
All disappears in the immensity of blue welkin borrowing our sentiments
Not caring if we live or die before its unsympathetic eyes
A motley of emotions flying high like lost kites
Evicted from our bodies sans the return tickets
The sky accepts, but only temporarily, as payment for a pass
Musing not for personification
It stares at us from fastigium
Our deeds, our faults, our victories
It saw our wars and degradation, starvation and annihilation
So many over the millennia that the indifference became the norm

Beauty Does Not Wait
For The Gloom To Fade Away

Beauty does not wait for the gloom to fade away
As nature wakes up under the first signs of warmth
Giving the trees festive dresses to attend the ball
The pink magnolias emerge from the winter sleep
Nothing discomfits the natural cycle of life
Stops the wheel rolling even if pandemic invaded its territory
The august skirts of petals worn by the flowers
Taking over the senses without asking permission to intrude
Bringing a smile to the lips, forgetting how to enjoy the little moments
The passing ambulance signals the trouble, maybe death
Hardly any other cars travel on the roads to nowhere
Yet, the birds are in a cheerful mood, discussing the newcomers on the trees
The forsythia blinds the eyes with too much yellow tone
Loudly calling for attention, surrounded by her demure companions
The daffodils bow their heads, too shy to look at the sun directly
And the crocuses lead the way for other flowers to appear
The royal purple, gentle lavender, virgin white, boisterous yellow, cream
An alluring charm of the dames looking for their dancing partners
No shadows of misfortune can stop music to proclaim the hope


MARGARET GUDKOV was born in Moscow in the Soviet era as a teenager and has been a US citizen and New York resident for many years.  Poetry has always been a significant part of Russian culture, and successful poets are much-respected there. Margaret’s experience growing-up in that culture gave her a love of poetry and a desire to express her own thoughts and feelings through poetry. Later, her extensive travels as an adult, primarily in Egypt, India, and Europe, greatly enriched her poetry. Margaret is the author of several books of poetry, including The Four Seasons of Life, and Her Body Emitted Butterflies, and was a contributor to two poetry anthologies, “Ripples: Friends In Verse” (principal author Jackie Summers), and “Enchanted:  Love Poems and Abstract Art”, all of which are available on Amazon. Margaret operates a poetry site on Facebook, “Bleeding Heart” and co-administers with poet Rodney Drought, their poetry group “Port Of Call”, also on Facebook.  Margaret speaks three languages, Russian, Italian, and English.  She is an avid learner of the healing arts, and currently is learning the mystical powers of crystals and essential oils. Margaret collaborated with her Brazilian friend Pedro Eleftheriou, on a “New Age” music CD recorded at the renowned Abbey Road studios in London, by writing poems that appeared in the included booklet, to enhance the instrumental pieces.

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