Leaving To Lira
Unknown wise men
foretold me
leaving to Lira
in beautiful dreams
through lights
of celestial jewels
randomly spaced
through the universe
blessed with a
magic word
a cosmic twinkle
awoke in me
lit up and
sparked my imagination
the gorgeous
North Star
ardently counts
down for a departure time
flocks of
phoenixes followed me
bringing light
to hidden corners of the universe
in the eye of a
female initiator of light
passion flared
like fire
in maidenly eyes
somebody put off
Diogenes’ candle
I was blinded
and could not see a man anywhere
someone faked a
dream
Lira is
unattainable
Nothing is
violet
To Nurture Or Not…
Hector’s mother
Hecuba
gave birth to
nineteen sons
and several
beautiful daughters
and she was the
luckiest woman
her happiness
was short-lived
Troy was
destroyed
and Hecuba
became the unluckiest woman
Hecuba,
Odyssey’s slave
settled in
history
there has always
been someone to ruin the universe in me
and I could
never connect
all the bright
points on the earth's wounded skin
does this day
hurt you in my heart
and does my
heart hurt you on this day
on which some
new Troy is burning
in the name of
the Creator of worlds
He, the Creator,
is powerlessly silent
in some far-away
corner of the universe
waiting for a
man to nurture a man
according to his
standards
if we never meet
don’t regret it
it is not a
result of anyone's conspiracy
it is a sign
that the roads between our ruins
have been
destroyed by the guards of war
they do not
believe in sin
they do not
believe…
that Power is
not forever
but Hecuba would
again give birth to nineteen sons
and several
beautiful daughters
and believe that
she would save Troy
Recognition
When I become
lost in a poem early in the morning
stars extinguish
spontaneously in my eyes
darkness hides
in its secret chambers
I become a
stranger to myself and my sleeping shadow
no one reaches
me, except the night silence
cradled in
flashes of stars from my eyes
and the dreamy
chant of night butterflies
enigmatic
horizons curl up in my eyes
in the mirrors
of the planet Gamajata
I do not like
mirrors
they show me
someone else in my image
It is very easy
to recognize a man by his words
and his
endeavour
in a triangle
between heaven, earth, and me
everything is
hidden in view
I am deciphering
the stability of everything and nothing
my first morning
coffee cooled down a long time ago
I am silent and
listening to silence, in my stillness and in peace
Nirvana
IBRAHIM HONJO
IBRAHIM HONJO is a Canadian
poet-writer, who writes in Bosnian, and English language. He has worked as an
economist, journalist, editor, marketing director, and property manager. He is
currently retired and resides in Vancouver, BC. Honjo is author 24 published
books in Serbo-Croatian Language, 7 books in English, 3 books bilingually (in
English and Serbo-Croatian language). In addition, 4 joints’ books of poems
published with Serbian poets. His poems have been represented in more than 60
world anthologies, and in more than 40 magazines. Some of Honjo’s poems have
been translated in 17 languages. He received several prizes for his poetry.
No comments :
Post a Comment