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Svetoslav Mar 14
The waves of the dam
near Ogosta Stadium are raging,
and the opponent of the Glory
is insecure and afraid.

Powerful choruses
the hosts sing
because the moment is coming
for a convincing win.

This is FC Montana.
Club with heart and a century of history,
with ups and downs flooded
always striving for the top and a better change.

With a school springboard for talent,
the only one that is free.
Coaches who believe in children
and in their future glorious successes.
The traditional colors are blue, white and red -
gathering people in a sacred union.

Blue hearts tremble in a fast rhythm,
expecting the match to conquer.
Small and big fans
with songs they strive,
the loyalty for their team to sustain
and give the necessary support.

Every day they long
for the strong emotions,
they share for the future.
This is a poem for my favorite football club and is translated to English language.
Svetoslav Mar 7
lots of tasty foods
colorful seasons changing
as Black Sea shivers
This haiku poem is for my country ''Bulgaria'' and the City of Montana
b Jun 2019
I try to keep dry eyes
Over the passes
‘round the bend
To endless fir

But Montana beats through
My already aching soul
Tears come steady like
That old river to the west

Crossing Ninemile and
I think of you
Laying in the tall bear grass
Bitter root marks the way

'Lewisia Rediviva'

There’s a love song
On  morning’s breeze
And we’re on our way to the top of this
Sleeping town

The engine coughs but
We’ll make it home all right
Home on the other side of the
Painted blue with distance
Heart torn on the peaks
Kyle Kulseth Apr 2018
Buzzing drinks, this purple sky
shrink around the orange street lights.
You told me once, it might be nice
          to know what the look
          of a winning hand looked like.

Cliched sighs were my reply.
Kept me from at least two lies.
Lines of Alaise, I'm swinging blind.
I'll play your best cue as it lies.

               Sing something sweet to me
               Raise your brown eyes to meet our city.
               My blue ones always sink;
               when the chorus kicks in
                    you look so pretty.

               I know you're not right for me.
               And, baby, I'm no good for anybody.
               But at least we share some needs
and the midnight view from the bridge on Orange Steet.

Stumbling steps and shaky laughs
and creasing lines in clasping hands.
I told you once I'd take a chance
          to see the sly curve
          of your wine-soaked shy glance

Buzzing signs, citrus street lights
Let's fall in love with urban blight.
Our voices loud, we're walking blind.
So here's my best play, one last time.

               Sing something sweet to me.
               Close my blue eyes--I love this city.
               Your brown eyes sing to me.
               We're the chorus now, babe--
                    you're bright, but I'm witty.

               Know it's been a ******* week.
               And I know I'm no good for anybody.
               But let's still our shaking knees
    and kiss a new year on the bridge on Orange Street.
Kyle Kulseth Apr 2017
I've been a feature here for four years now.
You're an armchair or a doormat
Once you've been around

I wanted fresh breath and a brand new face.
Maybe a companion just to
take up space beside
my side.

But the "EXIT" light was on too long.
"Eventually, they heed it or they just become
fading notes in a song
that we forgot we sung."

Or at least that's what you told me...

Or at least that's what I'll write here...

And what about you...?

It's a tangling grid of street names I
tangled on my tongue
3 inches under my eyes
     (They ask directions).

An end result of a series of
maybe-good decisions
I made 4 years ago.
     (Seek validation).

And what about you...?

There's a comfort here we can't escape,
take two for granted
and call to cancel coffee dates.

There's an ease that breeds friendships like ours,
Convenient and seasonal;
Friendships that really aren't.

"Rose Park" names our neighborhood
A few blocks slant, we prob'ly shouldn't
talk today...
Similar coordinates
A useless map. Mistake by any
other name...

Second chances, we won't get them.
And I guess we don't deserve them.

The State's an acci-
     dental sigh.
The town's a too-comfortable lie.
And you, I guess
are just another neighbor of mine.
CastorPolydeuces Dec 2016
the coaxing leering laughter and the coke crusted smiles hold me together through my daily trials until the mountains fade and plains stretch far and my childhood chains resurface along with old scars.
i hate the country.
Luke Jun 2016
these foothills
rolling in pine and
grassland meadows,
where silvery lupine
follow the melting snow,
hint of the mountains to come
in spiny crags that
catch a cumulus pocked sky
cottonwood tufts rain
this day after solstice
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