#shards
Scratches on broken glass,
echoes drifting apart.
Neither distance nor time
can erase them.
What came before me
still touches me so deeply.
Memory, language, and land
flow through my veins.
The blissful days were fractured
by wounds never healed.
Stories whispered,
never reaching the community.
The victors write
the official version,
but minds and hearts hold their truths.
Mar 17, 2025
Mar 17, 2025 at 8:00 PM UTC
A porcelain doll
Shatters when she hits the floor
Only shards are left
So she mends herself again,
Again, again, and again.
Aug 1, 2024
Aug 1, 2024 at 9:30 PM UTC
The intensity with which we shatter
Those what’s-left-of-us shards that cut you deep
Brokenness and jagged edges
When prices paid with pieces feels too steep
Only two things cause our own destruction
We’re broken from without or from within
The damage goes beyond reconstruction
We can’t build what we built before again
Cracked into piles of debris on the floor
The remnants of escaped emotion’s cage
Whose seething burn couldn’t take it anymore
Disposing of it disrespects its rage
We’re broken so that something is released
Those shards remind us what we have to do
To put them back is just what matters least
But don’t cut yourself making something new. .... © Jennifer L DeLong 2/20/20
Mar 31, 2021
Mar 31, 2021 at 12:42 AM UTC
A piece of me is gone
Scattered with memories
Lustful and dreadful
At times I loose my self
Deep within myself
Searching for a piece I once had
Now scattered in unfamiliar places
The more I dig deep
The more I get broken into shards
Am not made of glass
Nor is it the element of being
Not fragile but broken
Am only human
Dec 11, 2020
Dec 11, 2020 at 4:32 PM UTC
i keep my pride under house arrest
tied to an enema of ***** soda
that stops at the border of the premises
what a great laugh crawls from the nailed headboards
and sips from my resolve
i try not to show my subordinates the pressure points I worry about
but the maintenance staff knows too much
the maintenance staff keeps us up the most
they read the cracks in the plates
silverware scratched from being thrown around
every shard is collected
the professionals recommend 3 square meals a day
my pride is offered for breakfast
3 eggs, potatoes made one way, a dragonball shaped pancake
with 5 chocolate chips, and an apple skewered sideways
coffee is poured over top soul
my pride is offered for lunch
grilled cheese, something plain and boring, chips, something also plain and boring,
Gatorade, or overdone redemption
my pride is offered for dinner
grease, a good burrito with grease, an IPA,,,toast to mix things up, a joy ride with Cassidy, a waterbed of folk music, (zero ***** given), pesto penne, another IPA, a timeshare just south, and sometimes dessert
after yelling at the neighbors some
and a few reruns on adult swim
the ***** soda kicks in with a little extra
and puts us all to sleep
in 25 years
when the sentence is over
I don’t think it will find the same 3 square meals a day
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 1:44 PM UTC
through magenta clouds
dazzling shards of eve sunlight
did cleverly cut
Jun 5, 2020
Jun 5, 2020 at 9:36 AM UTC
The shards of fallacies
of the past souls
await, the robust
youth.
The shards impale them,
as their boiling
young blood,
stands witness,
To the reminiscence
of the fallacies.
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 12:22 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
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.
Otherwise 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 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
God saw
it was good.
Adam saw
it was impressive.
Eve saw
it was improvable.
—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
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 1:25 AM UTC
Once a girl lived
Tucked in a house of glass
Kept for so long
Walking over the shards of broken
Things once whole
It hurts
But she's stuck
Little does she know
The key is herself
The broken house her mind
But its impossible
Or so it seems
To escape the house of glass without
Bleeding out
Feb 27, 2020
Feb 27, 2020 at 4:48 PM UTC
Cracks in a window
Can they be just like mine?
No it can't be
So fragile
Everywhere
But still there
It can't pick which is worse
It must all feel worse
It's getting out of hand
It can't understand
Just let me shatter it now
But how?
I don't have anything to use
Maybe my hand
I can punch it
In a blinding rage
Sadness
An ugly sadness
So painful
A pain that I can understand
But I fear someone's gonna notice
They might just get upset
"Why'd you you have to shatter it!?"
I hear them cry in an angering sad
So I just sit and stare at the cracks once again
I can't disappoint
So I sit and stare for a long time again
Maybe they are like me
It can't be
It just can't
Dec 28, 2019
Dec 28, 2019 at 3:58 AM UTC
Your name wrung
between the lines of
fresher tender cuts.
Brushing a slower finger
over dusty pages,
disturbing untold stories
that was long untouched.
Your name is
the tap-tap of hammer nails
and the crimson consummator.
The barricading name,
of the mesmeric temple of apologies
molded by unequivocal agony and anger
lying in the bleak moor
laced with your remnants.
My mind is left shambled on the floor,
shards of memories
now leaking as exudate
am I being inflamed?
If I were to paint this across the canvas,
it’d be red, blue then purple
a galaxy with mismatched constellations
on a rippled fabric of night skies.
If I were to ink you to paper,
tracing you in black
you’d diffuse, cry and leak
into a pool of red,
dripping at the edge of the paper.
You are the cactus
pricking with every temptation.
The one engrained in my figmentation
wrapped in lessons
coloring the pigmentation of my skin
with various hues.
You are the open wound
with the fabricated scab.
You are the name
that rings inside my head,
echoing through my memories
trembling shakes, tremors
through the cronies
widening the past a little
more within me.
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 2:59 PM UTC
As my love for you never fades
The shards of ice you pierced in my heart
Will never go away
Though five months have passed
You are on my mind when I drive by your old place
How when we were little we played in that bright, green grass
Now your touch reminds me of broken glass
Our music sounds like nails on a chalkboard
Though I try I can't forget the past
I dream of you every dark night
I wonder why you changed
But people never stay still in life
At least that remains the same
Though your betrayal left a gaping hole in my chest
I never stop waiting for your call
I hope one day my wandering mind will be at rest
Until then I will always feel lost and small
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 5:09 PM UTC
We live within a world full of glass.
Where light and sight
are strayed when they pass...
The things we see;
monsters that loom...
Twisted creatures all around me.
Razor shards sting;
gashes with each step.
Screams from the people ring.
through the pieces lives the demons face.
A terrible, ungodly sight.
Yet, it took me to a familiar place.
Just then became plain to see
the closer I came to the shard.
This is a world of mirrors
The creature is me.
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 3:49 PM UTC
Pondering
My state forevermore
I, who became
Broken shards
Of an intentional slip, that i bore
The Sky’s burden
Atlas’ ********
Worthless
Next to my bruises, my scarred
Shoulders had endured
Scathed, scorched
I was scorned
These pieces
Can never be pieced
Or witness a day of peace
After all
Glass shards
Are no jigsaw puzzles
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 2:03 PM UTC
floating
on a glass green sea
serenity in spite all
and yet,
serenity is not destined to stay
drowning
as glass turns to shards,
crying out for salvation
dying out
for no one responds
sinking,
with the realization
the sea was never truly serene
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC
I used to think I was messy broken
Let me explain
Like a stray rock,
chipped from a bat in some sandy back lot
Through a window
Now shattered
Through. Done. Finished.
My splintered little pieces scattered to the winds
And me, running after those small bits
Like they were loose handouts in a windy parking lot
Scrambling to catch hold of
My life
My dignity
My sanity
My love
But
The only way to amend
Is complete replacement
For I am now irreparable
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 8:13 PM UTC
The intensity with which we shatter,
Those what’s-left-of-us shards that cut you deep,
Brokenness and jagged edges matter,
When prices paid with pieces feels too steep.
Only two things cause our own destruction—
We’re broken from without or from within.
The damage goes beyond reconstruction,
We can’t build what we built before again.
Cracked into piles of debris on the floor,
The remnants of escaped emotion’s cage,
Whose seething burn couldn’t take it anymore,
Disposing of it disrespects its rage.
We’re broken so that something is released,
Those shards remind us what we have to do.
To put them back is just what matters least,
But don’t cut yourself making something new.
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 10:03 PM UTC
I am in the middle of a wake
a paper weight holding down
the pondering, wandering thoughts
of a man who commuted suicide
in the magrins
people write their sorrows
in a dialect I recognize
but do not fully understand
I read them
because they hand them to me
it is not my sorrow to take
I have no right to it
but it is their sorrow to share
broken off into shards
passed hand to hand
in hopes the sharp edges
may dull in time
I will hold each shard given
warm them in my hands
dull the edges on my flesh
before I return it to the teller
So that they are one step closer
to a picture that no longer
hurts to touch
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 11:40 AM UTC
I know we shattered
because you moved away
and I didn't bother to call you
I know we shattered
because one day I came over
and you weren't the you that I knew
I know we shattered
because we drifted apart
and I don't know
what happened to you
I know we shattered
because I only texted
for me and not for you
I know that we shattered
because I f*cked up
and you are still a part
of my broken heart
and I am now surrounded
with shards of glass
and my hands
D
r
i p
p i
n g
blood
and staining the floor
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 2:47 PM UTC
Eating every petal,
tasting falsehoods
of what they meant.
Every thorn crushed in
our last meal,
hoping shards
cut deeply on the misconstrued
hope you would taste my pain.
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 5:30 PM UTC
Live day by day
Cuz you never know
Today could be your last day
——————————————————
Seen too many lifeless bodies of good people
Guess this is not a place for the good ones
——————————————————
If you want to tell me something you should now
My time’s runnin’ out
——————————————————
i can’t tell if i will die in your hands or by them
——————————————————
If you’re reading this then it’s too late,
If you’re not my attempt failed
——————————————————
Everything ends,
I just hoped this would end with my death
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 5:48 AM UTC
I guess there is that
kind of beauty
in this world;
when the flawed
and broken shards
are picked up
and pieced together.
Though it sometimes
require bleeding cuts
and punctured hands..
..it's all worth it.
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 8:25 AM UTC