четвъртък, март 14, 2013
Сърцето
ще е изпълнено със радост
Или със тъга
Все тая!
Аз си имам
Цялото щастие на света.
Сега:
Джобът ми е пълен със мечти,
Пътешествия, усмивки,
Аз мога да съм Магелан!
И имaм всичко
Аз обичам!
Имам го,
Щастието -
И държа го във ръцете си.
И няма да го пусна!
Ако нещо липсва.
То ще дойде някой ден -
Утре или вдругиден,
Все тая!
Важното е, че сега съм тук
Има ме, усмихвам се,
Обичам,
Аз съм жива!
Тук
сега...
вторник, октомври 30, 2012
Take my hand
And lead me to the sun
Where he will embrace me.
I will dance
In his arms I will squirm
Like a snake.
I will fight to breathe
And at the end I'll burn
In his lava flames.
Take my hand
And lead me to the water
Where he will caress me.
I will sing to him
For his love I will fight
Because it's him who I crave.
And I will be a siren -
The last creature
A sailor shall ever see.
Take my hand
And lead me to the wind
Where he will kiss me.
He'll freeze my flesh
Deep down to my bones
So I shall become cold hearted.
I'll fly with the eagles
Hunt my preys
And die naked in the cold rain.
Take my hand
And bring me to the earth
Where he will hold me tight.
Bury me deep down in the ground
Take my every living cell
And turn me into dust.
And then the lovely sun will warm me
The wind will blow away the dirt on top of me
The water will wash away my tears and sorrow
I will rise
And will never feel the emptiness
For this life is just borrowed.
неделя, октомври 14, 2012
But I'm tired of living.
I want to breathe
But my lungs
refuse breathing.
I want to see
But my eyes just stopped seeing.
I want to love
But my heart is now gone
broken.
I want to smile
But my mouth just can't open
I want my joy
But the joy is blown away.
I want to feel
But how can I feel
When everything inside is dead?
I want to be whole
but the whole is now scattered
Into million pieces.
I need time,
Is there some time
Enough time
at all?!
петък, октомври 05, 2012
Miss Me–But Let Me Go!
And the sun has set for me
I want no rites in a gloom-filled room.
Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little–but not too long
And not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love that we once shared,
Miss me–but let me go.
For this is a journey that we all must take
And each must go alone.
It's all a part of the Master's plan,
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick of heart
Go to the friends we know
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds.
Miss Me–But Let me Go!
Edgar A. Guest
събота, юли 14, 2012
Tomorrow's promise
I will want More!
More happiness,
more emotions,
more love
and sorrow
more of Life!
Because I want to feel it
with every heartbeat
and with each cell
of my body
and my soul.
I want to drink
of life's full glass of water.
And I want it all
neither half full
nor half empty
not at all!
I want this glass full and whole!
So here's a promise to myself...
When I wake up tomorrow
I will do More!
More crazy things.
And I'll sing more,
dance more.
I'll smile and laugh
and cry and grieve
because
I want my glass
full of everything.
събота, юни 16, 2012
Too much
too much pain
too much emotions
ain't a saint
Too much work
drained out my brain
too much feelings
I feel such strain
Too much thinking
not enough gain
Too much loving
but ain't a saint
Too much of everything
too much hopes
too much of me
I'm just tired
and want to go home.
петък, юни 01, 2012
Какво правят лудите като мен
I wanted to forget you
But I couldn't.
The memories
of your smile
and eyes
I can't erase.
Your voice
keeps telling me
there's hope for us
and in hope I die.
I die to be reborn
To smile again
To look around
To search for you
Because the only thing
I want to see
I want to touch
i want to love
is you.
петък, май 18, 2012
The kiss
понеделник, април 18, 2011
задъхана,
с разрошени коси.
Със сетен дъх на зима
и с очи уморени
от взиране.
Аз чакам я,
лелея –
онази пролет,
която душата ми ще стопли.
Ще грейне слънцето,
ще стопли земята,
в душата ми
слънчев лъч ще се прокрадне.
Ще се роди пламъче малко.
Косите ще среша
Ще избърша сълзите
И с дяволитa усмивка
Ще тръгна да я търся
отново...
петък, януари 14, 2011
Big Night On The Town
it's night, you're lost, where's your
room?
you enter a bar to find yourself,
order scotch and water.
damned bar's sloppy wet, it soaks
part of one of your shirt
sleeves.
It's a clip joint-the scotch is weak.
you order a bottle of beer.
Madame Death walks up to you
wearing a dress.
she sits down, you buy her a
beer, she stinks of swamps, presses
a leg against you.
the bar tender sneers.
you've got him worried, he doesn't
know if you're a cop, a killer, a
madman or an
Idiot.
you ask for a vodka.
you pour the vodka into the top of
the beer bottle.
It's one a.m. In a dead cow world.
you ask her how much for head,
drink everything down, it tastes
like machine oil.
you leave Madame Death there,
you leave the sneering bartender
there.
you have remembered where
your room is.
the room with the full bottle of
wine on the dresser.
the room with the dance of the
roaches.
Perfection in the Star Turd
where love died
laughing.
Charles Bukowski (source http://www.poemhunter.com)
вторник, октомври 26, 2010
English is tough
We’ll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes,
But the plural of ox should be oxen, not oxes.
Then one fowl is a goose, but two are called geese,
Yet the plural of moose should never be meese,
You may find a lone mouse or a whole nest of mice,
But the plural of house is houses, not hice.
If the plural of man is always called men,
Why shouldn’t the plural of pan be called pen?
The cow in the plural may be cows or kine,
But a bow if repeated is never called bine,
And the plural of vow is vows, never vine.
If I speak of a foot and you show me your feet,
And I give you a boot would a pair be called beet?
If one is a tooth, and a whole set are teeth,
Why shouldn’t the plural of booth be called beeth?
If the singular’s this and the plural is these,
Should the plural of kiss ever be nicknamed keese?
Then one may be that and three would be those,
Yet hat in the plural would never be hose,
And the plural of cat is cats, not cose.
We speak of a brother, and also of brethren,
But though we say mother, we never say methren,
Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him,
But imagine the feminine she, shis and shim,
So English, I fancy you will all agree,
Is the funniest language you ever did seе
The Chaos
/Poem of English Pronunciation/
by Gerard Nolst Trenité
Dearest creature in creation,
Study English pronunciation.
I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.
I will keep you, Suzy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy.
Tear in eye, your dress will tear.
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.
Just compare heart, beard, and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, retain and Britain.
(Mind the latter, how it's written.)
Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as plaque and ague.
But be careful how you speak:
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak;
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.
Hear me say, devoid of trickery,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore,
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles;
Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
Solar, mica, war and far;
One, anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel;
Gertrude, German, wind and mind,
Scene, Melpomene, mankind.
Billet does not rhyme with ballet,
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
Blood and flood are not like food,
Nor is mould like should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load and broad,
Toward, to forward, to reward.
And your pronunciation's OK
When you correctly say croquet,
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.
Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
And enamour rhymes with hammer.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb,
Doll and roll and some and home.
Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
Souls but foul, haunt but aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant,
Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger,
And then singer, ginger, linger,
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.
Query does not rhyme with very,
Nor does fury sound like bury.
Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth.
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.
Though the differences seem little,
We say actual but victual.
Refer does not rhyme with deafer.
Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
Mint, pint, senate and sedate;
Dull, bull, and George ate late.
Scenic, Arabic, Pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific.
Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven.
We say hallowed, but allowed,
People, leopard, towed, but vowed.
Mark the differences, moreover,
Between mover, cover, clover;
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
Chalice, but police and lice;
Camel, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.
Petal, panel, and canal,
Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal.
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
Senator, spectator, mayor.
Tour, but our and succour, four.
Gas, alas, and Arkansas.
Sea, idea, Korea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean.
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.
Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion and battalion.
Sally with ally, yea, ye,
Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key.
Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver.
Heron, granary, canary.
Crevice and device and aerie.
Face, but preface, not efface.
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.
Large, but target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging.
Ear, but earn and wear and tear
Do not rhyme with here but ere.
Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen,
Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk,
Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.
Pronunciation -- think of Psyche!
Is a paling stout and spikey?
Won't it make you lose your wits,
Writing groats and saying grits?
It's a dark abyss or tunnel:
Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale,
Islington and Isle of Wight,
Housewife, verdict and indict.
Finally, which rhymes with enough?
Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough?
Hiccough has the sound of cup.
My advice is give it up!
четвъртък, октомври 21, 2010
If love...
You would break her wings.
(And put her in a cage)
If love was a fairy tale
You would make it sad.
(Unhappy-ending story)
If love was a painting
You'd splash it with water
(To make all colors fade away)
If love was a river
You'd drown me in it
(To keep my last breath for yourself)
събота, октомври 09, 2010
Есенно
лятото, жегата, пясъка.
С удобни и топли обувки
бодро в локвите шляпаме.
Гумени ботушки за него
и нов дъждобран.
А за мен -
нова надежда.
Дано есента донесе
много театър и радости,
смях, нови книги
и приключения приказни.
И нека има... малко слънце
да ни подготви за зимата.
да се стоплим с него за последно
преди да запалим камината.
четвъртък, август 05, 2010
The Pig by Roald Dahl
And wonderfully clever pig.
To everybody it was plain
That Piggy had a massive brain.
He worked out sums inside his head,
There was no book he hadn't read.
He knew what made an airplane fly,
He knew how engines worked and why.
He knew all this, but in the end
One question drove him round the bend:
He simply couldn't puzzle out
What LIFE was really all about.
What was the reason for his birth?
Why was he placed upon this earth?
His giant brain went round and round.
Alas, no answer could be found.
Till suddenly one wondrous night.
All in a flash he saw the light.
He jumped up like a ballet dancer
And yelled, "By gum, I've got the answer!
They want my bacon slice by slice
To sell at a tremendous price!
They want my tender juicy chops
To put in all the butcher's shops!
They want my pork to make a roast
And that's the part'll cost the most!
They want my sausages in strings!
They even want my chitterlings!
The butcher's shop! The carving knife!
That is the reason for my life!"
Such thoughts as these are not designed
To give a pig great piece of mind.
Next morning, in comes Farmer Bland,
A pail of pigswill in his hand,
And piggy with a mighty roar,
Bashes the farmer to the floor…
Now comes the rather grizzly bit
So let's not make too much of it,
Except that you must understand
That Piggy did eat Farmer Bland,
He ate him up from head to toe,
Chewing the pieces nice and slow.
It took an hour to reach the feet,
Because there was so much to eat,
And when he finished, Pig, of course,
Felt absolutely no remorse.
Slowly he scratched his brainy head
And with a little smile he said,
"I had a fairly powerful hunch
That he might have me for his lunch.
And so, because I feared the worst,
I thought I'd better eat him first."
събота, юли 03, 2010
Към себе си
когато си най-тъжен, най-злочест,
от парещите въглени на мъката
си направи сам стълба и излез
Когато от безпътица премазан си
и си зазидан в четири стени,
от всички свои пътища прерязани
нов път си направи и пак тръгни.
Светът когато мръкне пред очите ти
и притъмнява в тези две очи
сам слънце си създай и от лъчите му
с последния до него се качи.
Трънлив и сляп е на живота ребусът,
на кръст разпъва нашите души.
Загубил всичко, не загубвай себе си -
единствено така ще го решиш!
Дамян Дамянов
Едно такова никакво ми е, сигурно щото у дома сме болни двама и точно като зазидана между 4 стени се чувствам...
петък, юни 25, 2010
I Love My Job (The lost Dr. Seuss Poem)
I love my boss; he is the best.
I love his boss and all the rest.
I love my office and its location.
I hate to have to go on vacation.
I love my furniture, drab and gray,
And the paper that piles up every day.
I love my chair in my padded cell.
There's nothing else I love so well.
I love to work among my peers.
I love their leers and jeers and sneers.
I love my computer and its software;
I hug it often though it don't care.
I love each program and every file,
I try to understand once in a while.
I'm happy to be here, I am, I am;
I'm the happiest slave of my Uncle Sam.
I love this work; I love these chores.
I love the meetings with deadly bores.
I love my job-I'll say it again.
I even love these friendly men,
These men who've come to visit today
In lovely white coats to take me away.
петък, януари 29, 2010
When You Are Old
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
William Butler Yeats
сряда, декември 16, 2009
Желание
Аз искам да остана винаги на пет!
И искам никога да не порасна.
Сега мога да съм пилот на самолет,
Зоро, Спайдърмен, или гормит ужасен.
Аз искам винаги да съм на пет!
А ти да бъдеш вечно млада.
Всеки ден да мога играя с теб,
И да се борим за шоколада.
Аз искам никога да не порасна,
защото детството криле ми дава.
Но времето минава бясно,
И крилете бързичко подрязва.
Аз искам да съм си дете,
макар да зная, че е невъзможно.
Дано животът детското у мен не окраде,
Дано времето все пак за малко да поспре.
вторник, декември 08, 2009
пред Коледно
Снежко весел ще направим.
От бял картон, а не от сняг.
Че снегът не идва още и май ни е забравил.
Снежко със картонен нос,
метла от лентички нарязани.
Очи от копчета - като абанос
и усмивчица с флумастер отбелязана.
Картоненият снежко поне не се топи
И можем на топло да го пазим.
За снега бленуван малко ще потърпим
Коледното настроение в сърцата ще опазим.
Елхата и дома в червено украсихме
И сложихме най-красивите покривки
Чорапите на камината със смях окачихме
Готови сме, макар без сняг,
чакаме те, Коледо, с усмивка.
четвъртък, октомври 22, 2009
For Jane: With All The Love I Had, Which Was Not Enough
I pick up the sparkling beads
in black,
this thing that moved once
around flesh,
and I call God a liar,
I say anything that moved
like that
or knew
my name
could never die
in the common verity of dying,
and I pick
up her lovely
dress,
all her loveliness gone,
and I speak to all the gods,
Jewish gods, Christ-gods,
chips of blinking things,
idols, pills, bread,
fathoms, risks,
knowledgeable surrender,
rats in the gravy of 2 gone quite mad
without a chance,
hummingbird knowledge, hummingbird chance,
I lean upon this,
I lean on all of this
and I know:
her dress upon my arm:
but
they will not
give her back to me.
Charles Bukowski


