[Procyona]

I usually don't like to publish my writings, but this poem I really like to share
What do you think?

Spring light

In the sunny spot of my desk
there was a beautiful flower
just not long ago.
Now the spring light shines
on an empty, dusty pot.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring
but this is what the moment flows to.
Even though with backs to follow,
even though I pore my eyes into them,
now I only have my own too feet
to walk, to run, to fall and learn
gain strength to carry myself
let the world fall from the shoulders.

As there is will, there is a way.
Through pain, one can grow.

When the pot is cleaned
it is not empty, but ready to receive
to hold only things worthy.
Who knew it would shine this brightly
just on its own
in a new spring light   

[Haveunique]

Milla, I think you should write more and publish them   

[Martin]

Nice Milla I like it. I´m also writing poems from time to time, but they are all in Czech.
I would like to ask you do you think there is a specific mood for writing a poems for you? I realized that for me it was often gloomy mood and just for a few shot ones it was something short and fun. What about you?   

[Haveunique]

Can you translate yours, Martin? Thank you!   

[Procyona]

I would also like to see your poems too, Martin ;)

I usually write something, anything, when I have an urge to say what is on my mind. I would not say it was a certain mood, but rather that I have something I want to state. When they turn into poems, however, the words have an emotional base ranging from anxiety to joy.

Sometimes my writing is based on negative feelings I want to turn into a positive drive, so it's also about handling those emotions. For some reasons these are the ones that usually end up as poems :D

What is your motivation to write poems?

[Martin]

Hmm I will see what I can do. I can translate something but I think it wouldn't be a poem anymore. Maybe more easier would be to create a new one. I think that I need some emotions or good ideas. Last time it was bet and I let my friend choose a topic it was kind of fun. But I have to say that main topic of my poems is quite obvious...as it is said there is a always woman...   

[Fanda]

Walking throw the forest, no voices around

You can feel your body and your heart sound.

Peacefull nature helps to empty head

When you entrance you never want go back.

Fanda   

[Haveunique]

Fanda, if this is for the today's task, please move it into the closed branch as agreed! Thank you.   

[Procyona]

One more poem I have written reacently

Story - then

"Every man has a voice
And in it, he has a story."
So speaks the man with dried eyes,
from behind the fireplace,
his voice clinging to its walls.
In wrinkles deep enough for light to cave in
time takes heed, resonates.

His story is more than a voice
the voice more than mere words.
It echoes, casts, reforms
scenes of lands lost, of lands fallen
of hopes shattered and won.
Of dusty streets walked too long
to know the blessing of anything beyond.
It's of bright cries, vows and pleas
and of beds embracing the sleepwalkers.

Stories - they are not just words nor voice,
for stories are the eyes that see,
the pen that draws lines on cheap paper bought just yesterday
only to be torn to pieces and trown away in an instant.
Stories are the readers, the listeners
seeking for meaning, hoping to meet their own gaze between
the lines written by someone they have never met.
Stories are the time of familiarity,
found next morning in the corner of the table's coffeestains
read between the receipt and two day old tabloid.

And yet - these stories like the man's
are not in the readers nor listeners
nor in time woven among them.
For the most, the best stories
are in what is said,
when nothing is said at all.
With a glow of being born
are the man's eyes alive.   

[Валентина Слободянюк]

Thank you for sharing it, Milla! its quite sad, deep and complicate one.   

[Haveunique]

Thank you for sharing, Milla!   

[Procyona]

You are welcome!