I can’t exactly remember when some of my dreams turned into reality, but it’s strange how they suddenly ceased to be dreams. And then – what? A man without dreams is like a rose without petals. Only thorns, dried up, left to frighten ill-intentioned fingers.

Someone wise wrote: “If you love a flower, don’t pick it up.” I haven’t seen this warning earlier or maybe I was just too young to understand so I’ve cut some buds here and there, I admit.

in a mild breeze
drops of dew

Linked to Carpe Diem #1419 Rose Garden (kikobun)


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I’m my own teacher and an apprentice.

in the bushes along the road – signposts

Linked to Carpe Diem #1417 apprentice (one-bun)


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Without a joke, spring breaks through the old wooden fence.

following the scent of lilac – a restless heart


Linked to Carpe Diem #1415 Perfume of Spring (one-bun)


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Još samo ponekad u snove mi dođe
Pogled koji nekad dušu grejao je
Brzo se pojavi i još brže prođe
Dok pijani Mesec odozgo se smeje

Prelazi u leto od miline zima
A prekratke noći u najlepše sate
Srce zatreperi kao da te ima
Rašire se ruke, žele da te vrate

Sve se nešto pitam da li ima nade
Da se u snu opet sretnemo nas dvoje
Ljubomorno jutro od mene te krade

Po usnulom nebu razliše se boje
Naša priča jedva u par reči stade
Hajde, uzmi natrag iz mene sve svoje

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Posted by on 15/04/2018 in Uncategorized


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The gate closed behind me and once again, an old goalkeeper in a glass hut sinked into a dream in front of his black-and-white monitor.
As I drive back, I breathe deeply, trying to pull into myself even the thinest sun’s ray that runs through the still bare branches.
Then I stop and stand in front of the familiar stone wall. Fingering over the letters, I read once more the well-known rules.
Sometimes it takes so little for happiness – a couple of warm words and a kiss for a good morning.

plum brandy
and a rising sun
balms for a wound

Linked to Carpe Diem’s Crossroads #5 scent of plum blossoms


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20804 (one-bun)

on the other side of a stream a pair of wild rabbits chasing each other, while above them a couple of falcons spread their wings

from flower to flower in a meadow of love – two butterflies

Linked to Carpe Diem #1406 Meadow (one-bun)


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On a dusty window glass – a symbol of eternity drawn by a finger before walkout. Still my thoughts wrap and knit the eights along the frame set long ago. Nothing’s happening. Just sometimes, an unrest or two fly through the small holes of the night and disappear, or become caught and twisted into infinity losing all rights for a breath. How many rains need to fall to wash away the last sigh born on the departure?

small leaf
on a dry branch
hint of happiness

Linked to Carpe Diem #1404 Happiness (short-haibun)


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Midnight rain washes the last traces of Thursday. Bird in a cage spreads its’ wings, drawing attention to itself. I made a screen shot of the moment when my dream turned into reality. 1:11, weird time for a poet’s first appearance on a TV, isn’t it?

sound of wheels
on a wet carriageway
familiar restlessness

Linked to Carpe Diem #1405 New Life (“extreme” haibun)


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I’m afraid that all of the dreams made about you could be scattered like a dust, if I just open my palm. That’s why I jealously keep them in a clenched fist under the pillow and hide them there, far from the moonlight and all curious stars. I’m sorry if those pressures feel too strong sometimes, but without you I wouldn’t have anything to dream about. I just want to you to be safe.

whistling wind
hidden between the clouds
April sun


Linked to Carpe Diem #1400 The Awakening, a love poem by Rumi


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Every single time, before I get into the taxi cab, I pay attention on its’ number. I don’t know why, I never memorize them. I have no clue what number I saw today, but when I opened the door and heard that horrible music, I knew it was him! Poor man, he has no idea how famous he is. Maybe not to others, but in my World he surely is since the morning when my Higher Self jumped into his body and asked me about the things I should ask myself. After that drive. I become upset every time when I see his face, but seems like he doesn’t remember me at all. He has never spoken to me again and to be honest, I hope he never will. What happened that day? I really don’t know, but I know that today I’m standing face to face with all my dreams buried long time ago.

oh, this breeze
familiar melody 
as a lullaby

Linked to Carpe Diem #1395 The Dream


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