standing over the ledge…
the abyss hangs from the edge,
in its last attempt
to bring the end to the end.
the moon of tonight
will wrap my skin
tight in its light
we dance….
©3/31/2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
letters(tell me, you love me)
tell me, you love me,
stop the rain in midair,
let the drops absorb time,
let it be still and stunned.
open my heart just for a moment
and the rainbow will fall,
spilling the blue over the grass
and dress the flowers in eternal red.
the birds will pick the rest of the strings
and make a nest for their purple eggs
until they hatched, until the yellow song
will fly away over the blue landscape,
until it will lose a feather.
it will land on my face,
a soft memory of a cloud, sky, sunlight…
the touch of the gentle breeze on my lips,
like a kiss…
invisible…
©3/29/2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya
stop the rain in midair,
let the drops absorb time,
let it be still and stunned.
open my heart just for a moment
and the rainbow will fall,
spilling the blue over the grass
and dress the flowers in eternal red.
the birds will pick the rest of the strings
and make a nest for their purple eggs
until they hatched, until the yellow song
will fly away over the blue landscape,
until it will lose a feather.
it will land on my face,
a soft memory of a cloud, sky, sunlight…
the touch of the gentle breeze on my lips,
like a kiss…
invisible…
©3/29/2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
letters(cold breath.)
my eyes have forgotten their existence.
my heart refused to sync with the rhythm
of my breath. the shadows dwell in the house of light,
their invisible hands slide alongside the invisible walls.
a whisper imprisons words and erases sounds.
the moon guards the door in silence. the silver sword cuts time
in halves, in quarters, in fractions, in slivers…
I smell your presence from the blade,
the scent of a freshly cut lemon.
and mine is the remnants of burned wood.
the last memory of the apple tree was the orchard.
a blissful blossom was choked by the cold hands of death.
it was an arctic front, an unexpected breath… .
© 3/28/2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya
my heart refused to sync with the rhythm
of my breath. the shadows dwell in the house of light,
their invisible hands slide alongside the invisible walls.
a whisper imprisons words and erases sounds.
the moon guards the door in silence. the silver sword cuts time
in halves, in quarters, in fractions, in slivers…
I smell your presence from the blade,
the scent of a freshly cut lemon.
and mine is the remnants of burned wood.
the last memory of the apple tree was the orchard.
a blissful blossom was choked by the cold hands of death.
it was an arctic front, an unexpected breath… .
© 3/28/2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya
Monday, March 26, 2012
fragments(memories)
it all started with the wind,
lost in a dark house, in the night,
rattling through the dendrites, disturbing
the shadows of forgotten memories.
some are eatable and nutritious,
my mother breaks freshly baked bread and dips it in warm milk,
it was nauseating back then,
but the memory smells like my mother’s hands.
I breathe it in and absorb it all to the last molecule.
the other memories are poisonous:
still blue, still pulsating, still quivering
like freshly beheaded snakes.
those I wouldn’t touch, I would let them die in agony
or live unknown and beheaded.
there are past warnings, rotten apples,
partially devoured by the worms of time,
partially alive, broken into fragments
like an ancient scroll.
I must reconstruct its visibility
word by word, letter by letter.
I must remember my father's voice,
warning me not to jump from the white, freshly painted fence.
but I did anyway.
when the uneven teeth of the ashy bone chewed through my skin,
I collapsed, stricken by the ugliness, rather than pain.
now, pinned down by the elements, I don’t attempt jumps,
I slide my body slowly and gently to the ground,
just to regret my decisions later… .
©3/26/2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya
lost in a dark house, in the night,
rattling through the dendrites, disturbing
the shadows of forgotten memories.
some are eatable and nutritious,
my mother breaks freshly baked bread and dips it in warm milk,
it was nauseating back then,
but the memory smells like my mother’s hands.
I breathe it in and absorb it all to the last molecule.
the other memories are poisonous:
still blue, still pulsating, still quivering
like freshly beheaded snakes.
those I wouldn’t touch, I would let them die in agony
or live unknown and beheaded.
there are past warnings, rotten apples,
partially devoured by the worms of time,
partially alive, broken into fragments
like an ancient scroll.
I must reconstruct its visibility
word by word, letter by letter.
I must remember my father's voice,
warning me not to jump from the white, freshly painted fence.
but I did anyway.
when the uneven teeth of the ashy bone chewed through my skin,
I collapsed, stricken by the ugliness, rather than pain.
now, pinned down by the elements, I don’t attempt jumps,
I slide my body slowly and gently to the ground,
just to regret my decisions later… .
©3/26/2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya
Saturday, March 24, 2012
fragments(all in one and nothing.)
I smell the rain, rolling off of her feather.
the splash of my hand on the waters
interrupted her concentration,
a mouse runs to safety, underground.
hide, little one, hide…
I may make it too…
dark
bottom
whispers
soft
delirium
over
my toes,
while
her eyes
hold
mine
above
the waters.
I’m almost there, at the shores.
she will fly away with the mouse in her claws,
…laughing,
when I will start my swim back.
©3/24/2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya
the splash of my hand on the waters
interrupted her concentration,
a mouse runs to safety, underground.
hide, little one, hide…
I may make it too…
dark
bottom
whispers
soft
delirium
over
my toes,
while
her eyes
hold
mine
above
the waters.
I’m almost there, at the shores.
she will fly away with the mouse in her claws,
…laughing,
when I will start my swim back.
©3/24/2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
fragments (I feel nothing)
when I feel nothing
and ready to die,
time stays away from me,
in the distance and observes
as stilness pours Hell
in to the bottomless minutes of my eyes.
I say “Good bye” to you.
life is a ticking time bomb,
ready to explode, unannounced,
like the heart of a red star.
but not today,
today I feel nothing.
death embraces me with blind love,
with her breath – white frost
in my every follicle.
when I merge with her unconditionally,
I feel nothing…
I start aching…
when I see her walking away.
©3/20/2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya
and ready to die,
time stays away from me,
in the distance and observes
as stilness pours Hell
in to the bottomless minutes of my eyes.
I say “Good bye” to you.
life is a ticking time bomb,
ready to explode, unannounced,
like the heart of a red star.
but not today,
today I feel nothing.
death embraces me with blind love,
with her breath – white frost
in my every follicle.
when I merge with her unconditionally,
I feel nothing…
I start aching…
when I see her walking away.
©3/20/2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya
letters(in my dream)
the skin of my dreams
bleached by the silver of the bleeding moon,
caught in the nets of a pine tree.
longing, thick and salty, slides drop by drop,
wraps around my vocal cords, when I whisper your name.
the murmur of the ocean, silences me, drowned my thoughts
in thousands of voices, in the mouthful of pebbles.
hours deepen beyond the fog of midnight
as you, my desire, resonate in my fingertips,
like a breath of spring
in the heart of a migrating bird.
©3/20/2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya
bleached by the silver of the bleeding moon,
caught in the nets of a pine tree.
longing, thick and salty, slides drop by drop,
wraps around my vocal cords, when I whisper your name.
the murmur of the ocean, silences me, drowned my thoughts
in thousands of voices, in the mouthful of pebbles.
hours deepen beyond the fog of midnight
as you, my desire, resonate in my fingertips,
like a breath of spring
in the heart of a migrating bird.
©3/20/2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya
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