#scales
you crossed the river
built something peculiar
but it’s yours
you can embellish and relish
you can decide if you want white or reddish
possibly the most in control you’ve been
yet something teeters on the fringe
the sunlight basking in
are the puppets the limit to my mind?
the sunlight too bright?
i can refute and dispute all that misalign
but i can rest safely in this nest
built branch by branch
i thought it would be a sweet spot for us
never imagined the rock would sink us
maybe i did
but that’s neither here nor there
i still long for you wearing your sweater here
i think i can conjure or maybe i am scared
my heart broke beyond repair, it’s unfair
the scales will balance, i reduce my fears
but god if you are really out there
do you care?
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 9:30 AM UTC
If I were to go play Fiddler on the Roof;
I'd say, no one knows the truth?
No one knows the truth from fact.
The truth, being median.
Fact, being, which, either side believes.
I wish that I had a measuring cup for either side of the scales.
When we stop speaking,
We can, always, listen to someone else.
We get that yitter-yatter
FORMS of truth everywhere.
But I need to learn to just "Let It Be".
©2026Ellen Finn
Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 7:21 PM UTC
~for all of us, we wee
musicians of language~
and Moni Nichter
===========
neither linguist or musicologist.
not scholar, not student,
these are not my attributes,
characteristics or skills,
not a confess, just a blessing that wasn't mine to receive
perhaps,
if in my meager possess,
there were a skill, overlapping yours, intermingling,
*(do you hear the music in that word,
the ding-a-lingo-ing of "intermingling"?)*
could be, maybe, the heated flush one feels,
when cogently-new-knowing
a patterns of recognition
evolving from the daily oceans of sounds,
sound waves, waves upon waves upon waves touch~clashing,
that traverse, transverse, our collective tissues connective,
upon crossbeams that support our
consensual commonality of senses,
in whatever language and culture
we primately, or even privately, inhabit,
this
overlapping, I love, I cherish, I take,
to this music with/of lovely words
*(do you hear the waves
in my brain, the words I know, washing ashore,
leaving the wet sand,
that's are the building blocks that we all own?)*
new words washed up yesterday,
"new scales of language"
language,
the great divisor,
surely, many of us have experienced the
helplessness of infancy,
when we travel to another country where
we are helplessly stranded, shocked by our inabilities,
when senses are blocked by the
scales of language that our brain cannot
iterate, not even once…
a new music, a new scale
I pulse with excited fear,
new music to learn,
how came we to be so blessedly challenged?
nml. 10/15/25 a progression
Oct 15, 2025
Oct 15, 2025 at 10:23 PM UTC
Humans
in scales
are in
touch,
they
glide in
the waters
of the starry
skies, the dust
of nebulas
move and
dream
as clouds,
all is in
silence,
and the true
music of
love
begins.
Sep 3, 2023
Sep 3, 2023 at 3:26 AM UTC
Little
flowers
opened
as you
kissed me
lightly,
the petals
under the
moonlight
dance,
we wore
the robes
of the stars,
and gazed
upon the
tides, we
wondered
how they
beheld
a dream,
always
there
as the
sea of
our
arms,
gilded
in silver
scales,
returning
to a
home
where
you keep
these
hands of
mine
close, be
delicate,
for you
hold my
heart
and
yours.
Apr 13, 2022
Apr 13, 2022 at 9:08 AM UTC
Order out of chaos
The scale that never ends
Find the tonic of the key
Sustain then bend
Skill comes from discipline
Run the scale again
Jan 24, 2021
Jan 24, 2021 at 9:44 AM UTC
I sing along to sad songs
Because another lover have left me alone.
I cry in silence
Because I lack the balance ----
Between love | hate
The scales always tip, when the Heartbreaker heart breaks.
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 9:50 PM UTC
It's like a dark cloud weighing on my conscience
What a cliche thing to say in a world full of dark clouds
For all my transgressions, I beg forgiveness from the eye that sees all.
For when I am called upon by the looker
To be judged for all my doings
I will be forced to look through the face of judgement
And recognize that the truth is sanctioned in the balance of the universe
And the balance is scaled politely on the shoulders of giants
That scoure the Earth in search of gold hearts and diamond tear drops
Leaving behind nothing more than bleak hopes and dreams casted out into the darkness of nothing.
Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 5:36 PM UTC
Vera Pavlova: English Translations of Russian Poems by Vera Pavlova
Shattered
I shattered your heart;
now I limp through the shards
barefoot.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Seasons
Winter―a beast.
Spring―a bud.
Summer―a bug.
Autumn―a bird.
The rest of the time I'm a woman.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pygmalion
Immortalize me!
With your bare, warm palm
please sculpt and mold my malleable snow.
Polish me until I glow.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Scales
Scales:
on the one hand joy;
on the other sorrow.
Sorrow is the weightier;
therefore joy
elevates.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Muse
A muse inspires when she arrives,
a wife when she departs,
a mistress when she’s absent.
Would you like me to manage all that simultaneously?
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stone Wall
You, my dear, are my shielding stone:
to sing behind, or bash my head on.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fluttering
Remember me as I am this instant: abrupt and absent,
my words fluttering like moths trapped in a curtain.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Flight
I have been dropped
and fell from such
immense heights
for so long that
perhaps I still
have enough
time to learn
how to
fly.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Three versions of Vera Pavlova's "tightrope" poem:
I test the tightrope,
balancing a child
in each arm.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I walk a tightrope,
balanced by a child
in each arm.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I test the tightrope,
balanced by a child
in each arm.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
God saw
it was good.
Adam saw
it was impressive.
Eve saw
it was improvable.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vera Pavlova is a Russian poet. Born in Moscow, she is a graduate of the Schnittke College of Music and the Gnessin Academy of Music, where she specialized in music history. She is the author of twenty collections of poetry, four opera librettos, and the lyrics to two cantatas. Her poetry has appeared in The New Yorker and other major literary publications. Keywords/Tags: Pavlova, Russian, translations, epigrams, woman, female, shards, seasons, scales, tightrope, child, arm, sorrow, joy, shattered, heart, broken, glass, limp, limping, barefoot, snow, sculpt, mold, polish
Mar 20, 2020
Mar 20, 2020 at 2:37 AM UTC
Sneaky, scaly,
They live in a valley
Slimy, wormy
Not worthy of taxidermy
Patterned all pretty
Not welcome in the city
They have no pity
Very nasty and gritty
Some have a rattler
The worst tattler
Don't even speak like a prattler
Natures guerilla battler
Narrow slits for eyes
Whoever is bit dies
They have no allies
They are an unpleasant surprise
Sneaky, scaly,
They live in a valley
Slimy, wormy
Not worthy of taxidermy
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 2:03 PM UTC
Goodbye,
at long last.
You are not the girl i fell in love with.
A fascinating trick,
a banshee in disguise,
a charmer with scales.
you will not trick me anymore.
I will never let you.
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 8:11 PM UTC
You can pin me down
But shattered scales will be all that is left
Wings bloodied
By a heart u n b l e e d i n g
Jul 11, 2019
Jul 11, 2019 at 10:22 AM UTC
The number on the scale
Becomes very real.
When food becomes kilojoules
And
Cravings become nil.
The number on the scale
Shouldn't be like a rusty nail.
Causing a wound
that never seems to heal,
that spreads till you're ill.
The number on the scale
is now fear.
For somehow worth is
Equals to
The number on the scale.
The number on the scale
Haunts till
The number on the scale
Decreases to
The (smaller) Number on the scale.
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 1:55 PM UTC
I'm under the influence of these scales
Controlling my every action
Twisting views of my reality
The distorted reflections
in the mirror
Remind me of past memories
And what's to come
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
Millions of minutely small scales
Cover its delicately sheer membrane.
refracting light scatters our sight
and only iridescent hues are seen.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 12:55 PM UTC
There can be no good
Without bad
There can be no light
Without dark
There can be no happiness
Without sadness
But isnt it funny how there cant be a positive without a negative, yet the negative seems to be heavier...?
Humour me
It is better to be good, or for something to be good
That would be, well good.
So to balance out the good, there must be equal bad, right?
'cept the bad outweighs the good you see. Bad is heavier and overshadows the good.
Bad > Good
It is preferable for there to be light
Light is in a generalistic sense, a good thing.
So to balance out all the light, we must also have the dark
'cept once again, the dark overshadows the light. The darkness is worse than the light and presents itself as a heavier presence.
Dark > Light
Last but not least, oh ** ** Happiness, it is the greatest thing,
Thus it is a very good thing.
But to balance out the happiness, sadly there must be sadness, and sadness is one of the heaviest emotions because it outweighs the good, the light and the happiness by so much, the happiness is almost non-existent
Sadness > Happiness
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
Tօɖaʏ, tɦɛ tաɛռtʏ sɛʋɛռtɦ
Yɛaʀ օʄ ʍɨռɛ ɮɨʀtɦ;
Tɦɛ Lɨɮʀa sċaʟɛs sɦaʟt ɮɛ ɮaʟaռċɛɖ
Tօ tɦɛ ɦɛaʋɛռ's aʟօʄt I aʍ քɛʀċɦɛɖ.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC
He blew the Scales off my heart
showed me our world,
it's locked in my blue diary
buried inbetween the mist of the dark ink.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
My skin looks like scales,
And I don't even know
What to make of my scars
Anymore.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC