TO MY DISTANT WOMAN FRIEND, SHE DOES NOT WANT MENTION HER NAME

She talks with me,
she never changes her profile picture,
it is a beautiful picture of a great painter,
and she does not want dancing with the wind,
and locks her profile for someone,
whom she does not know,
yet surprisingly waiting for him.

She talks with me,
I feel a kind of peace and rejoicing,
I know she is a kind young woman with love,
that is so imminent that the dark can feel her heart,
and I am in her charm of word usages,
she is devotee of God, and praises love.

She talks with me,
I want to see her face and her faithful eyes,
but I get no time to ask her favoring me
with her photographic appearance on the site,
as she is impressive to make me live with sweet insights,
as if she is before me, despite her invisibility,
and her words are full of eternal feeling of love
that makes me walk on a celestial journey
like walking with hand in hand on a sea-shore.
It is her beauty, softly dissolved into human love,
and one day I just say her,
-“I want to see your divine face and beauty.”
She immediately replies, as if she is waiting for my request.
-“Really, Yes, I have one picture for you only.”

Moments after, I open my e-mail inbox,
I find a new e-mail, hurriedly I open it,
and I am spell-bound, how graceful sublime beautiful she is!
She is standing amidst flower garden of her parent’s house.
She is a unbound beautiful in the color of the flowers’ matching,
one has to praise her, she is like a woman hermit beauty,
standing with her hands slinging down her shoulders,
body wrapped with a sari, straight and eyes in rose petal dreams,
as if she comes here to cool the world,
and she can modify the wide, up surging rage everywhere,
as if she appears here to make summer weather cool,
with her serenity and beauty of love.
And the greens adores her as a fairy messenger,
to make all of us cool in her kind rejoicing,
and we all become calm, forgetting hatred and war,
as if she holds a conch shell, and blows it to declare
that war has ended, and ill upheavals are to be abandoned,
and she is here to make all things in peace and harmony,
and she only receives roaring uproar of the ocean
and she will not receive any uproar of human wars.

She is in her coldness,
she is rejoicing with her presence,
that is a colorful flowing in this sorrowful earth,
as if she will make all dark stones white,
as if she is singing for love and peace,
as if she is a priest to give peace sermons,
and for this she does not receive any worldly rewards,
as if she is telling to the world—–
it is not time for dancing with enmity,
it is the time for creativity and live fine—-
and she is here to observe and congratulate the earth
for its attempt for human love, dwelling in peace in the mainstream.

I become connoisseur of your divinity and beauty,
and you are the messenger of love and peace upon this earth,
I pray thee, please stay here, and the world needs thy song of love.

Advertisements

MY LOVELY DISTANT LADY POET, A FRIEND

This poem is for Ludmila Antonoff

A poetic world
that comes always with a social web site,
a woman poet friend digs feelings of love.
And I am looking a small piece of love full world
that she drops on the mind’s reflection.
She is beautiful, her eyes are searching something,
that I find love, and her words are elaborate of feelings,
I sink in her words, and every poem is a thrilled movement,
passionate breathing, true to her heart’s calling
for love, wedged between her reality and her imagination.

Sometimes I think how energy she gets
to express small fragments of feeling splinters
her blood soaked rafts of life, she is peering
into her adulthood, womanhood, motherhood,
with her migraine pain, seems it is her struggle,
to live and let others live in the realm of love and peace.

Through her poems, sometimes I remember
the very youth and very sensation of love
and the struggle for life in the strides of
life’s permission to go through the semantic shore,
in the journey of life on a dredged way,
we are all experiencing of our sea and our sailing
on its water surface
from the beginning of our childhood
after being released from our parents care,
throwing ourselves for moving with independent dreams,
and she addresses that appointment in her words.

She is walking with a vision and a dream
we are all connoisseurs of her poems and feel
whispers of life and sweet wave of sea breeze.

THE DIVERSION

There is a play of diversion.
If I remain awake to hear call of love,
the glass wall diverts that dream
and she leaves me in dark,
making me purged to dwell demented.

If there is a flood,
funds are diverted.
If there is a calamity,
lucrative men will converse
to get the benefits.
If you protest against it,
you will be diverted.

There is always a diversion.
If there is a mist
men in search of truth are diverted.
If there is non-stop protest,
innocent people are diverted,
and the participants are blamed,
and security agencies are let
to erase the symptoms of
protest in the name of security,
to divert the aim.
It there is a protest for solidarity,
greedy people will assemble
and the beneficent takers
will surround the scene
to keep all in silence,
relief arrivals go to the clients
and commons are onlookers,
and commons are commons
and the hunters are hunters
and punters are punters,
and amid great power of overcast,
fairy commons are diverted
in drowsy expectations of nil gaining,
élite sanction eats away everything.

There is always a diversion,
a diversion of taste,
a diversion of life,
a diversion of testimony,
a diversion of sanctity,
a diversion of speech,
a diversion of serenade,
a diversion of the truth.
a diversion of truth of truths.

If there is an economic miracle,
commons are diverted from its phrases.
If there is a granted subsidy on an item,
commons are not in the features,
and commission and omission do occur then.
If we can get some educational means
commons are said to have swarming bees,
to dwell in the drowned spirit.
And every word uttered in favor of commons
is calculated to preferring élite profiteering.
If commons sing for silver lightning,
they are said to be doing erring.
If commons think for the world,
they are said to be water trails
cutting no footing on real benefit pouring,
they are for usages of sly crisp of the state,
and everywhere speakers are those
who are nourished by the commons’ brain and push.
If commons want to live in peace,
there arises an air of breathlessness,
a big afraid fair,
a big wilderness,
a big sleeplessness,
a big helplessness,
a big building of crooks,
a big dreamlessness,
a long way of visionless journey.

Commons are moving
thinner and thinner,
as if we are not for ourselves,
we are what?
We are our bloody jokes,
we are our bad turnovers,
we are our contract breakers,
we are our cross road dwellers,
we are our migratory entities,
we are our rustle peers,
we are our wrapped sorry state.

Thus we are born,
and pass our painful childhood,
and we grow in our diverted teen ages,
and we live in our diverted adulthood,
and we live in our broken parenthood.

Our sky is narrow, and
thus we live here in reckless design.

I FEEL GUILTY, O MY DEAR DISTANT LADY LOVE

O my fearless young love woman,
I am drinking your love, sinking in your love,
you are spirit, I am your love match,
and when I go to the city centre the modern mall,
I move with your thinking in my mind,
and when I go to accept health care services,
I am in endless raptures of your love,
as if I am living in your award-winning smile,
so cute, so loving, so soaked in moisture of love,
and I cannot wandering my eyes,
except I am looking in your eyes,
and I am tremble in your body charms,
beautifully designed in heaven’s grace of creativity.
I love you, I love your smiling, I love your feeling,
I love your everything, I love your delight.

How I criticize myself?
Am I a faithful lover to love my lover?
Am I be able to protect her privacy?
I am a man, and she is a woman,
and desirable to each other
and we come more closer
in never-ending love lore,
and I am proud of her love,
and she tells she is also proud of my love,
and we live apart from each other,
I cannot see her face, she cannot see my face,
yet we talk hour after hour,
and I am in her love, in her body’s warmth.
She says, she goes to the mall to buy something,
and she return like a wind,
and says, “Sorry, I am late to appear here.”
I only say, “No sorry, It is OK.”
and I know she wants to talk with me.
yet sometimes some different things comes in me,
I have to criticize me,
I cannot be lover of one woman who does not know me,
Is it the right way to love only on words,
that are written on glass surface,
I can shallow my breathing,
I can sink into her sober delight,
and I have to make love a prosperous divine.

2.

I do everything wrong, I am guilty for my ruins.
O my dear distant lady-love, you cannot imagine it,
because we have not met face to face to know each other,
and we have not stayed an evening together, no touching.
Only our love is on chatting, only it is on a social net work.

Throughout my life, I do not know how to get economic freedom,
and my life looks on place and date at my loss of vigor, extracts
of my existences on this earth, and then you come from a distant
shore while you are traveling to make friendship with me,
and I receive worldly senses, only on inexplicable source
of love and testimony, and I have prejudice and soft cited
pathological analysis, not getting exquisite my shares, I cannot
demand love, love is greater than my life, love is a life and its energy, lives are lives. If I perish love, it will perish me, and there is no one to moan for me, people come and go, and I have selected one woman as my love woman, she may hold a garland or deny, and I cannot follow her as there is so many hindrances to reach for beloved one. Yet I cannot close my love heart and I cannot be rude to ignore her, and thus I want to live in her and live on this earth suitably upon her love.

I am in a dilemma,
I am in other strains,
I have made implied errors,
yet I am on a glorious path,
I am a man,
and this gives me a feeling of seedling love
constantly towards a love delight,
and many years I live on this search,
and I want to be loved by one young woman,
but I am at a distance from her,
it is my pain, it is my grief.

I am thinking I am walking
on the sharp edge on a sword,
laid down over an unknown shore,
and love has something like to make sure me,
O my distant lady-love, say only,
“Softly you walk on, I am with you always,
love is blind, I do not want your harm,
Please walk on softly, I am not in hurry
to get you immediately, do not fall into the death pit.”

Then I can walk to you, leaving critics behind me.

SWEET LADY AND SWEET LOVE

She comes in my dreams,
she appears before my eyes,
her beautiful eyes, nose tips, lips,
cheeks, chin are before my eyes,
and her photo is my love photo,
she may be somewhere upon this earth,
I do not know her, a heart throb she is,
she may be in glacier, she may be in the moon,
she is sweet, charming, and divine,
Just look in celestial mirror
how beautiful you are in your eyes.

I spent so long time in search of love,
from childhood, adulthood to this mature age,
some conglomerate, some skin, some jigsaw
some bronze, some bizarre, some disguise,
some more heartfelt flames, some inner self….
all moving with me, yet love is splintered in mind,
and when I try to catch love, it slips my body
and sinks in my feeling for a moment, then vanishes.

IN HER LOVE SEARCH, SHE GETS ZERO VERSE (Part-I)

I dance my life for….
I am whole,
I am complete,
I say what I mean,
and I mean what I say.

I dance in the light,
the conscious and the unconscious,
the sane and the insane,
and I speak from myself,
authentically & with total conviction.

All the parts of myself
flow into the whole~
all my divergent selves unite as one.
I listen to what needs to be heard,
I never make excuses,
I feel my feelings,
deeply and profoundly,
I never hide myself.

I express it as it needs to be expressed,
from the core of myself,
from the wholeness of my dance,
I am fully Empowered to walk my walk,
and to speak my truth~
-I wrote this poem in my high school.
-Asya Rachitsky

As I see her in a social web site,
I try to give her a description of her mind
that is soft, cool, kind and loving, and innovative:

I am a woman, and I live on my own,
I love dreams, I have deep bosom content
in living pattern that is congested in my life traffic.
So when I am awake from sleep,
I erase all my mind’s expression of my feeling,
that arises when I was in deep asleep, now all gone,
but I am not away from me, as it is not necessary,
and I do not want to stay in my lingering desires,
because I want to get rid of them, as these are my upsets,
and now I have to be rushing for my work of the day,

When I read your poem, I feel sad, because
I am feeling as if I am locked up in my parents’ house,
when my feeling and my action do not match,
yet I live, really I live, it is my choice, it is my
wondrous youth time, yet some of my longings are regrets,
and some of my longings are merely good feelings,
I do not know why these good feelings
are not aid of my verse of content and reality.
But I am in my teens that I carry with me
and above is my poem when I try to make a journey
to this world of bliss full gifts, and I make a HOPE CLUB
in my school time, when I got freedom as a teen woman.
Now I am a grown up woman,
I am now watching from my fragrant bosom,
how I grew up in my parent’s house.
I am watching from my childhood,
how I lose my mystic mind,
and I am swimming away from my moonlight teen age.

With my worried eyes, and searching love delight,
I feel a dark hill gradually growing me inside,
and my dawn, my river basin inside, all of my possessions,
move like a dark church living with bemoan souls,
and as fast as I become familiar with my body,
of my weird breasts, timely periods, sweet fluids,
that are all great virtue of my womanhood
are like Holocaust in my dryness, my passion feeling is dried
in a micro-oven, I am helpless in my sea beaches,
maybe it at Los Angeles, Mumbai, Tokyo or Krinitsa,
as if I am a dried, rotten leaf flowing away
with the tide of the ocean that is coming out from within me.

I can feel oceanic joy and its wave inside me,
but it takes me as a bad liaison,
as if I am a booking counter selling my body tickets,
as if I am a bar house, and I am selling my vodka of my feeling,
YET I think good, I work good, I burn my body good, I think so it is me along,
sticking to this embodiment may bring something rot,
but I live together dissolving loyally for the bliss of the world.

THE EARTH IS OUR GREAT HEALER

The earth then moves high to the sun,
its axis slants one inch from its original position,
it is the date 21st December, it is presumed.
The God and Goddesses are gathering
to observe the great event,
and somebody asks to the earth,
-“What do you know about the knowledge?”

The earth moves heavily,
with its usual rotation around the sun,
with its spinning mode around its axis,
just making a gesture as if its body is the answer,
and all assets we possess on its body
are belonging to the earth,
and all these items will be broken and shaken,
and lava and magma will eat away
all we so long bind and possess.

As if the earth is saying,
-“I am endowed freedom,
I am rescuer of your boredom and stress syndrome.”

All questioners are silent,
as if they are all spell-bound at the earth’s reply:
it can speak,
it can explain,
it can heal human pain,
it can heal the sorrow,
it can dwell with us as common ancestor,
it can live with our wisdom,
it can derive all our desires, wishes, and praises,
it can have a mind,
it can reign our endeavor,
it has senses called earthly senses,
it has objects that can build in-roads into mind,
it has divinity in love and prejudice,
that give us regard in our hearts.

The earth is the great faithful object,
sense’s delight, and body’s serenity.
The earth is the great experience of human bondage,
the nature’s comprehensive womb web.
And after termination of our lives,
the earth acts like great healer of pain,
and the earth takes our soul’s prayer,
and liberates our mind from grief and pain.