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Samvel Feb 2018
There once lived a boy
Who lived on a farm.
He spent every day
Taking care of barn.

He walked many miles,
At times when he could.
To go see sometimes
A girl that he loved.

He'd bring her flowers
That he picked himself,
His soul felt aroused
At sight of her face.

Long after some hours
They'd go for a walk.
There was an old tower
On top of the rock.

They'd get there by dawn
And celebrate life,
And bound to grow
Was mutual love.

This tale  is as simple
As wind that blows high,
Or indigo ripple
On lake before night.
Samvel Feb 2018
The silhouettes of flying clouds
Remind me of forgotten tales,
The memories of broken vows
And loud random passing trains.

And where do they flow today?
Forgetting sense of time and purpose.
Or is it that they run away?
From current state of common chaos.

Fly away, oh, fly away.
But your shadows will remain,
Always showing me the way
Under sunshine or in rain.

And at horizon delivered
I see white clouds coming back.
At times when it's neither day
nor night.
Enshrouding my floating being
With light.
Samvel Feb 2018
That moment
               When all falls
Into perfect place
               And stars align
In certain matter.

I wish of happiness,
    My lovely friend
And welcome guidance
                 By returning debt.

I feel emotions,
Shooting through my brain.
Complete  devotion
Of a mindful strength.
      And mind with body,
By force unknown.
    Together strong,
No longer grow.

Long distances,
If looked upon from space,
No longer long,
                 Good riddance!
Samvel Jan 2018
Sometimes I really wonder,
What would it be like,
To be like a thunder,
Always ready to strike.

And yet there are days,
Whit this simple blue sky.
And warm sunny rays,
That make me wanna fly.

There are also some nights,
When stars seem like flakes,
And moon slowly glides
Upon reflection in lake.

Beauty really has no limits,
Every given present time,
There's always chance to seize it,
Words like thunder, strike with rhyme.

All I see is nights follow days,
Or the other way around.
We are dust in the space,
In the train, Nowhere-bound.
Samvel Jan 2018
Tic tac, tic tac, tic tac,
It’s the sound I hear at night
Of a clock that’s up to brag
Of it’s skill to move the time.

Tic tac, tic tac, tic tac,
Every second in the dark
Leaves inevitable mark
On a heart that stopped to hark.

Tic tac, tic tac, tic tac,
Even candles know the tact,
For I see it’s burning tongues,
Kissing air in the glass.

Tic tac, tic tac, tic tac,
Coexisting dark and light,
Moving arrow never stops,
Serving purpose of a guide.

Tic tac, tic tac, tic tac,
I hear you whisking into night,
Sleepless, one and only clock,
Softly bragging in the dark.
Samvel Jan 2018
A traveler's best worst friend, -  
      A path paved with round questions.
      Endeavor worth of an attempt,
      To dive without hesitations.

      Crawling doubts went to the dickens,
      For today he made up a draft.
      Only maybe his thoughtful believing,
      The onliest gift that he ever got.
      New ideas got their innings,
      They are better than before.
      Many choices to begin with,
      Does he know what they are for?

      Mindful state eventually is winning,
      And seeker ends up being a paver.
      He knows the end is only a beginning,
      And road he built will lay forever.
Samvel Jan 2018
I remember the time,
                    When I was so fright less,
                   I committed small crimes
                    And broke into gardens.
                      I sat on the station
              And watched trains that pass by,
                    And party's duration
                     Was  not on my mind.

                     I remember your smile
                    And emotions it brought.
                    What a beautiful time
                       To be living abroad.

                     There's always a light
                      At the end of each way.
                       I am doing alright.
                     Shall you ask me again.

                     Oh, things I remember!
                      At the end of the day,
                     Only few of them matter.
                       What else can I say
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