I took a train

After becoming ten, I started to travel by myself
to my grandparents; to a different town, by an afternoon train.

It was usually taking more than four hours to get there;
The train was moving slow, making a lot of stops.

I was eating sandwich with a few apples
while looking at the changing images behind the window.

Wheels were repeating their mantra again-and-again
“Thaa-dumm, thaa-dumm, thaa-dumm.”

an Old Car was squeaking, shrieking, whistling;
complaining about its monotonic lonely life.

“Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz”, “Wheeeeeeeeeeee”, “Psh-tss, Psh-tss.”
“Thaa-dumm, thaa-dumm, thaa-dumm.”

I was singing a song, and looking at sky.
It was changing its attire to an elegant Egyptian Blue.

“I am traveling to may grandma
to an ancient dusty town.

How do I know? How do I know?

She’ll put a kettle on a stove
to make some tea with a piece of lemon.

How do I know? How do I know?

She’ll open a jar with a white cherry marmalade
all for me, all for me!

I know, I know… ”

The conductor is announcing the last stop;
I’m already up, waiting by the door.

“Ding dong”

Stop!

memento #15

That day you’ve entered my solitude
with your predisposition to transgress
I was trying to complete a jigsaw puzzle
of the “The Bridal Pair With the Eiffel Tower”
between some scattered urges to repent.

You asked me for a glass of wine
and to be romantic as you remembered me.

I told you to get the butter…

(afterwards I was with you)

on top of that unfinished puzzle
on top of that dusty floor
on top of those broken memories,

between some scattered urges
to repent.

Lullaby #5

to my newborn son

Some, —
can’t sleep, because they’re afraid
to close their eyes
and fall
into the bottomless hole:
where their suppressed memories, —
night moths,
are fatally attracted to an artificial light;
burning their wings, —
blinding their sights,
falling,
falling,
can’t reach the bottom.

While crickets chirp,
and fireflies fly.

Yet,
you, son, go to sleep.
Hushaby, mama and papa are watching you now.

the art of war

I was watching my son playing
with his plastic soldiers
the other morning.

I was stuffing my smoking pipe
with some smoking herbal mix
and drinking my tea.

There was a bloody fight,–
with many casualties.

and tea smelled delicious,
so did my pipe.

and floor was covered with
many wounded, dead and dying soldiers.

Yet, after his war was over,–
all the dead soldiers we brought back to life
and all the wounded were healed.
unlike in my war.