Thinking about the Past (Part III)

            Spring has come, and there is so much to think about... However, the past always remains in the memory...

CT

Thinking about the Past (Part III)

 

III.
“Six lions have escaped in Nairobi” – says CNN.
And I look at the city and smile –
It will never escape from me, I know.
It is still faithful to those who have tamed it. Yet, I have not.
The city is looking in the mirror.
I can’t say what it’s seeing, perhaps the image in its eyes.
Now, as the sky has hidden its azure and Jupiter has been dreaming the star dream,
The city is showing me something I have never seen –
Some dragons are flying among the planets,
Some pixies are jumping onto the heads of witches and wizards –
No, it is not a Harry Potter world – it is something I have never read about and imagined.
It must be city’s friend or just a comrade.
I like the times when it shows me its friends,
Since I adore fantastic creatures and paranormal entities that can even wave to me from their part of the world.
They are all weird, extraordinary and agitated, not like me.
I’ve been always allured by the sacredness of their nature,
By their ability to induce the will to mystery.
However, the city is not so much enthusiastic about them.
It looks at them, and there is no wonder and fascination in its eyes.
I hope it will give me some signs, when I should bow and greet them at the drop of a hat.
The remote city does not give me any signs. It has fallen asleep.


Yours,
Sam

Thinking about the Past (Part II)

             Here is the second part of my writing. Hope it will hint some new ideas and thoughts. Meanwhile, I will work on the third one.

 CT

Thinking about the Past (Part II) 

II.
A new day has come, and we are on a walk –
The city is very silent today, as usual, however.
Its eyes are closed and it bothers me –
I cannot decipher the cluster of thoughts that have been tossing in its head.
It does not open its eyes even for a second.
I get nervous and worried –
What if it never lets me join the secret club of quietness?
What if I never feel joyous and vivacious with the parabolas of its jumping?
What if I cannot taste the bitterness of its tears on my lips?
I look at the city and imagine all these crumbs of my existence with horror…
I do not want it to leave me. I have never called it “he”, though I badly needed it.
The city lies on the ground and chuckles.
Chuckles! When I feel so terribly… I will call it “he” anyway some time.
I will never forgive myself this weakness, but I will certainly lose control,
Because I want to lose it. I want the city to supervise me.
How stubborn it is! I ask, and plea, and swallow the promises, but it won’t do it.
It has vowed sobriety and chastity.
Sometimes, I’m even sure I understand the city.
I take its paw and count the toes. They are as smooth as the ice on the Bondi Ice Rink.
The city looks at me (at last) and its eyes show me the panorama from Sydney Tower.
I look carefully at every single window and see people passing by inside.
Several seconds melt before I notice that the city’s fur is growing damp…
When did it begin crying? I wonder. At what moment of my fancy journey?
It will never tell me though. And I do not need to know it –
I just take it into my hands, as it has diminished to the size of a kitten, as though shrunk away.
I can see its glossy fur starting to move slowly,
It’s breathing has become very profound and remote.
It has fallen asleep.
 


Yours,
Sam

Thinking about the Past (Part I)

              Welcome to my world of writings and poetry! I haven't posted for a couple of days, as I've been thinking about a series of poems (well, I can't even name them poems) or it's better to say some pieces of writing, as I haven't made up a name yet:) You can suggest some ideas as for the name of the genre, if you happen to read them till the end:))
             Anyway, here is the first part of the series. Hope you'll share your ideas whether it's worth reading.

CT

Thinking about the Past (Part I)

I.
On the vast green pillows lies the lion of a city.
Its curvy streets have not been tarnished by the man's feet.
Its shaggy trees have never been blown up by the man's hands.
Its lofty lakes have neither been drunk nor dried.
The city of glory and peace, the city of wisdom and eternity.
Elysium of a city, Dinotopia of a city, Wonderland of a city.
There are no cathedrals though. Not one.
It has lost its meaning long ago, when the kings rained and the horses drowned.
It has forfeited its origin with the absence of those who would pronounce it.
One tongued pound has never seen the blood of the latter on its flesh,
Two hearted Themis has not tried to catch the soul of each,
Three eyed monsters have never blinked to the latter,
Four legged boxes have not hidden the latter under the black,
Five headed muscles have neither forced nor allured the latter by their colorful heads.
The city is calm and independent.
It has spread its paws and mews in satisfaction.
I comb its silky hair and hear the melting air rushes under its lips –
It has fallen asleep.

      

Sincerely,
Sam