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  Apr 2 Maria
Vianne Lior
Pebble fallsβ€”no sound.
Bee, lost in lotus chambers,
forgets the way home.

Maria Apr 1
The wagon rode, laden with dreams,
Of clear happiness and fairy love.
His path was hilly, full of trees.
But he rode brightly inspite of.

The wagon rode and galloped slowly
Without any troubles and fears.
The sun shined to him tenderly
And forest gave him pure cheers.

The wagon rode and breathed a peace.
He went so breezily and calm.
It seemed that nobody again,
Never and never do him harm.

The wagon rode on tiny rocks.
And now he have to started home.
His home is sunless and no cheers.
His home is gloomy catacomb.
This poem came in response to the scene with the beggarly young man I witnessed today.
Thank you for reading it! πŸ™
Maria Mar 31
You asked me: "May be it's love?"
I didn't know, what to say.
If it's dark without you every time.
So I can't even see myself anyway.

If wine is water without you!
If the air around is more bitter than poison!
If I'm not me without you!
Every day less of you I feel like an old some.

Every my step is a step into hollow.
No forward or backward, into an abyss.
I'm empty, I'm nobody without you!
And every my next step will be amiss!

β€˜May be it's love?’ - you asked me again.
I realize that I'm lost at all.
I don't breathe, I don't live without you,
And the Universe is tiny for me in whole!
I really want to introduce you one more my poem about love. I like to write about love. Although it is probably more correct to say that I love to live by love, with love, inside and around me.
Thank you for reading! πŸ’–
Maria Mar 29
I was searching for love! I was searching for long
In eyes, looking keenly at me,
In hands, touching upon me subtly,
In words, which were a trap foresee.

I was searching for rescue painfully long time
In those others and in yourself at all.
I pinned faith on all blindly and silly
That all of you were meant for me whole.

I was searching for the truth entirely honestly
In them, in you and in myself again.
And while I was searching for, I realized, that
The truth is there, where the calmness reins.

I handed myself at the mercy of the Night.
There's no fear and there's no shame.
I'll finish my useless searches here.
The Night is the calmness! This is proclaimed!
I love the Night. For me it is a time of peace, solitude, grace and silence. It is a time of inspiration and realisation. It is often a time of making important life-changing decisions.
Thank you very much for reading! πŸ’–
Maria Mar 28
The night fell down with a silk sheet.
The city sleeps.
The night is walking silently
Through concrete heaps.

She treads regally, barely touching
The dark stones.
The night has come, smiling lordly,
Into the throne.

The night's happy. It's to her liking
People's dreams.
They're sacred. All men in them
Are almost saints.

Well now, the night rejoices and rules!
It's her time!
She scatters the stars and the moon in the sky
To sublime.  

The night put out all lanterns
In city's streets.
The city sleeps quietly and soundly
Without all feats.
Night is the real queen! She has her own rules and laws. I bow to the Night!
Thank you very much for reading this poem! πŸ’–
Maria Mar 27
You don't like new acid jazz.
It's exotic, non-native flow.
It's like a traveler, dressed for show,
With a silk neckscarf as topaz.

You don't bear the style mixture.
It's like a slapdash of free spheres.
And no need to gather then down the years.
It'll be-all a needless fixture.

You don't accept circumlocutions,
Allegories and hidden meanings.
Quotations, accents and other symbols -
These are unnecessary gleanings.

You know, you're unbearably stubborn
You can't stand any fancy guessing.
You're far from a beauty of word expressing.
Sorry, but you're monotone.
I sometimes feel genuinely sorry for such monotone people.
Thank you for reading! πŸ’–
  Mar 26 Maria
Kurt Philip Behm
Saying
something witty
while having nothing
to say

Is like
spitting in the wind
to stay out
β€” of the spray

(Dreamsleep: March, 2025)
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