Poetry

Yet another

There were many and were few,
And each of them was somewhat new,
Yet each was but another mew,
So soon away I always flew.

Wisdom

Who is the one to do things right,
Who has the perfect future’s sight,
And who has will to gain these?
Those ones who have – stand by now, please.

Winter time

It was the time of retribution,
Of thoughts all dying in confusion,
It was one coldest winter day,
When sun had moved off the way.

Way out

It is so difficult to say
If one can follow own way,
If he can face what lies ahead,
If he will live – or live as dead.

Success

What does one strife for if not success?
Constantly pressured, each day in stress?
What do I care? Listen or not –
Poem’s successful, still being hot.

Speak with me

Speak with me when it is time –
I will tell you what is prime,
I will tell you what is right,
I shall purify your sight.

Song of a monk

I am just a silent monk
And have no a silver tongue,
Though I’ll try to sing a song
Of how deeply I have sunk.

Slow down

Slow down, friend, you’ve worked fine
For endless months staying till nine,
And worked like a caged pet,
Whose health became his crazy bet.

Side effect

I’ve come to this for now at last –
All past no more than a dust
With dead ideals full of rust
Now blown away with fresh wind’s gust.

Rave of the naive

What of me? I’m good, you see,
I am the one, who just broke free,
I am that one, who wants to change
Imperfect world within my range.