Category: Favourites

This category is a collection of my favourite poems on this website, so those written by myself. This is different to my favourite collection of poems written by other authors.

Each poem has a different reason for being here. Some, I think, are quirky or witty; others, emotional and melancholic—but all ones I am proud of. Many of them carry particular significance to me. But none, of course, are perfect. I am still very much in the process of learning the ropes of writing poems.

Economics jokes

Published by Ondrej on November 18, 2020

Let me tell you:
when you meet a friend, kindred spirit or someone special
don’t—whatever you do,
start cracking economics jokes.

Their demand is in low supply
and people’s humour for them even more;
they’ll all just say “bye”
with a rather sullen face.

You might call that a negative externality;
let me tell you: stop.
We all know of your fantastic ability
but one’s enough.

Diversification of your jokes is key
much like many things in life
and your inability to see
past macro is, um, a problem.

So next time you see your grandma or next Juliet,
please err away from trade surpluses
or anything remotely soviet.
You’ll thank me later.

A strange new world

Published by Ondrej on October 10, 2020

I’m a man of nineteen
a man of forty and thirteen.
Liking beret hats
and videos of cats.

But I realised—in this world
nobody is that bold
every night is a purchase
as you sink further from the surface.

On this surface, real love is found
where feelings of tender romance compound.
In today’s transactional society
decisions require no piety.

What is this supposed to mean—
how can I unsee what has been seen?
Does love as we know it exist no more
just one-night stands making you feel empty and sore?

This world, though, I’m willing to discover
with many conspicuous secrets to uncover
I just hope in the end I’ll still be me
Still being the gallant, courteous and gentle man I would like to be.

A look into her eyes

Published by Ondrej on September 12, 2020

As the night sky, eyes so deeply blue:
the evening stars I so wish to see anew;
or the earth after a rain spell
a rich, loving umber that all worries quell;
a green of the faraway emerald sea
one glance—and your soul may be free.

Beacons, shining upon the mountaintops
as the soothing embers glow
arrived—the place where time stops
and all movements start to slow.

No longer are these fireworks far away
wanting so much while having nothing to say
as these gems float towards
your heart, to the sky, upwards
there—once this sumptuous sight you meet
Heaven, your dreams, euphoria—all compete.

Thank you

Published by Ondrej on September 5, 2020

In a new strange land
with new strange people
wagging strange tongues;
none of it was planned.

But over time, only a few weeks
they are not so strange, they’re closer
warm-hearted, loving and witty
they’re what every lost person seeks.

Each beautiful in their own way
squares in a round world
inspiring me to do more—to write here
there’s only two words I can say.

Friends

Published by Ondrej on August 6, 2020

The people you surround yourself with
are the people you become.
You are a smith,
you are the destined sum
of all their qualities and weaknesses.
Family is not something to choose:
do remember, the angels are your witnesses,
they need not search for clues.

If your friends are warm-hearted
you will be kind;
if they are, alas, narrow-minded
to beauty, you will be blind.
If they radiate with affection
you will have love to give;
Theirs is the direction
your existence you will live.

To my friends

Published by Ondrej on June 30, 2020

To my friends:
now, a new chapter begins.

You, who have stood by me
while all else deserted;
You, who could see
what really mattered.

Those of you I joked around with
or engaged in staring matches
being normal: a myth…
You, who also had sweat patches.

Then there were those closer;
more than just friends
those to be hugged tighter (or pushed further)
to steer clear or worship as godsends.

The Beethovens and Puccinis
astounding, so incredibly talented
others, as dry as ten-day grissinis
or like ancient blades—blunted.

Peculiar, bizarre or perplexed
your faces have been;
while I was not vexed
some things cannot be unseen.

The future world leaders
and the future garbage men
all learned literary readers
some wishing they said “amen”.

The party animals
with seemingly bottomless bladders
others, mammalian cannibals
starting already to climb career ladders.

To be very brief, indeed,
it matters not whence you come
or what devils you believe in;
it’s the shared experiences:
those are second to none
and the cameras we have smiled in
putting aside our differences.

I have a message unsmall:
I love you all.

Happiness

Published by Ondrej on May 19, 2020

It is of a seductive simplicity
this sentiment that spends eternity
slyly hiding in the shadows
till the song of sparrows beckons.

A full orchestra and symphony
no, nothing to do with money
in tandem with reggae and metal
life finally reveals its petals.

Be-bop-a-doodle-ing down the street
greeting all you meet
with that gorgeous full-toothed smile
your joyous promenade can continue for many a mile.

As the saxophones and tubas reach their overtures
you think of organising local tours
for this stunning land you live in
so gobsmackingly beautiful, blimmin’!

For once, the sun glimmers in all its might
the awesome local landscape, a sight
everyone ought to behold
to see things in this way of old.

With us from our very cradles
from places of which sing angels
of glorious, golden, honey-like dreams,
that life’s gloominess redeems.

But this celestial drink will not last
as all things, it shall too come to pass.
That is, however, not to fear
for many moments like these are near
all one needs to do
is breathe in anew
and feel the heavenly bliss:
the feeling of true happiness.

O Discoverer!

Published by Ondrej on May 19, 2020

Do you ever sit here
and gaze upon the stars
burning so bright
casting these heavenly sears
in a cloth of the deepest blue.

Cotton wool wafts by,
choking, strangling as it floats nearby
the light of countless faraway suns
celestial fathers and sons.

Their might cannot be fathomed
by any tools we here possess
nor can the secrets be revealed
of their heavenly address:
no gods will of them confess!

But you, my friends, I urge you,
Go!—Go, before all else takes you
before earthly life breaks you
for it is you who we will remember
and call you leader, captain—O Discoverer!

If only she knew 2

Published by Ondrej on April 22, 2020

Note from the author:

This poem is a continuation of or ‘sequel’ to the original If only she knew.

Holding that strip of canvas
a faint, distant smile.
Plain to see—a result
of weeks’ dedication;
wherefore has this been made?
The colours are so beautiful too—
if only she knew.

Steps back, a lady depicted
bright, ripe colours
fertile, lush greens
with deep, rich umber
and glowing blue;
if only she knew.

The cloth falls onto the ground,
a mind of its own.
But from a distance,
such a small shred
grows—north, south
in every heavenly path.
Fills the room;
now there are two;
if only she knew.

The painter, elsewhere
a sweating, nervous wreck
pulse beating on his neck.
He hopes deeply
almost beyond hope itself
that the message will come through
and she knows
what he feels is true;
if only, if only she knew.

Beautiful lady is perplexed
thankfully remains unvexed.
Wait—a gasp—she sees it;
her heart, matches with a flit.
She’s been looking in a mirror:
make no mistake, this is no error,
this glorious canvas
painted with such tact, class
heart now a chargèd rod.
This painter—oh god
such a charming gentleman
his affectionate way definitely can
stir up the wildest feelings inside of me
ones even I have not managed to see.
Such beautiful emotions of many a hue
That was the moment,
that was the moment she knew.

Wardrobe 2

Published by Ondrej on April 16, 2020

Note from the author:

This poem, Wardrobe, was originally published on 8th April. This is an improved version of the original, containing the addition of two new stanzas. My heart goes out to Felix S, thanks to whom this poem would not be what it is now.

Folded in stacks,
hanging on wires
rolled up socks
into shapes like tires.

Stiff and lonely
yet fully coloured
bright pastels
left abandoned,
deep blacks
like drawing pencils
or a blunt axe.

But despair no more!
For life is breathed in
to these clothes once more;
when they’re worn
they’re no longer forlorn.
Their colours radiate
as if newly born;
their beauty’s innate.

A shirt, dull grey hanging
One hand in, sleeve now plump, no longer sagging
almost resurrecting, making proud Jesus’ father.
As you wear it, a shining pearl of white
a knight’s armour in all its might
ready for a day in the office; oh, the bother.

At five, taken off, replaced by a tee
thrown in bag, a sprint to the metro.
Home, all you needed to see
the pile of clothes in the washing bin: that’s now retro
taken off, that shirt is again like stone
lifeless with no single colour tone.

The trousers, jumpers, ties in there;
in the wardrobe, stored neatly, ready to wear.
Simply left hanging on these hooks,
waiting for the pretty ladies’ furtive looks.
Whose lives’d be more exciting if they were
not spending all of them waiting for monsieur.