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Poetry

Poems, excerpts, and photographs from my books:
A RAY OF SIGH: The Eternal Circle Where You and I Reside (published in 2022)

and

FRACTURED PERCEPTIONS (upcoming).

Shall

You are a ripple 

In the vastness of my ocean, 

A notion of rise and fall, 

Hide and seek, 

You speak to me 

Of hyacinths, bluebells and daffodils, 

My dear, my love, my will! 

Under your branches silence lies still

Your birds carry me 

Flower petals and sunshine rays and melodies, 

I lie still, do I dare to dream? 

I am a ripple in the vastness of an ocean,

A notion of rise And fall, 

Hide and seek, 

Die and live, 

I lie still, 

Shall I dare and dream?

A small wave crashing on a sandy beach, caught from above in black and white. The photograph is titled: DRESS ME UP IN WATER WAVES, and it is an original photograph by artist Meri Utkovska.

DRESS ME UP IN WATER WAVES, p. 72 in

A RAY OF SIGH: The Eternal Circle Where You and I Reside

Lost in time
Lavender
Notebook

I loved a dreamer this morning,

His dark hair, and the darkness of his brows,

His dark eyes, and the darkness of his visage,

Though pale, as pale as the palest spring,

I loved that dreamer on this, the haziest of mornings!

 

I loved a dreamer this morning,

His loneliness, and his longings,

His tape player recordings,

Though short they were, as short as the shortest spring,

I loved that dreamer on this, the haziest of mornings!

 

I loved a dreamer this morning,

His velvet pants, and the velvet on his jacket,

The pastel on his hands tucked in his pockets,

Though crestfallen, and melancholy,

I loved that dreamer on this, the haziest of mornings!

Girl with black hair bowes her head down, with her left hand in the focus of the image. Titled "WHISPERS OF A DREAM", by artst Meri Utkovska.

WHISPERS OF A DREAM, p. 72 in

A RAY OF SIGH: The Eternal Circle Where You and I Reside

MY NOTEBOOK SMELLS OF LAVENDER

My notebook smells of lavender,

here, spring still is present in the cherry blossoms and the dandelions,

serenaded by bees and butterflies,

sad winds, and skies of cloud.

My notebook smells of lavender.

It does not care about my silence and solitude,

here, the afternoon fills my room with birdsongs and longing,

longing, longing.

My notebook smells of lavender.

Like a kid with stone-filled pockets, I feel I have the universe in mine;

who are you, my love?

What lies under the form of your smile?

Is it alone, as alone is mine?

My notebook smells of lavender.

It hasn't been touched in three months, but it still greets me with love;

where are you, my love?

My dreams are always dark, but I do not stop to dream them.

My notebook smells of lavender.

It smells of tears and love, as well,

it smells of the sea, though the sea is far away -  

as are you, visitor of my depths.

My notebook smells of lavender.

You walk in and out of it,

a song, a kiss on the mouth,

a wave, a touch on the neck,

a vibration in the heart.

My notebook smells of lavender.

Here, spring gently goes away - 

as does the youth of my body, 

but I remain,

and I love you,

I love you there, I love you everywhere,

visitor of my depths.

from FRACTURED PERCEPTIONS

Dreamer
midsummer
Vertical

In the vertical dimension

Where I exist as if a guitar string,

My body is covered in silence –

Ancient, ever-present,

And in its purest form!

 

Darling, invade my kingdom!

The glassy floor I’m walking on

Reflects your face at break of dawn!

Darling, invade my kingdom, and its walls!

In the vertical dimension

Where I exist as if a guitar string,

Your fingertips make my Soul sing –

Songs of Innocence, Songs of Experience,

And you haven’t even touched my earthly body yet!

 

Darling, destroy my kingdom!

It is your Darkness I am sailing towards,

Though the Water know where your Sun has shone!

Darling, destroy my kingdom, and all its walls!

Monochromatic side self-portrait of author of poetry book "A Ray of Sigh", with a cigarette between her lips.

CAUGHT MYSELF HUMMING A TUNE, p. 78 in

A RAY OF SIGH: The Eternal Circle Where You and I Reside

Ship
Butterflies of smoke

What can I tell You
         that has not been told before?
Shall I tell You of the Eye that sleeps a dreamless sleep, deep within the Center of Time?

Shall I tell You of the Dreamer walking past the Now,

or the Singer, singing notes of no Sound?

What can I tell You,

         when words are but form that we pass by?
Shall I tell You of The Spirits of Water,
And The Gods that rule Her Body?

Shall I tell You of Children,

Forgotten

Through Space, and Time,

That are I, 

That are You as well,

In the Eternal Circle where we reside?

What can I tell you

that has not been told before?

What Song can I sing You,

that has not been sung before?

Shall I sing You The Song of the Swallow,

Shape-shifting

Up above, and Down below?

Shall I sing You The Song of The Unknown,

Resting

within the Body, and the Body

resting within the Soul?

Plant leaf errect in front of a white wall, with diagonal patterns of light and shadow falling on its surface. Titled "SECRET GARDEN" by artist Meri Utkovska.

SECRET GARDEN, p. 16 in A RAY OF SIGH: The Eternal Circle Where You and I Reside

BETWEEN THE SHIP AND THE WATER, I AM FOUND

Between the ship and the water,

the wind and curtain, swaying,

I am found.

Bound?

To what?

Whom am I raining my sighs upon?

Barren is the highland

but, oh, so fruitful are the elements,

one with the other making me breathe

with no intent.

I am found in a space where no promises are made,

and the only known prayer is millions of light years away -

a wave, a wave!

A wave rises from my mouth

all ready to drown the silence away -

is it gone now?

is it here to stay?

Between the silence and the sound,

the eye and the lid, closing,

I am found.

My soul in not bound

nor am I

nor is the rain reflecting in the tides.

Barren are the conversations

but my mind is not,

baptizing itself in questions

that you find unanswerable.

Are you frightened?

Fear not my strange accord,

it is merely a present -

a Moon washing her hair in the Sun's mirrored aloneness.

Windowless, this place of quietness

and grandiose music is my home,

and a train,

leaving each station in a foggy, warm embrace -

embrace, embrace!

How long has it been?

We embrace no longer the way we did,

nor will we -

and it makes me weep, 

weep, weep.

And now they'll leave this stage,

judging, yelping,

drowning in the noise

they themselves are making,

and I'll love them still,

secretly directing my wish

to the making and breaking -

breaking apart

of atoms

of atoms

of atoms

of butterflies 

of smoke.

Portrait of author Meri Utkovska with black hair and plum lips in landscape mode. Captured in black and white, and edited like a collage.

from FRACTURED PERCEPTIONS

Dusk
Spin

FOREVER SPINNING, NEVER RETURNING

Beyond this place of sleep

there is a clearing,

there is a door without a key,

there is no conflict,

and no wishful thinking.

Some people leave

forever sleeping,

and some people cross over

with no way of going back to what they knew before.

Come now, my love,

take my hand,

lay me down beneath the pines,

and gaze upon the stars not with your eyes

but with mine -

my eyes,

your eyes,

the eyes of the burning twilight.

Beyond this place of fear

I know of a clearing,

where the walls we have built do not exist,

do not ever come to be,

where there is music,

and we dance, you and I,

into the unknowing,

into an ocean of love,

unasked for, unuttered, unbound.

Rain down on me,

rain down my love,

the flowers will bloom and the birds will sing,

and we'll be wide awake,

you and me,

forever spinning,

never returning.

Author Meri Utkovska dressed in a black blouse and black sunglasses, posing in front of a white wall, looking to the left.

from FRACTURED PERCEPTIONS

Hour
Tamer of storm

HOURGLASS

My fears are kept at bay -

do they not know

that water changes shape?

I was a drop in the ocean,

now I am the ocean itself -

tearing off my skin like a serpent

I become

I become

I become

myself.

An orchid fallen from her stem

dressed in poetry,

and in the white of her garments -

I am a traveler,

I am a seeker,

I am the blue hour in the hourglass.

No one knows

the bottomless pit of the universe,

no one makes peace with it,

no one understands -

when the sand loses

its last grain,

who turns the hourglass?

My heart is a feather

and the feather has been lost,

it plucked itself from its home

and went dancing

with the storm.

But I -

I am a gatherer,

I am the maker of storm,

I am the tamer of storm,

I am the cloud barer,

and the goddess of rainfall -

my love,

will you play my favourite song?

My love,

have you seen such power

before?

The waters are shifting,

ah, 

the waters are changing -

the waters are taking a sip

of their true form -

my love plays my favourite song,

and I am dancing

with the storm.

OF DREAMS YOU DREAM OF
ON SWEET-FRAGRANCED DAWNS

I stand guard on the doorstep

between my dreams and my reality.

I am a bird moving with the dusk-wind,

wishing of the warmth

the soil brings

in its crimson springs.

I look at the sky,

the day is fading

with a goodbye in its eyes,

grandiosely surrendering

to the coming night.

I stand guard on the doorstep

between my dreams and my reality.

I am a wave breaking with the fickleness of the seasons,

wishing of a shore

with white sands and moonflowers opening in repose.

I look at my hands,

the fingers dancing

with the sway of the trees,

grandiosely robbed of

the heaviness in their memories.

I stand guard on the doorstep

between my dreams and my reality.

I am the light falling on your closed eyelids,

a rebel wishing of a quiet,

peach-stained morning.

 

I stand guard on the doorstep

between my dreams and my reality.

I am the dream you dream of on sweet-fragranced dawns,

then leaves you suddenly,

with a loss you never knew nothing of.

 

I stand guard on the doorstep

between my dreams and my reality.

I am the air you long for on the first day of spring,

when the heart opens like a snowdrop in the hills and the valleys.

 

And, you, once again,

remember,

how love is supposed to feel.

 

I stand guard on the doorstep

between my dreams and my reality.

I am an unspoken feeling,

snow falling in the middle of a desert's heat,

 

a dream you dream of

but never let anyone know,

sun rising on a world unknown,

a silent shadow,

 

a wave,

breaking

on a sweet-fragranced dawn.  

THE BIRDS WILL RETURN

The hands open like letters

filled with declarations of love.

 

A little tremble,

A little pain,

And a myriad of appearances.

 

An interlude of softness and

Closing of the eyes is taking place.

 

I dissipate into the space

Of the space 

Of the space of sweet awareness,

 

And out of the infinitude

Where all is lost and all is true,

 

I hear a voice –

Mine,

And belonging to every one of your multitudes.

 

You’re faraway, wherever you are,

Dressed in your rainy eyes and chance remarks,

 

And I –

I am somewhere

No one can find.

 

My dreams like birds

With the wish of warmer tides, flee from me.

 

They spread their wings

and fall under the sway 

of foolish romance.

 

Do you fail to notice

How gravity pulls us to her face,

 

Subtly,

Yet in a matter of urgency?

 

Beyond the drifting

of your thoughts,

do you ever find the expression of freedom?

 

Now the remains of what was once hope,

Is only a sound in the hands of an unsung wind.

 

The birds will return.

 

They’ll thread the limits of my longings,

And come back to me –

With songs of love, lovers, and lonely eyes.

 

One day, perhaps, they’ll tell of you,

And every corner of your sweet multitudes.

 

The birds,

The birds,

The birds,

Will return.

Dreams You
Birds
Chain
Anchor 1
Anchor 2

A CHAIN REACTION

It’s fleeting

 

              this being something matter-made

              in the cold gut of eternal darkness.

See, the clouds no longer carry a burden,

grey, troublesome, solemn -

 

                 they carry nothing.


 

When I look at you

               and your face fails to hide

               your immaculate humanity,

somewhere, I’m sure, it dawns.

Concentric circles appear at the point of

transference - 

                   water and skin.


 

Now, as part of the now

and as the wholeness of time’s fluidity.


 

Isn’t it strange?

 

              How in the space of attempting to understand

              our frailty, we become a no-thing,

 

that needs no understanding.

See, memory is but a story -

 

a chain explosion of voices, smells, feelings,

                  burnt pieces of bread,

 

                  and spilled coffee.


 

When I look into the palms of grief,

 

             and the seasons of the Earth

             and the depths of the cosmos 

 

amalgamate, somewhere, I’m sure, 

existence falls out of existing.

 

Broken up bird song appears at the point of

a fading day - 

               sound and air.


 

Now, as a part of me, 

and as the wholeness of you -

 


you                     you                     you


 

as a part of me
and as the wholeness of all there is -

 

fleeting.

ВЕРИЖНА ЕКСПЛОЗИЈА

Минливо е

               ова бидување нешто од материја исткаено

               во студената утроба на вечниот мрак.

 

Погледни, облаците веќе товар не носат,

сиви, мачни, свечени -

 

                  ништо не носат.


 

Кога те гледам

 

                и лицето не успева да ти ја сокрие

                беспрекорната човечност,

некаде, сигурна сум, се разденува.

Концентрични кругови се појавуваат во точката

на пренесување - 

                    вода и кожа.



 

Сега, како дел од сегашноста

и како целосноста на растеченоста на времето.


 

Нели е чудно?

 

Како во просторот на обидот за разбирање

на нашата кревкост, стануваме некое ништо,

 

кое потреба за разбирање нема.

Погледни, сеќавањето е само приказна -

 

верижна експлозија од гласови, мириси, чувства,

                    загорени парчиња леб,

                    и истурено кафе.


 

Кога гледам во дланките на тагата,

 

                 и годишни времиња на Земјата

                 и длабочините на космосот

 

се соединуваат во едно единствено тело, 

некаде, сигурна сум, постоењето престанува да постои.

 

Во точката на згаснатиот ден се појавува

испрекинатата песна на птиците.


 

Сега, како дел од мене,

и како целосноста твоја -


 

ти                     ти                   ти


 

како дел од мене и како целосноста

на сѐ што е -


 

минлив.

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