Tag: free verse

Wabi-Sabi

by Maja Todorovic, posted in Business in Rhyme, My personal rhyme - from time to time

The Japanese

have a wonderful tradition

of admiring to

something that isn’t perfect, called wabi-sabi

and it has become my mantra

each time I look at your scowling eyes,

two dark rampageous

hawks rearing

to feast on my insecurities,

my habit to kneel at your monstrous ego;

Your mouth, enraged volcano

throwing missiles of sharp, burning words

at my bowed, tired head:

wabi-sabi, wabi-sabi,

nobody’s perfect – you for

misuse of uncontrolled power

and me for unused, powerless control.

I’m yet to learn, we are equal – that’s

the perfection you blindly refuse to see.

Maja S. Todorovic

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White city

by Maja Todorovic, posted in Business in Rhyme, My personal rhyme - from time to time

It used to be called the White city, my hometown.

And it really was white. I remember, how through my

window I could see where two rivers merge with

sky in the most beautiful lightness…

Yesterday I came to the White city.

Of its entire glorious glow there are only pigeons trying to fly,

not having wings to lift themselves above the grey net

of dark clouds made of sorrows and unlived dreams.

People walk and talk, just as they used to,

but instead of smile they wear masks:

Mask 1: “Good morning boss!”

Mask 2: “I’ll pick up the groceries, dear!”

Mask 3: “What a great game tonight!”

Now, White city is full of labyrinths.

For each room you have to put the right mask.

It helps you navigate.

If you put the wrong one,

streets just swallow you.

The streets…once a safe place to be.

I used to play on the streets of my white city…

Just how many knee cuts they have absorbed!

I’d liked when concrete caressed me on my head.

Streets are now landslides of children cry, abandon lovers,

cars that start only on your yelling.

Skyscrapers don’t exist any more.

Shoe boxes have replaced them.

In public transport,

we have to climb on each other’s heads

in order to move…And that’s the only way for you to know

in which labyrinth room you are.

There are no windows,

and why would you need them?

Sulfur and nitrogen have replaced fresh air.

Is ever light going to return to the White city?

I don’t know. I would like to.

Maybe some new generations

will help rivers merge again with sky

in the most beautiful lightness.

Maja S. Todorovic

Note: This is a poem, published as a part of  The Disappearing project by Red Room Company. It was written as my impression of visiting my hometown after longer absence. Beograd I was born in and used to know, really doesn’t exist anymore. Sadly, but true.

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Quick publishing update

by Maja Todorovic, posted in My personal rhyme - from time to time

Today, several of my poems have been published on http://www.versewrights.com.

That Moment

Do you
remember the day
when Earth sweat and
invisible drops exchanged scorching kisses.
It wasn’t ash – rather
a numbing substance
we prayed for:
and your eyes became stars again.
(for more click here.)

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Early autumn grapes

by Maja Todorovic, posted in Business in Rhyme, My personal rhyme - from time to time

They say, if your life

is too bitter then you crave sugar.

And I do remember the acerbity on my tongue

when my father told his diagnose: bladder cancer.

It was like someone filled my mouth with pile of old, rusty

coins and I couldn’t breathe, just in awe, with crucified

jaw I stared at the telephone.

 

My father soon got better,

yet my body had its own trouble digesting truth:

leaking gut poured all the bitterness of previous months’ uncertainty.

I began to grow sugars, tiny special sugars, cleverly hidden in the pores

of the synovial lakes and joint meanders.

 

These tiny special sugars, grow and mature

with each season, unharvested,

developing tear membranes,

disguised purple knots in my throat.

 

Involuntarily nerve-pulsating dreams remind me

how clumsy beginner I was.

Now, with years my skills improved:

I’ve learned with one hand to

keep my stomach intact,

with other to lift my neck

just enough to catch early autumn grapes

in my father’s vineyard,

to erase the bitterness from my head.

Maja S. Todorovic

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Variegated

by Maja Todorovic, posted in Business in Rhyme, My personal rhyme - from time to time

It starts with a spot.

One tiny spot.

Soft and gentle,

red, transparent and liquidly

like a drip from a freshly

pressed strawberry juice.

 

The skin unveils the doors,

releases pressure

and suddenly I’m on the boat

the boat slightly gliding, swaying and my

head tilts to enjoy crimson landscape.

For a minute I think there is

a sunset, reflecting blushing chicks in the water.

Warmth tingles my eyes.

 

Finally I am wearing that red dress:

red dress made of pleats cascading over the stairs.

The stairs, neatly arranged blocks for kids

to jump, run with their tiny feet,

to scatter red petals and

peals of spring radishes.

 

The dress grew with each waterfall

and the breath, the breath is a

variegated butterfly trapped in the glass jar.

Maja S. Todorovic

If only

by Maja Todorovic, posted in Business in Rhyme, My personal rhyme - from time to time

If only I could be a river

a river that goes, flows to the mouth of giant

whale, joining other watery hands to handshake in

the rhythm of waves, rejoicing drop by drop in the

eternity of an ocean;

 

If only I could be a wind, that carries my breath

collides white clouds, like a spider’s net catches every word

has the strengths to rearrange desserts

and knows how to surrender

in the eye of storm;

 

 

If only I could be a tree,

a tree that knows its place under the sun,

how to befriend soil and welcome rain

a tree that accepts its roots – broken sinews

too tired to grow:

 

I would congratulate myself,

I would sing the song only I hear,

I would visit places only I knew exist

I would finally be who I am.

 

Maja S. Todorovic

Innocence

by Maja Todorovic, posted in My personal rhyme - from time to time

Metal bird drums among the clouds,

regularly each morning like broken alarm clock.

 

Automated, she reached for the bruised pot

the one in which she would usually make coffee.

Instead, she just licks fresh water from her palm.

 

Warmed up, she searched for silk tights

and fake leather boots.

Instead, she leaves her coarse feet and ingrown

toenails to bloom.

 

Played in, deceiving softness of her bed

she replaces for ripened hard floor.

 

Faced to a nameless wall, disarmed void of things

she could finally swell into her own innocence.

 

Maja S. Todorovic

Poetic inspiration: Unlock your untold story

by Maja Todorovic, posted in Business in Rhyme, My personal rhyme - from time to time, Poetic inspiration, Writer's creative bites

unlock_untoldstory_poetry

Unlock that untold story

residing in you,

for once you

break the chains of yesterday,

you will find the way to your most

creative self.

Maja S. Todorovic

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Marionettes

by Maja Todorovic, posted in My personal rhyme - from time to time

Your bones trot after your flesh.

Mind tries to pull you together.

Motionless body waits to be plugged in

by one or two sips of dark, heavy coffee.

 

Caffeinated you crawl through the day.

Hours are smudged over your face of relentless hopes and tainted wishes.

As the dark sneaks in and the sun rushes west for a good night sleep,

you fold your skin, respectively, just to wait for another golden beam

to slap you.

 

Eyes, puffy and swelled search for the cold water to wipe the foggy lenses of

dreams that still cling above your head.

You call my name.

It echoes in the empty cave of our abandoned and never fulfilled desires.

I’m approaching, giving you your new paper cloths to try on.

“These clothes should fit you”, I say.

“Perfect, to tighten your bones and stitch to your soul,

You heart won’t jingle”.

 

Each of us now takes our positions in the Draw of life.

Waiting for the Destiny to take us out, and play with us.

We are just marionettes in her hands, praying that strings are strong enough:

not to break when in boredom she throws us on the floor.

 

Maja S. Todorovic

Poetic inspiration: The Power of Poetry

by Maja Todorovic, posted in My personal rhyme - from time to time, Poetic inspiration, Read, write, lead!, Writer's creative bites

poetry_dosage

Poetry comes in small packages,

because all you need is a tiny dosage

of concentrated emotion to

electrify your whole being.

Maja S. Todorovic

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