READING POETRY
Posted on January 15, 2021 by magda
GLOSS
Days go past, and days come still,All is old and all is new,What is well and what is ill,You imagine and construeDo not hope and do not fear,Waves that leap like waves must fall;Should they praise or should they jeer,Look but coldly on it all.
Things you’ll meet of many a...
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Posted on January 17, 2015 by magda
Birthdays
I’ll bake tonight a rounded caketo celebrate the wish I makeI’ll lit my candles with the Moonand let them glow in nightly gloom.
I wish myself a better year,to feel and see what I can’t hear,and as a snake sheds its own skinI’d like to shed my old chagrin.
In darkened room...
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Posted on January 11, 2015 by magda
Hypocrisy
She’s dressed in black with white high heels,
A designed dress her ways reveals,
She fakes some tears with mini skills,
She hides her face and what she feels.
She wants to say: “I am a saint,
I can’t bear badness, I do faint,
I talk to angels while I paint,
I am suave, fragile and quaint”.
Her...
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Posted on July 19, 2014 by magda
From Now Until It’s Now Again
I’d like to be a drop of rain,
a tear to shine in eyes of crane,
to feel no sadness nor a pain.
From now until it’s now again.
I’d like to be a bitter chain
to hold those hearts that only drain
the human will. Those hearts too vain.
From now...
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Posted on April 21, 2014 by magda
Innocence
When falling off the cliff they cry,hurting the iris of their eye,flying before they learn to fly,whose words will kiss their tears to dry?I am the Catcher in the Rye.
The Fallen knows the Catcher’s dreamto keep alive th’ innocent gleam.The Catcher feels the Fallen’s sense:“Don’t kill the heart of Innocence!Let...
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Posted on March 11, 2014 by magda
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Posted on January 5, 2014 by magda
Apart
Her eyes were shivering a tear
while the old year was shot
she softly sighed “Happy New Year!”
And dried the tearful thought.
Her eyes were echoing the heart
its beating ten to one
the counted seconds, whole in part,
made future be outrun.
Her eyes kissed Mother’s loving hands
and Father’s forehead gray
they cry in their faraway lands
and...
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Posted on April 3, 2012 by magda
One Art
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;so many things seem filled with the intentto be lost that their loss is no disaster,
Lose something every day. Accept the flusterof lost door keys, the hour badly spent.The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:places, and...
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