Vera Dike Poems

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
...