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Berenice  Jul 2019
Graceful Swan
Berenice Jul 2019
Elegantní Lebed

On Vltava waters
I saw a Graceful Swan,
Peaceful and modest
Full of quiet confidence
She looked like a Fawn

I fall in love with her
From thousand miles away,
Frightened of thoughts
My crazy mind created

Swan spread her wings
To save me from darkness
I was one step away from jumping,
She embraced my sadness
And it felt like a heaven
Invited me to her secure haven

She patiently waited
Playing down her strength
Showing me a way to the calmness I crave

Above Vltava flow
In my mind I see
Gorgeous Swan dances
Twosome with Firebird

6.7.2019
To O.
Allison Rose Oct 2013
It looks like the entire city is on fire.
Black statues on the Charles Bridge
like charred remains from the blaze coming off the shining roof of the National Theatre.

And you might be able to picture it
when I say gothic towers glow like points of flame,
But you really have to go yourself to see what I mean when I say
there's a wind tunnel running from the Florenc metro station to Naměstí Republiky
that catches in it a gust of a thousand people in shades of red and black and gold.

If you are in the right place at the right time,
you can see the moment the streets lamps all light up in unison
by some command of the darkening sky
And suddenly everything is picturesque, even if you don’t know what that means.

Your favorite park might be the popular place for adolescent delinquency
but that doesn’t change the way the light from the setting sun
turns the Vltava into melted gold.

David Černy’s fluorescent ******* signals to the world
That here in Prague the world’s on fire.
Donall Dempsey Jan 2020
7 TIMES 7 IS...?

When I was four
I fretted

over things I couldn't do
like tie my tie...tie my shoe

laces were
beyond me

as were such things as
7 times 7 is.  . ?

My Da  would get it right
Every time...I'd...eh...forget.

Or he would tie my laces
so they couldn't come undone.

Or do me a splendid
Windsor knot.

For the life of me I
simply could - not.

And when I grew up to be
5

would I know by then
maybe...by 10.

Was never sure
about being sure.

Ties...laces...times tables
defeating me.

My father all love
and hugs and smiles.

Now them...them I
could do.

And my father could
pin a river down

a blue line flowing
in an atlas

watching it wriggle
under his thumb.

"Vltava!"
he'd command it

and it would pause
to listen to its name.

He told me the river
lived in Prague

and that was somewhere
I...forget.

And here I am at almost 64
gazing at the Vltava in person.

Know it for what
it is

and all its swans
all its swans.

I even now where
Prague is now.

I stand in its
December.

My father who art in Heaven
I pray to you

as I used to do
when I was 2.

You better
than any God

I could ever
imagine.

So here I be in Praha
watching the waters

of the Vltava
repeating a Czech tongue twister

laughing at its absence
of vowels.

"Prd krt skrz drn, zprv zhlt hrst zrn!"" *
What a howl!

Still have trouble with
those ****** laces.

My wife laughs as
they come undone and. . .come undone.

**** them!
**** them!

Can only make a bad stab
at a Windsor knot.

Get by by
not wearing a tie.

Hugs and loves
and smiles?

I know them
by heart.

I hug you
in my mind's eye.

Know now
that 7 times 7

is and always will be.
. . .
***

* Prd krt skrz drn, zprv zhlt hrst zrn!

A mole farted through grass, having swallowed a handful of grain!
Adasyev  Oct 2016
***
Adasyev Oct 2016
***
Silnice unavené auty
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Děti unavené sledováním porna
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Přítomnost unavená budoucností
že by mělo přijít ještě něco dalšího.
Although this is ostensibly about shoelaces, times tables and swans in Prague...it is obviously a love poem for me Da....now that I can't bring him anywhere...I bring him everywhere.

7 TIMES 7 IS...?

When I was four
I fretted

over things I couldn't do
like tie my tie...tie my shoe

laces were
beyond me

as were such things as
7 times 7 is.  . ?

My Da  would get it right
Every time...I'd...eh...forget.

Or he would tie my laces
so they couldn't come undone.

Or do me a splendid
Windsor knot.

For the life of me I
simply could - not.

And when I grew up to be
5

would I know by then
maybe...by 10.

Was never sure
about being sure.

Ties...laces...times tables
defeating me.

My father all love
and hugs and smiles.

Now them...them I
could do.

And my father could
pin a river down

a blue line flowing
in an atlas

watching it wriggle
under his thumb.

"Vltava!"
he'd command it

and it would pause
to listen to its name.

He told me the river
lived in Prague

and that was somewhere
I...forget.

And here I am at almost 64
gazing at the Vltava in person.

Know it for what
it is

and all its swans
all its swans.

I even now where
Prague is now.

I stand in its
December.

My father who art in Heaven
I pray to you

as I used to do
when I was 2.

You better
than any God

I could ever
imagine.

So here I be in Praha
watching the waters

of the Vltava
repeating a Czech tongue twister

laughing at its absence
of vowels.

"Prd krt skrz drn, zprv zhlt hrst zrn!""
What a howl!

Still have trouble with
those ****** laces.

My wife laughs as
they come undone and. . .come undone.

**** them!
**** them!

Can only make a bad stab
at a Windsor knot.

Get by by
not wearing a tie.

Hugs and loves
and smiles?

I know them
by heart.

I hug you
in my mind's eye.

Know now
that 7 times 7

is and always will be.

*

Prd krt skrz drn, zprv zhlt hrst zrn!

A mole farted through grass, having swallowed a handful of grain
THE VLTAVA PAYS NO MIND TO TIME

the giant
metal head
of Kafka

turned and
turned again
staring at city

that even he couldn't have
conceived of this
strange future

high above
this night scape
an orange window glows

presenting a parent
teaching her child
basic ballet steps

it is this
tiny instant
of a humanity

that my mind
will hold as
a souvenir

they are both
only silhouettes
a shadow theatre

puppets in
demi-plié
grand plié

I watch entranced
at now jetés
now sautés

a man with an owl
perched upon his wrist
passes nonchalantly by

a young girl
singing softly
to her self

Tom Petty's  Wildflowers
"You belong with your love
on your arm."

the Old Town
Astronomical Clock
tells us it is 11

and the twelve apostles
go for a walk as
the tourists gawk
Phillip Gu Jun 2020
You should receive the postcards by June
when I reached Prague.
The old town square looks different
after the tension of March.
We hold meetings to discuss
how to nestle down in the chamber of
the astronomical clock. From there you can
see the pinnacle of the Cathedral
occupied by the petrels; and the bricks
on the square, an unrecognizable grid seen
from above, run over by burning churns.
Four months of conference
bores everyone. Especially those who
don't belong to this land.
The gannets and cormorants. They want
to lead all the beaks and feather, and
have all the rooftops and chandeliers.
But that's strongly
opposed. They did't grow up on
the bank of Vltava, and slide through
the eyot at dusk, the sand of which comes
from Dresden. They also held up meetings there
and isolated us, in spring. All these large
coastal breeds, coming from the north
where democratic is achieved among all.
Only to have more meetings, and endless
motions. Quarrels with the flutter of wings
while preaching their advanced
methods of hatching. But that doesn't work
for us. We are pigeons with
a sense for the diretion. Our breed lived on this
land for centuries. We witnessed this city
built from cobble, and we shall live our way
until it burned to ashes. These intruder must
be evicted. At all cost.
So we will fight, my dear. We'd fight until
the very last bleed out. We'd fight until
they go back to north. We'd fight until
the summer falls.

— The End —