Posts Tagged With: home

returning home


beyond the trees surrounding the house it was more light
but for me the sun in my grandma’s eyes was enough
I cut with the knife the top of the boiled egg
spinning together round that golden core
with the silver teaspoon from my father’s baptism

there were too few butterflies
for the many flowers grandma brought on the table
some of them embroidered on handkerchiefs
others on my hats
placed there with her hands soft as apricot jam
smelling like naphthalene and purple lilac
picked when the rain stopped
in the color of fairy tale books drawings

more and more pigeons flew over our heads
from the attic with windows without windowpanes
there fell shadow over shadow from imprisoned wings
from love growing
like a quarrel between seasons

as I got closer to her shoulders
taller than the mailbox from the front gate
higher than the lime tree sapling in the street
little by little I was leaving towards a stranger place
to capture the sunset in the small basket lined with tinfoil
where grandma left a few dry cakes
sprinkled with sugar

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Categories: My Poems in 2014 | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Bitter Green


because of too many nightmares I’m visited by the dead
those familiar persons with ordinary words
with hobbies and bad habits
so homy /
we ride together on the horse or in the small car
we fall asleep in the bed from the doll’s house furniture

it’s too ridiculous / I am too old
to wear a dandelion flower on my chest
as a mourning sign for the sun of my childhood
when I gathered in my hands small hearts from shepherd’s purse weeds
to grow roots in another place eventually

since I have wandered on the straight road
I hide under my softly lined coat
my arms tattooed by lightnings still lively
my blood dripping in the dust
sticking like scabies onto my shoe soles //
I am ashamed to take off my shoes to follow the shortcut

the gate has moved altogether with its pillars
on the other side of the road /
I tighten my fist under the sleeve
I bend my knees and crouch
near the deserted well with the cry of a white lamb
whiter and whiter

Categories: My Poems in 2014 | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

the lemon in the egg saucer


the small woman from the attic sits cross-legged
with her pink plastic hair rollers for hours. her
life spins like the spool of thread on the sewing
machine. she sleeps wearing a flowery morning
gown in the room with a flowery wallpaper and
a secondhand carpet imitating autumn grass. she
boils her lime tree tea and dairy free pasta on the
electric boiling ring. she washes her hair with nettle
essence shampoo. once a month she goes to the
central store to see new dress designs then she reads
at midnight group portrait with lady. in a sideboard
she hides a pair of perfumed lace gloves the color of
the skin. she wears them when the spring wind blows.
on a shelf in the kitchen a grated lemon in an egg
saucer is slowly getting dry.

Categories: My Poems in 2014 | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

The Staircase


the spiral stairs banister is rusty
spiders are hidden in the corners
pigeons hustle and bustle can be heard in the attic
the old plaster smelling like sour cabbage
loses stripe after stripe absorbing autumn mist
through round and small windows

the old man fell asleep early
he played all day long with lotto pieces
counting and shuffling them many times
now he cannot make the difference
between a white and a red poppy on the lapel

the old woman forgot the rum essence flavor
she baked pancakes putting inside a drop of acetone
filling them with one year old quince jam
placing everything on a nickel silver plate
starting to knit again a large brim hat
adorned with strawberries and cornflowers

their grandsons came shaking the staircase
from its foundations
there was much more sunlight at every window
the children whistling in clay flutes
threw away the pancakes to the dog
sharing between them the lotto pieces
and the jam left in the jar

many colored yarn balls rolled downstairs
until they reached the first floor

Categories: My Poems in 2011 | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

Deserted


House snakes have disappeared from the rotten and darkened corn shed. A few dead embers lie near the stove, covered in cinders. On the small windowsill someone forgot a mouse trap. Under the stable’s rafters cobwebs hang heavy catching swallow nest crumbs. The well’s wheel got stuck, silence slithers in the whitewashed wall crevices. At a far distance blue trains sizzle, the river’s waters are swift and murky.
I should better rest in the garden, feeling the earth’s sap dragging me down, hearing old men sharpening their scythes. In those times grasses grew tall and upright. Clouds begin to gather over me, gliding on my back spine. I think it’s going to be a storm, like it was before and always.

Categories: My Poems in 2010 | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

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