The passing skies, the passing breeze.
The swallow lies, the hollow trees.
The watch of time, above the chime.
I watch it began, I watch it end.
A marble there, rolling flair.
Things stop, things go.
It hops, it will glow.
You see closer, you see thin.
No closure, no end.
See atom to atom, it’s growing thin.
You see quark to quark, no end.
It’s moving, the abyss.
I grasp what isn’t, truly bliss.
It grasps what is, It grasps to began.
The small ticks of an atom scan.
You know it is not real, for it is.
You see again, you see then.
Time changes, what stops?
The rages, the pops.
You look, a broken glass.
You’ll never find, what no one’s asks.
Think again, what is.
That can, shall end.

They said,
“Enjoy your childhood.”
But forgot to mention
how the world
starts weighing more
the moment
you understand it.

Is this the end—
the final wilt of a flower that never bloomed?
My name fades like ink
washed away by merciless rain,
my dreams crumble
like abandoned sandcastles at dusk.

Where is the wildfire
that once roared inside me?
Now I am a candle,
melting without a flame,
a shadow chasing a sun
that never rises for me.

What is the point of pain
if it never runs dry?
It stretches like an endless ocean,
each wave heavier than the last,
dragging me deeper—
where light cannot reach.

I walk a road no one else takes,
where streetlights are ghosts,
where even the wind forgets to whisper.
The river beneath the bridge writhes,
never still, never calm,
just like me.

God, was it too much to ask
Wished for some hurdles to lessen,
But even the roadside grass
Knows no mercy under the weight of passing feet

I never wanted to beg,
but mercy tastes sweet
when you are starving.
Still, no hand reaches out,
no voice calls my name.

I tried to belong,
but I am the night sky—
swallowing all color,
never reflecting back the light.

Let me breathe—
but the air is an ocean,
and I am drowning in silence.

Want someone to skip a beat of my heart
Want my soul to rest without vanishing?
Want someone to notice—before I am gone?
God, is it really too much to ask?

Who is right—us or them?
None stand pure, all condemn.
Same mistakes, the same old tricks,
a world that bends to the strongest sticks.

They want what they want—flawless, bright,
a hollow dream wrapped up in light.
A lie that grips, that shapes the mind,
none escape, none unwind.

Broken thoughts, blind beliefs,
like flies drawn close to tainted grief.
They circle, they feed, they take their share,
but none ask why, none even dare.

All fear when new thoughts rise,
the steps of change beneath closed eyes.
A world still wears the same old gloves,
different hands, but still it shoves.

Never bow to a stick, break free,
step ahead, seek, question, see.
Rise before they bring decay,
before they mold minds into clay.

No stick will feed the hungry mind,
no chains can hold the ones who find—
the truth, the cracks, the space between,
where freedom waits, unheard, unseen.

From a bench in the park,
I saw myself walking.

And I thought,
he looks good,
he works, he writes,
he does what he loves,
he has something to offer.

What I offer has value,
I have value.

10 days,
and 20 nights.

Sleeping,
but never resting.

I close my eyes,
tell my mind,
"You must stop!".

Silence arrives,
the calm before the disaster.

What will happen tomorrow?
And your love?
The payment?
The salary?

I want my body
to melt into the sheets,
to receive an embrace from the bed.

For the pillow
to absorb my thoughts.

For my soul to leave,
and return with the dawn.

I want to sleep,
so that in the morning I wake up,
as if yesterday
had never existed.

Standing up front
Watching the  eyes
Looking in depths
Deep inside,
Finding meaning
As to nothing ,
Exploring with hope
Core to those eyes ,
Found the reflection-
The reflection of mine.

The strange curious eyes
Of mine watching the eye
To those of mine and
so to ME
Exploring the self  into the
Core ,
Like a boat amidst
the sea .
I asked the mirror what do u reveal
"In response it just reflected me" .

The question that is ,going through me
When I was a kid or  when I am grown up
the thing which resides within ,the one who grants it
I don't know whether it's me or someone ,
Full of truth or lie whichever is it  Just tell me
What am I?

It's not real ,it's not fake ,
Curious for world nearby lake
Thinking in nights ,dreaming in day
Whether it's me , my soul or someone else
I don't know what i take it as a role or just a lie
Whichever is it Just tell me
What am I ?

Existence , persistence, patience not so be true to be truth,
The things I know ,why nobody knows?
Feelings, strength, emotions ,dreaming about it but what takes
Us to exist and extinct if we don't know the relation,
The relation of being in reality,or rather in fake all around it ,
Everything till now was just a fallacy , us to smile or just cry
Whichever it is just tell me
What am I ?

the stillness after a long, hard cry
Friday night after a workweek from Hell
the cool down after an intense workout

Peace is so very hard to find
Once found, impossible to hold

A slippery fish
It slips through my white-knuckled, calloused fists
Leaving me empty and longing

Always longing



© 2025 Joan Zaruba. All rights reserved.

Sitting on the beach,
a gray day,
her in my lap.

An anonymous beach,
in Tuscany.

My mind speaks,
it won’t stop.

My mind
wants to write.

There are poets
who never fell in love.

There are people in prison
who committed no crimes.

White gloves
hiding atrocities.

Strong people
with broken hearts.

There is love
within heartbreak.

Religious men
who don’t believe in God.

Judges of life
with their own transgressions.

Thinkers who do not think,
and lovers who do not love.

There are free minds
trapped behind walls.

There are vagabonds
more cultured
than your professor.

There are salty rivers,
and love that never meets.

There are those with millions
in the bank,
yet empty hearts.

Today,
I am grateful
to have found you.