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Tag: life

Past

Published by Ondrej on May 14, 2020

No, I have not forgotten anything
to your voice, there was a ring;
nor the way your smile used to sing
as you sat there opposite.
There was more between us to admit
your look, for my emotions a conduit
to higher, deeper words inside
as our universes used to collide
emotions words could not describe.

With a sorry, I concede
it lasted longer than agreed.
No longer was I able to read
all your secret and obvious signs;
then, I knew, that this defines
and most certainly undermines
what was left of the beauty;
we realised it was not our duty
to tend to our tender amity.

Thoughts

Published by Ondrej on April 22, 2020

Shh! Lower your voice
to a whisper.
Don’t make a sound—
else you’ll be found!

Who will find me, you ask,
and it is no small task.
Those who look deep within
searching for answers.
They’re all fighting
their own battles:
an endless chattering rage
fighting to get out
of a self-imposed cage.

What’s going on inside
these soldiers’ minds?
Even the wisest do not know
neither does their mortal foe.

You gasp—who could that be
who could be performing this internal robbery?
Hush, child—
you still have much to learn
I say, with my face stern.
Before you know how to look
into your head’s every cranny and nook.

Lost

Published by Ondrej on April 22, 2020

Searching for everything and nothing
looking for it all;
can’t seem to get
to the bottom of it all.

Peering into the darkness
from a porthole onto fog
not knowing the hidden rough sea
is just the beginning of the prologue.

This ship should sail far
to a secluded island or the highest peaks
away from this wretched endless rush
to find out what my heart seeks.

This journey, I must embark on alone
for the deep crevasses
and fast-moving sand pits
need not your caresses.

Your caresses, glue to the shards
scattered through my being;
perhaps there is one hope
or a ludicrous fantasy I am seeing.

Quarantine 5

Published by Ondrej on April 22, 2020

What day is it?
A greyish blend
An endless pit
With no view around the bend;
but this time
is well spent
making words rhyme.

Others find it less so,
they’re taking it badly;
A shame, because there’s much to know
they look at it rather sadly.

For this is now week five
indeed, it does deprive
us of our friends
and our partners’ beds.

Instead, we can finally see
Those who we’ve been living with: our family.
It’s really not that bad
unless you check the numbers
—and now they’re more than sad;
So many people entering eternal slumbers
For their sake and ours,
Let’s hope this lasts only a few more hours.

Maybe one day

Published by Ondrej on April 20, 2020

Stepping onto the stage
the applause grows
grows louder
now a roar,
a standing ovation.

Curtains wide open
spotlights like stars
only much closer.
Showing perspiration
as the victory chords
ring out in glorious succession
across the auditorium
reverberating, echoing
dancing—in tandem
with the cheers and claps
a victorious couple,
entwined, a cosine and sine,
soaking up the crowd
the atmosphere,
the joy.

Suddenly—a snap.
And silence.

Stadium, gone.
No yelling,
no standing,
no longer.

Back to reality
reality of real life.
Maybe one day, says father,
hand on my shoulder.

Dear Christoff

Published by Ondrej on April 20, 2020

A winter field
the fog, lurking
not a budge,
not a single movement
not even a breath
makes a dent, such
places; lots of death
in times long past.

Torch flickers, snuffs out
a silence of sound
the stark noise of absence around
enveloping, sealing, like cold wax
just as these soldiers’ fates; buried in stacks
their lives – a lost whisper
heard in the still breeze.

Would they have been better off
was it a good idea, dear Christophe?
Regrets, maybe a few;
not like you can say anything new
‘tis a century we’ve been blue.
This is not because of you.

The men in suits—curse them!
Wretched pigs, can they not
put aside feelings from their cot
must others, innocent ones, answer
questions that they themselves cannot?

Ah, dear Krzysztof,
all your names
succumbing to the same flames.
Wherefore do you lie here
so far yet so near.
Into the dark, we can only peer
long time ago, dear,
now a shadow in our minds
staying put as long as history binds.

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.

A glint in your eye

Published by Ondrej on April 16, 2020

There’s a glint in your eye
perhaps a furtive glance
or a smile
you’re ready to dance.

Dance, we will,
till the sun rests
And sing, we will,
till the moon’s in the sky.

That lubricious look you gave me
full of passion, desire – and there was one thing
one in who’s recognising I’m only a trainee
it’s one that made my heart so dearly ring.

You can feel it between the short breaths
between the needed gulps of air
a pang of fiery warmth
through a curtain of her hair.

This is a world unparalleled
as we reach the romantic overture
where words are of no use, where telepathy prevails
an experience, a feeling to nurture.

As the beating drums switch to tingling triangles,
and oxytocin tsunamis turn to tender embraces
understanding the words behind each fond caress:
‘tis adoration for one another we here possess.

Fatigue

Published by Ondrej on April 11, 2020

As the fog rolls in
you cannot see the shore;
much like when
you are tired once more.

A grey-blue haze
of midnight blooms
comes rushing in;
it swiftly swoons.

You dread it coming
but avoid it, you cannot
the ship’s arrived
ties you up in a knot.

Your time has come,
the slow bells of slumber call
run away, you can try
be like running into a brick wall.
Either way, standing or sitting or lying;
the heavy curtain will fall like lead
little time left for complying,
it cares not whether you are in your bed.

Otherwise, should you wish to evade,
it will not be lead next time:
the shrill whistle of falling stone
as you draw your last breath, alone.

Quarantine 4

Published by Ondrej on April 9, 2020

Almost losing count, we’re now in the fourth week
‘tis a strange thing, not seeing others
and not even hearing them speak.

Grim-faced and sullen, the faces
of everybody around
Confinement puts them through their paces
Masks making their muffled sound.

Some speak of a war, a deathly catastrophe
yet all they know is peace and prosperity!
Real, brutal, gruesome war is different while alike
But I have no authority nor experience
To write of war perils or their pertinence
All I can do is highlight the impact on our psyche.

It is a different kind of war, bloody in its own right
One not given up, not without a fight
One fought within the very depths of ourselves
while people empty supermarket shelves.