Bashaw Steel

Poetry

96 posts in this topic

this poem is special as the person to whom its dedicated :))
keeping friends, one of the virtues i know, but tend to forget easily:(
 
Secret in the Steel
 
As always, blank piece of paper
That screams at me with its whiteness
Much like the storm of the dreamer
And nothing like the silence…
Secret in the Steel
 
Where are all those, promised words?
Lost somewhere between the lines
I`m cursed to seek something there
Which cannot be found
A secret in the Steel…
 
And it is there where did i learned
From someone who appear just as small
That true strength is to forgive
Not to destroy…
 
A secret to one that is known to her
Smile hidden under all those masks
Many of which cannot be heard
By the cry of the past…
Secret in forgiving…

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Fall oath
 
I have Sun frozen in my soul
Its purpose forgotten but its dreams endure
Whos will to burn is only matched
By the embrace of its icy cull...
 
It is not a power given, to use it at my own free will
But a curse bestowed gently
So me too could endure the burden that comes with it
With power...
 
Scent of summer carried upon the wind of hearts
Where my hopes are standing still
In the gardens of eternal fall
My golden chains...
 
It is not the fear itself
It is not the outcome of this battle
But something more than both
More than me...

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original:)

to feel the poem is to feel the fraction of poet`s soul

it does not need to be grand or immortal poem of well known artist

"just" some honest, deep verses of immortal spirit :))

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to translate a poem?

that is rare and remarkable talent, as most meanings of verses are 

lost in translation, you need to know those languages extremely well

while feeling the poem in both..

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So i can't join this quest, I don't read Montenegron, you don't read Dutch.

 

I wrote some pretty good onces, but how can I let you read them? :huh:

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Bashaw, I still don't get it. You want people to make new poems in English here? :unsure:

 

Read what he wrote

 

ahahah, it is not quest:D

well, poetry is primarily meant for its "native" language

dont know  :(

 
What he means is that poetry is best in its natural language. Translations can make a wonderful poem ugly.
 
If you are posting poems here, post them in english. But he welcomes if you try to translate your poems.

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that is right:))

if you can write poems, write on english, dont translate ones you wrote

on your native language, although i would like to see such effort:)

so put some verses guys, i`m looking forward to it :))

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although the some of greatest poets have that rare "power"

to put one poem in few verses, even in one verse...

your poem is deep but painfully precise, it lacks the question

it suits you well though;)

 

"I was killed by a word too strong" (ubi me prejaka rijec)-branko miljkovic

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Take me by the hand, shrouded in ice

Remove the ring that has all winters

Take my soul away from the sight

From cold sorrow`s fiery fingers…

 

Where it cant reach light of the dawn

Frozen in time, in my own escape

Spare the suffering from my mind

And my smile from the hate…

 

Truth is never what soul would want

What white lies are hidden beneath

How to get Steel sky of my head

And clouded ground under my feet…

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 I see you as the wind, trapped

 In the hair of the past

Screaming with no one to hear

 How those chains are not so vast

But which holds your dreams so very near...

 

And still, you cant reach them

The distance measured by strides of time

 And every second, every hope you hold dear

 Is taken away in the hair of the past...

 

 I see you as phoenix

 Immortal soul in flames of battle

Every feather an unyielding mark

 Of conquered death, from imprisoned life...

 

 Never stop!

 Never falter and back away

Never be the spark

When you can be, when you are

 Eternal flame in ocean of the dark...

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Touched of light and cast into darkness

To dream about all things that should be lived

Lost in songs and embraced by Silence

To live the things that should be dreamed…

 

And cursing the moments that didnt happen

So long ago, as they should be

Instead of them there is only Silence

Part of my soul, universe of my wish…

 

Waiting for that song, that will never end

For her words, in which heaven sleep

Seeking for the music that will never rest

Across her voice, across eternity…

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ah...I shall give wit to one on the spur.  I will take three objects from in front of me at this desk and then write a few lines of prose

 

speaker

light

picture

 

 

On light obscured paper, bind

a picture from the mortal mind

of thoughts of bliss and agony,

on dreams of love and felony.

The speaker tells a truth of sorts

A photo captures light but thwarts

a vision of mind's feelings there

the unseen verse, tangential fare.

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