Vera Dike

The curse of being a poet

To see a beauty and misery
of the World
...

The night


The ink leaked from heavy clouds
...

Everything seems so grey and fade,
my thoughs,
grey lambs on the grey sky
...

The Stars has changed.
So did I.

Under foreign sky
...

The wind carried the thistle fluff far away
The wild geese cried: 'Adieu, adieu'
Even the feathers penned their farewells
on thewater surface
...

The heart of a poet
is winged crystal bridge
marked by stomping boots.
The world in rush
...

Me...My love, I am as my country,
formed by the fire
and know the battle-scars
I've tasted kiss of Juda
...

In my soul I belong somewhere...
I don't know where I belong to.

Maybe somewhere to the distand land
...

Cry, if you have to
but then - cry like a child
cries for the warmth
of mother's embrace
...

High above villages
high above fields
high above human effort lies
the ruins of an ancient temple
...

Cashew tree

The cashew tree roots
in compound - which
...

The Solstice


In the land wich has no name,
...

Stand still, pilgrim
With no hesistation
The Sun bows its head
to greet the desert sand
...

The Nightingale
sang softly to a Rose
of the place
where the day goes
...

Placidly roams- takes what comes
bare are the bones
nothing remains hidden
...

June 2019
Milton Keynes, Fishermead
...

The aroma of chamomile tea
reminds me of my mothers hands
The touch that heal the cough of cold
and the heartaches of human existence
...

The curtain falls

We are waiting
Straightened to lines
...

The stars became shy
The echoes of dreams
and happy memories
clinging on a rusty nail
...

It's the vast darkness that lies ahead
and scorched - earth

The breath of dead behind the winds
...