Summer pleasure or the tears? It’s up to you, my dear reader. In both cases, it’s only love… A moment when we become one with the nature or a moment when we become one with ourselves.
Sometimes, the unconditional love is to let things go. Those rare moments when we face with a strength and depth of our own souls.
tail of paper kite
moves away from the open palm
getting lost in clouds
drop by drop
down the window
Linked to Haiku Horizons prompt “drop”
He goes a couple of steps back, admiring his new masterpiece. A deep sigh, then a look to the starry sky, as if he’s waiting for approval. One hand in his pocket, dragging the fingers of the other one through his gray hair. A slight smile like a flirt with the stars. He’s still handsome and attractive. Years drawn on his face give him some kind of a special charm. Loved and desired by the countless women, he is still happiest alone with his canvas and a brush. That’s when he can be with her. In his imagination. And he feels that she knows that too. He knows that, every time she winks from above with a blink of a star.
saved in the starry sky
Prvo pravi nekoliko koraka unazad, diveći se novom remek-delu. Sledi duboki uzdah, pa pogled na zvezdano nebo, kao da čeka odobrenje. Jedna ruka mu je u džepu, dok prstima druge prolazi kroz sedu kosu. Blagi osmeh, kao da flertuje sa zvezdama. Još uvek je zgodan i privlačan. Godine iscrtane na njegovom licu daju mu neki poseban šarm. Voljen i željen od nebrojeno žena, još uvek je najsrećniji kada je sam sa svojim platnom i četkicom. Tada može biti sa njom. U svojoj mašti. I on oseća da ona to zna. Siguran je u to, svaki put kada mu namigne odozgo treptajem neke od zvezda.
trepere ljubavne zakletve
sačuvane u zvezdanom nebu
Linked to Haiku Horizons prompt “swim”
How do you imagine my imagination? And how my words appear in the kaleidoscope of your thoughts? I wonder, because what you see is not me, but you. What attracts you to me is a part of you. When you run away from me, you run away from yourself. But these backpacks that we carry on our backs are full of our own little things, so we sometimes walk out of step and collide. Never mind, the wind is always here to bring us back on the right road. Sometimes it just tickles the new born petals and sometimes it wakes the withered leaves, but every time it’s about dance. So, turn the silence into the music and take a step on the dance floor!
in the spring breeze
ah, that silence!
I died once, you know?
And then I was born and I killed you.
Forgive me, I didn’t know better.
I forgot everything.
Every tear dried from the inside
and a pain of the frozen feet
in front of your door.
Every glance at the stranger
who reminded me of you a little.
And a word that I stole
from your lips in a moment
I have forgotten.
So no, I won’t return an oblivion!
I was searching for you, I admit
along the gloomy boulevards
and the gardens of the metropolitan hotels.
You have never been there, never.
That’s why I deleted you from the diaries.
Sorry, I didn’t know better.
I forgave you all your sins
then put them in the chains of evil
so I could start hating you.
But I haven’t. I never have.
I keep forgiving over and over again.
Sorry, I don’t know better.
Umrla sam, znaš?
A onda se rodila pa ubila tebe.
Oprosti mi, nisam umela bolje.
Sve sam zaboravila, sve.
Svaku suzu iznutra osušenu
i bol promrzlih stopala pred tvojim vratima.
Svaki pogled upućen strancu
koji je bar malo podsećao na tebe.
I reć koju ti ukradoh sa usana u trenu
Ali ne, ne vraćam ti zaborav!
Tražila sam te, priznajem
po sumornim bulevarima
i baštama velegradskog hotela.
Nikada nisi bio tu, nikada.
Zato sam te izbrisala iz dnevnka.
Izvini, nisam umela bolje
Sve grehe sam ti davno oprostila
pa sam ih kovala lancima zla
ne bih li počela da te mrzim.
Ali nisam. Nikada nisam.
Praštala sam ti iznova i iznova.
Oprosti mi, ne umem bolje.
odjekuje pod štiklama
Linen flutters in the wind like a flag
Symbols of the past, childhood and dreams
Scent of fabric softener spreads all over the yard
The midday sun reflects in her glasses
Curls on a short, gray hair don’t move in the breeze
Voices and the children’s laughter on the street
Football ball flies over the roofs
Black mustaches, in the Clark Gable style
Big smile that reveals a row of his white teeth
I put my cheeks on the eiderdown of the small
yellow chickens, hatched last night
People come and go, without retention
Everything smells of joy and innocence
Then a picture of me staring at the sky
Cold and rainy April night
I send the greetings on the wings of my thoughts
Hope that they’re really somewhere out there
never lives me
I miss you so much
behind the veil
hint of a bride’s rosy lips
Linked to Carpe Diem #1186 Hazy Moon (Oborozuki)
I’ve come this far, taking them both into the pockets of my jacket and pulling them out alternately. Sometimes, I get confused and pull out the wrong one at the wrong moment or on the wrong place. I admit, I prefer the sleepy one, with her head in the clouds and a kind word for everyone. Who wouldn’t? But I also respect the other one. She is so logical and pragmatic and often more successful than the first one. They are never alone, nor together. And me, I’m the real artist on a wire, trying to balance and keep them both in my pockets.
quick glance at the Sun
then at the Moon
We learn, every single day of our life.
Sometimes we need someone to wake us up and remind us of who we are.
Sometimes we just need to wake someone up.
Sometimes it needs to be mutual.
Some lessons are too hard to understand immediately.
In a time, usually in a strange moment, when we don’t expect it, one inosent thought wakes another without any intention and suddenly everything becomes so clear.
We live and we learn.
between me and the Moon
Thoughts about you sketch the spring on a wall of my room.
I write verses on the butterfly’s wings and hide them
into the sleeves of my nightgown, still warm of a dream.
You send me your touch on the white feathers
drawing love on my dreamy pillows.
Thoughts about you tease the restless fingers
tapping invisible messages on our screens.
Therefore, please don’t be angry if I leave you waiting
while I act occupancy with myself.
Thoughts about you wake up the sleepy morning,
with a hope in today.
I send you my smiles wrapped in the April sun.
I kiss your neck with the wings of a breeze
feeling your hands on my hips while I walk.
Thoughts about you give a birth to the yearning for distance.
I search for you in the other lives – past and future.
on a blue canvas
Misli o tebi slikaju proleće na zidovima moje sobe.
Na krilima leptira ispisujem stihove koje skrivam
u rukavima spavaćice, još tople od snova.
Šalješ mi dodire na belim perima
crtajući ljubav na sanjivim jastucima.
Misli o tebi zadirkuju nemirne prste kuckajući
nevidljive poruke po našim ekranima.
Zato, molim te, nemoj se ljutiti ako te ostavljam
da čekaš dok glumim zauzetost sobom.
Misli o tebi bude usnula jutra nadom u danas.
Šaljem ti osmehe umotane u aprilsko sunce.
Ljubim te u vrat krilima povetarca dok osećam
tvoje ruke na svojim bokovima hodajući gradom.
Misli o tebi rađaju čežnju za daljinama.
Tražim te po drugm životima – prošlim i budućim.
na plavom platnu
trešnja u cvatu
I used to think that the wisdom comes with age, but I was wrong.
Have you ever noticed how the same old unwanted situations repeat over and over again? And you blame that unfortunate star under which you were born and the fate which was never on your side. Same bad things always happen to you, as a rule – same jobs, sad love stories, false friendships …
Well, it is not!
When you start to absorb the wisdom and look within yourself instead at your reflection in the mirror, you will realize that everything is a big challenge and you’re constantly on the test. Somehow, every time when you’re at the height of your joy and happiness, the old well-known situation jumps out in front of you . How do you react? It depends on how far you’ve come on the way of wisdom and self-knowledge.
What about me? I still have to learn a lot, but at least I figured out where the trick is!
drop by drop
all the sadnees from the sky
river takes away
Linked to Carpe Diem #1182 drop of rain
Look to the left, can’t you see me on your side?
Even when the cold wind breaks through the gentle skin
your silence whispers a lullaby to me.
Trying to be more professional but my English still sounds funny 🙂
Globe and the binoculars, roses in bloom and a few butterflies, old fashion bicycle and a red double-decker bus, one clock and me. Me in my dream.
Throughout the day, coded messages pop up on the mobile phone. Numbers instead of letters – 1111:77, 1331, 1333, 1414, 1441, 1717, 2323. A call from abroad: +331. In a wrong time. On the wrong place.
Why none speaks any more? Where does this silence come from? Who erased the words? Who hide the lust? I don’t dare to ask about love…
What do they try to say? I can’t understand. I won’t even try.
There is something in the refusal, incomplete.
C’mon, leave me, in every departure I learn about myself.
Or come back to me, but come closer and stronger.
Don’t try to invoke storms and lightening, it’s all in vain.
Rain and the sun draw the rainbow in the sky, don’t you know?
Celebrating your existence, my verses give you immortality.
Again, I watch myself somewhere far away, and I really don’t know how I get there every time.
Some inexplicable power crawls under my skin and don’t leave me in peace, causing the shiver and sweet pressure in the eyes.
I keep telling myself that a voice I hear inside while I read all those unwritten words was never meant for me.
I tell myself that it’s all part of my fancies and some unfulfilled dreams.
Yet, again, everything seems so real and my relentless thoughts can’t stop finding a justification for everything that has never happened.
The paths that I follow start to intertwine and the landscapes that I see through the window remind me more and more of the photos from my imagination.
I have a feeling that the pieces of this puzzle start to fit into the frame.
More knowledge I get – more knowledge I need.
if I ever find a way
will I ever come back home
if I ever find a way
Forget! On your sparks I don’t answer by a wind. Do not hope that I will help you burn all the dried dreams. I don’t knit branches nor blow the fallen leaves from the asphalt.
I am the spring, the one who awakes all sleeping buds and restless butterflies. I’m the March morning that cheerfully greets you through your unwashed windows.
dove on a windowsill
having a breakfast
‘Hope, but do not expect, because every expectation could bring you a disappointment’, they say. So, I train myself not to think too much. Over-thinking is not my true friend. We used to hang out together a lot but all we were good in was a painting walls in black.
‘Want, but do not need’, they say. That’s why I teach myself to find a peace in every single moment that was given to me. Sometimes it works and sometimes not, but I’m getting better and better.
But… you know… I can’t give up on one little thought in my mind. I hide it from the others and let it out sometimes, when the night falls and everyone is asleep. I let it wake up all butterflies and allow them to fly all over the greenery around my heart. I let it wrap around my body, gently, like the wings of the Angel that I call upon… sometimes…
above the clouds
higher and higher
I let you go
so you could find
your way to me
What a joy arises when the sun shows up behind the thick clouds. All cold days suddenly become forgotten and there’s nothing else in my mind than the hot nights of July and the salt on our skin.
soles of heavy boots
glued to the asphalt
first day of spring
After a quarrel that occurred separately in the two heads, without saying a word, silence took over. Everyone goes on with his own truth. Would the words change anything? I don’t think so. Each of them would claim that he was right and everyone would defend his own reality. Loud voices and the hard words never solve anything. After all, we all believe in our own truths.
just me and a rhythm
of my breath
Linked to Carpe Diem #1174 silence
I went to that concert just because I’m a mum. Although I usually think that my inner child is still teenager, I often find myself encapsulated, sulky and with symptoms of hard adulthood. Very fast a dissatisfaction follows with the questions where I have started, where I have finished and whether is there a way forward. And then, suddenly, the old Me just burst out. Like a butterfly, just like that, and stay here a day or two. Suddenly everything looks like a spring. Music in my head, music in my heart, just music. Music of my youth or music of her youth… it’s not really important.
fountain of youth – chirping sparrows share the joy
Linked to Carpe Diem #1170 fountain
You know, I’m tired of everything. I’m so tired of noise, of human grief and incomprehension, of heightened tones and empty talks. I’m tired of trumpets and fanfares, of castles and walls, of knights and drama queens. I’m so tired.
on my face
Linked to Carpe Diem #1169 humble
I knew that this will become an addiction. It was just a matter of time… 🙂
As always, after deceptive spring everything looks like a return of the winter. I know that all is illusion and nothing is as it seems. All in all, winter will last as long as I let her because everything is in us and we are part of everything. That’s why I’m leaving tonight. I choose some warmer days and some nicer places where the time doesn’t exist.
between two jumps
on a garden chair
Linked to Carpe Diem #1168 flute
Seasons rotate quickly. View from my window – always same but yet so different. Sunday coffee spiced with a spoon of melancholy. In vain I try to draw the curtains wanting to sleep away this dull silence. Wind tirelessly moves them and the sunrays that penetrate through are not warm enough to keep my windows open.
street dust waltzing
with the leaves