First a flutter in the chest
Then a thudding
Through the savannah
In the throat
On the useless tongue
Gasping for air
She turns into
Copyright © 2014 Irina Dimitric
Beautiful poem about depression!
Originally posted on ScribbleDartsfromtheHeart:
Air is charged
Try to breathe but can only gasp
cannot inhale deep enough
cannot draw air in
Want to lay down
want to run, escape
want to read
dive into someone else’s story
so do not have to face own
Tears surface but refuse to fall
accompanying lump in throat
contributing to difficulty breathing
one – two – three
one – two – three
one – two – three
a polka that needs to be taken down to a waltz
over and over again
count repeated until moment passes
and calmness returns
Energy is drained
but have survived
did not drop into bottomless pit
Great sadness closes in
yet life can go on
A little piece
the tiniest sliver
has been restored
and can go on
But the monster comes back
angry to have been kept at bay
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Originally posted on charles1958:
This is the song written Burt Bacharach and Hal David, and sung by B. J. Thomas, is the title that gave me the idea for my poems and through them to Bob Dylan’s A hard rains are a gonna fall, which I blogged last night. B.J Thomas was born in Hugo Oklahoma on August 7th 1942, but grew up in Houston Texans, he sang in the church choir, and started singing with bands while still at school, he had lots of hits, but the ones most will remember are Hooked on a feeling, Another somebody did somebody wrong song, and best known Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head, which was used as the theme song for the film Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid. Here it is with stills from the film, thanks to Ushichannel2 and You Tube :
What a pair!
Fair is fair
In the prairie
Quite a dummy
Hop hop hop
Up and down
Up and down
The prairie green
Up and down
Until he dropped
and lost his crown
Crown? What crown?
Never mind what crown
The pair up there
Lazy Daisy, crazy Maisy
Two fair fairies, very fair
Took young Bunny in their care
And they swear:
“Big Black Bear
With the longest, sharpest stare
Will stare and stare
Until he finds
The Funny Bunny crown
Right down there
Down and down and
One more stare
Then he’ll solemnly declare
There it is your precious crown
By the little lily pond
Sitting oh so smart
On a little lily pad
Funny Bunny will be glad!”
P.S., I was in a silly mood!
Copyright© 2014 Irina Dimitric
I have great pleasure in sharing with you the second review of my book. It was posted on Amazon by my friend Branka Cubrilo, a fine novelist, a month ago. It was shared on Facebook at the time but I forgot to share it on my blog. So here it is now.
By Branka Cubrilo, novelist
Sincere and Uplifting,7 Sep 2014
A.B.Cubrilo – See all my reviews
This review is from: Dreams On My Pillow (Kindle Edition)
‘Dreams on My Pillow’ by Irina Dimitric is a sincere and uplifting book of poems. Irina speaks about things that matter to her: love and forgiveness, displacement and hope, sadness and happiness, birds and flowers, even her small car which appears to have inspired her to create a new poetic form – tercetonine.
The poems in this collection portray various moods: some poems serve to uplift and entertain while others take us deeper into the recesses of hidden compartments of the human heart and soul.
Irina cares about words and takes time to select the right ones to fit the rhyme, the mood and feeling. I have thoroughly enjoyed reading this collection and would sincerely recommend it to anyone.
Thank you, Branka, for taking the time to read my book and to write a lovely review. Your encouragement is much appreciated.
“Dreams On My Pillow” is available in softcover and e-book format. And if you decide to buy it, I hope you’ll enjoy it. Many of the poems can be read to your kids or grandkids.
The book is also available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
Cheers :) Irina
(This is an excerpt from “My Dad, Volunteer in WWI”, a memoir I intend to finish soon).
“It was a sunny day, five o’clock in the afternoon on 4 October 1914.”
Dad always remembered the date and what the weather was like. His memory in his late nineties was just amazing.
“Our position was at plate 712 in the mountains of Gučevo, north of Zvornik, over the Drina River. After the attack against Serb positions, I decided to try my luck. There were many killed and wounded. I was with the four stretcher-bearers, about 50 metres behind the frontline. For me this was an opportunity for reconnaissance. I sent two of my stretcher-bearers down into the valley to the completely deserted Serbian village. They found plums in big barrels prepared for making brandy. They found plum brandy too and brought back several flasks. I gave a flask to the sergeant-major. I ate my lunch and then on purpose partially burnt my tent. I changed my underwear, put in my haversack a tin of meat, a tin of condensed milk and the most important thing – white foot wrappings. Then I went to the sergeant-major and said: ‘My tent is burnt. There must be some tents on our killed soldiers who haven’t been buried yet. I’d like to go to the valley and fetch one.” And I went there with the sergeant. The distance between our and Serbian trenches was about 400 metres, and between them there was a valley with huge beech trees. We passed four dead barefooted Austro-Hungarian soldiers. I later noticed that Serbian soldiers were wearing Austro-Hungarian boots! The sergeant stopped to pee by a tree, so I quickened my step and when I lost sight of him, I took out of my haversack one white foot wrapping, fixed it to a twig and started to climb in the direction of the Serbian trenches. I soon spotted a Serbian soldier on guard. I thought he might shoot me, but he didn’t. And in a few minutes I found myself in a Serbian trench.”
Dad was so overwhelmed to be among Serb soldiers that he burst into tears and couldn’t stop crying. “They kept asking me: ‘Did the Švaba kill your family?’ And I couldn’t even answer their questions – tears were choking me. When I calmed down, I said: ‘No, none of my family has been harmed. I’m just so happy to be here with you.’ I suppose I was also glad to be alive.”
In Dad’s eyes sparkled diamonds that almost became tears. For a moment I pictured him as he was then: so very young at twenty-one, so patriotic and brave with those white foot wrappings ready in his haversack.
“And then, what happened then?” I asked.
“I’m ready to fight on the frontline,” Dad told them. “Well, we can’t decide that, son. You must go to the headquarters,” he was told. When the Commander heard he was a third-year medical student, he said: “You are worth to us more than ten soldiers.”
And they sent him to serve in the military hospital in Niš, 180 kilometres south of Belgrade.
Bogdan’s defection from the Austro-Hungarian army took place during the Battle of Drina, the second victory of the Serbian army over the Austro-Hungarian army, and about a month after the Battle of Cer, the first victory of the Allies, which occurred after the first Austro-Hungarian invasion when Belgrade came under heavy artillery bombardment and the country was ravaged, houses burned, wells poisoned, and unspeakable atrocities committed against civilians, young and old, women and children as well. The ailing King Peter, riddled with arthritis, walking with great difficulty and with a grieving heart, made his way to the troops on the frontline and to boost their morale addressed them with these words: “Heroes, you have taken two oaths: one to me, your King, and one to your country. From the first I release you, from the second no man can release you. But if you decide to return to your homes and if we should be victorious, you shall not be made to suffer.” (p. 582 Black Lamb and Grey Falcon by Rebecca West, Canongate Classics 1993)
They all stayed and went on to prepare for a counter attack – the Battle of Cer in August, followed by the Battle of Drina in October.
March to Drina
© Copyright 2014 Irina Dimitric
It’s Spring in Australia.
Cosy bed for dreamy bug
Warm spring afternoon
Copyright 2014 Irina Dimitric
Poets, this challenge is a lot of fun. Don’t miss it!
Originally posted on SunWinks!:
I think that I shall never see
A poem as trivial as “Trees.”…
Joyce Kilmer’s 1913 poem “Trees” is an easy and favorite target for parody. I was shocked to learn that “Trees” was originally published in the prestigious Poetry magazine. (I was also shocked to learn that Joyce Kilmer is a guy.) And you know, looking at it again, it’s not the worst poem ever, especially for 1913.
Writing parody can be lots of fun, and it can improve your technique and even give you a new appreciation for the poem you are lampooning.
This week, I wrote a parody of James Whitcomb Riley’s “When the Frost Is On the Punkin,” a poem I grew up with. It (the original) is a celebration of crisp autumn mornings on the farm. I heard some baseball commentator say, “The pitcher’s on the rubber, and the batter’s…
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