fragments (I hate loud noises)

sometimes the sunrise add an

insight and depth to the meaning of your life.

It’s about 5 am,

I am ready to fall asleep.

every morning at the same time,

the newly initiated widows

like an alarm clock,

wake up the ambulances.

they got in fight last night,

she told him “I wish you were dead”.

you can’t take your words back

if there is no one to take them back from.

at first,

still in a delirium of her sleep,

she was relieved.

it hit her in a moment…

the lucky way for unlucky men to go.

they just refuse to wake up one day.

they are protected by their “better half”:

from old age and drinking their liver away.

I want to die like a good man dies:

in my sleep, in my bed.

but I wouldn’t want the wailing of an ambulance

to disturb my morning silence at 5am,

even if it isn’t mine anymore.

I want them come later and quiet.

I hate loud noises.

 ©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments(I saw him)

I saw him for the first time,

he walked over the bridge,

hands in his pockets,

eyes

over the rims of his tinted glasses, gazed at

 the river,

shivering from the wind,

 from the morning chill,

maybe from both,

maybe from pneumonia.

it was a month ago… .

I wait on the bridge every day

to meet him, to say “Hello”,

to take his eyes

away from the gray waters.

but there is only a river,

wind and chill.

if I am persistent,

one day I’ll meet pneumonia,

for certain.

 ©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments (just because)

all the weight taken away

from my shoulders by this moment.

I am not me anymore,

but the bird, sitting on the branch,

breathing in my newly found birdness.

the blink of an eye and I

am not a bird either.

I am the tree, still holding the memory

of the bird on my hand. I am the roots,

entwined with the earthworms,

together, we hold my body

against the planet… . The planet I am.

heavy, cold, dark, snowy, hot, polluted

and magnificently blue from the distance.

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

letters(the light)

the light of your words

flow, vibrate, break

my eyelids,

drink the dew

of my dream

from the springs of my eyes.

I left blind.

the coffin…

the night…

seconds,

bleeding marks…

the circle…

the face

of the clock

over the skin of my abdomen…

time counted, stolen, wasted….

gray smock rises

from the trembling tongue

of the fire

spreading over my spine.

consuming my bone marrow … .

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments (I walk away.)

I don’t pull my hair piece by piece,

don’t weave a net to keep you close.

you don’t sing.  you don’t play your violin.

the bird does not inspire you anymore.

you fall asleep before my words

dry on my lips ‘good bye’…

I walk the bank of the river,

piercing through its opaque skin.

who knows what monsters

prowl on the bottom, hiding

in the sediment of pollution.

I can’t drink it, swim in it.

I can’t rest by it…

I walk away.

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

letters(about you.)

not everything is about you,

just a few things,

just certain things,

important things.

and life happens in between:

before I take my shower

and brush my teeth,

before I undress and dress up.

it happens when

I feel blue, tired,

walk with my head down,

cry and fall asleep

on my sofa with the tv on,

when I have yesterday’s-cold pizza

and coffee for lunch…

there are days

when you walk through the door.

there are holidays.

and other days,

when I take Tylenol

for my headache… .

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragmentsandletters

is on Kindle as of this morning.

fragments (at first...)

at first I liked nothing about him.

I sent him away,

he kept coming back,

like a case of chronic bronchitis,

one, you can’t cough out for months.

and somehow,

with time,

I got used to his presence,

like to a useless  piece of furniture,

needed,

to hide a yellow spot of old vomit

on your white carpet… .

there was no point or meaning to it, just a shame,

one, you must keep behind a locked door.

until one day,

when he walks away… .

it was a relief, at first,

but then, I felt

an alien entity  in my chest,

between my lungs and heart,

pushing it apart, against my ribs:

growing, squishing, squashing.

I curled in my bed  

like an unborn child in a womb,

I contemplated my escape… .

an abortion was not an option,

it was rooted in my diaphragm… .

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

letters (while together)

a snowflake.

a tender whisper.

the winter dies on my lips.

your touch summons desires

in my solar plexus:

still, cold, blue, breathless…

and alive, red, vibrating

in your hands…

evaporating together…

broken flowers smells

like

lovemaking.

making

clouds to drop in sheer silk

over our skin… enmeshed, left behind…

while the vapors of our souls

soars high…

surrender in a free fall,

knowing the safe,

the bird, the wings…

while together.

while a miracle.

while love… .

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments(beyond)

beyond the world

of all the things,

beyond the stripes

of all the strings,

where  the flow stops

and the river dries,

where nights and days

sleep in embrace,

my tear would drop

and split apart:

nights from the days,

stripes from the strings

and all the things

will start to flow

in the abyss…

in the abyss….

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments

when the night

was tight

like a knot

around my neck,

and the music

was white

like spilled milk,

you played a violin

for me and your bird…

but mostly for her.

 ©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

letters(saving my dream)

he told me

-it’s time to grow up,

and stop making short cuts

anymore.

 it’s time to walk

 one road to the end…

 I smelled

a cemetery in his words…

a graveyard, a coffin…

and fat worms

gorging on my corpse…

I cut him loose.

he  told me

-I am beautiful

and he would spend

 the rest, what’s left,

his life with me,

he gave me the moon and stars.

I considered the offer

 while taking a shower.

not easy decision to make, if you ask.

I was ready, and then…

he was pinning stars

over another woman’s ears…

I took another shower, with relief…

he told me… .

well, he told me nothing,

he was silent like a medieval fortress,

like a ghost guarding the treasures,

lost in the rubble…

it was pointless…

I walked away from the creepy pallor.

he told me

- I am wandering

like a ship with a broken compass

stumbling

from  island to the island,

scattered

over the old body of the ocean,

confusing land for the land….

he told me…

but I didn’t hear him anymore,

I was in open waters

once again,

reaching for red,

like dripping blood,

sinking

in the darkness,

orb…

I tried to save it…

I always do…. 

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments(Thursday after the rain (Russian proverb)

I’d fall in love with you this Thursday afternoon

after the rain, after the storm, on my way home

when the roads would sparkle with shiny pearls,

freshly harvested in a dark cloud.

the day after, I’ll sink into unconscious,

like a ship at the bottom of the ocean,

like a fly in a jar of honey, until dead.

Sunday I’ll reserve for recovery

I’d stay in bed till noon, watch the boat

of the hangover safely sail through

the withdrawal of you.

and Monday morning I’ll start anew.

  ©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments (my silence committed suicide...)

my silence committed suicide on the railroad,

was dragged beyond the borders

of the echo, somewhere to the edge

of the earth, over and beyond….

my night, like a frightened bird, flees

in to the refuge of your eyelids, nested

in the darkness of your pupils….

my sanity, an island, in the midst

of oceanic madness, about to submerge,                                        

crushed by the weight of salt, swallowed

by the watery tentacles of the deep.

I cry like a broken horseshoe for the road,

like an avalanche, wrapped in freshly fallen powder,

like a mudslide for a missing ingredient, that held it

all together, like a parent for a child,

walked into the fog of forever.

like a motherless child.

like the last rain of the season…

my cry, my last song before my heart,

a relic, a nameless object,

gets frozen, numb, gray,

 before it will stop in the middle of a marathon,

amazed by the beauty of the transformation

of fluids into crystals.

my silence would be restored, a bird reclaimed.

I would be rescued from my last stand

from the island of sanity…

the order would spring to life

in the land of chaos.

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments (the carnival of changes)

the night dismembers the truth limb from limb.

brakes it into multitude. the carnival

of unfamiliar things.

I must decipher them by the color,

sound, smell, taste….

the first tears of early October,

cold and bitter drops over

the pale bareness of my shoulders, over

the amber remnants of the last summer,

shivering beneath my feet.

soon to be frozen.

the memory of you  like a gray solitude

of the low sky, drowned in dark waters

of a lethargic river,

spiked by the winter’s breath,

trapped in the asymmetry

of distant tales.

you are the wind on my face,

entangled with my hair, invisible,

lonesome, fluid and destructive,

trapped in the memory of a kiss,

in the taste of the sea

on my lips.

…a bird drinks from the frozen puddle.

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments(silence)

the thunderstorm hung itself

from the edge of the rainbow.

both collapsed

under the pressure

of the clear sky…

broke into fragments,

        shreds…

threaded

through the body of the night,

through the dark solitude of irises.

…confined in a breath,

 in the sound of sloshing blood-

too close

to the cochlear bone…

all of the sounds walked away,

footsteps melted with the echoes,

attached to the walls,

    slid down,

    drowned

in stale waters

of the underground.

 ©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments (thinking of...)

-thinking of my beautiful friend Jacinta-

the perfect geometry of snowflakes

melts on her face,
disappears like a breath,

like the bitter singularity of her tear…

a child curled into an orb of sleep.

life coiled onto itself with

a visible end and resilient repetition.

a grandmother whispers her tales

into fragile innocence…

memory flows…

wishes make impressions
on the path

of burning stars…

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

letters (if you can only turn around...)

if you can only turn around…

I am chipped like a note from a violin’s string,

descended into intoxication of  late spring,

dissolved in the shadows

of the cold violet petals.

I am stretched over the bones

of the unfamiliar city,

trapped in a dim shimmer

of the street lights.

I am waiting for the sign…

…if you can only turn around,

I can correct my course,

navigating by the light of your eyes,

through the rifts

in the sea of the False Mirrors.

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments (solitude in repetition)

cold blood, draped in a pickled breath

of the sinking moon…like a fish,

I swim in the dark waters

my own peripheral vision,

liquefied, when caught

in the nets of my eyes.

…a swim in the waters of solitude,

held by the gravity of repetition… 

fragments and letters

http://www.amazon.com/Fragmentsandletters-Nina-K-Orlovskaya/dp/1468004883/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1328334669&sr=1-3

fragments (dreaming together)

my voice...

the clap

of a broken twig,

in the darkest hour of the night...

low resonance

breaks the doors

of your dream.

…you let me in.

we walk hand in hand,

from room to room,

until exhausted.

the soft cloud of sleep

binds us together….

the wings of eternity 
touch our absence briefly, 
when a flaming bird

flies over the barren landscape.

the clap of a broken twig

low resonance...

brief moment...

your voice…

letters (I've lost...)

I’ve lost what I didn’t have;

wind in my hair,

a heat wave over the shifting sands.

…your shadow.

a drop of water, evaporated from my skin.

a  hope…,

drowned in the howling of a solitary beast

at the moonless night.

the last hope of the yesterday…

the broken night heals

with tight scars.

roots of the tree

will vine its escape

through the ribcage,

grow and blossom again

with transparent flowers

of a new day.

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya