Сайт поезії для дітей, вірші, поздоровлення у віршах :: Kukhta Bohdan: Dandelions poetry ✻ - ВІРШ

MUTUAL The swirls of wind make the hair flow about, As though it were some seeds of a dandelion. They rip the memories out and take ‘em away. It is nearby where the shadow does sway, The shadow, which does follow my own. Step by step, behind the wall of stone, There are slipping some ghosts Of the abandoned and cut-off people. I no longer recognize them. They do not recognize me. We have a mutual Misunderstanding.

DANDELION Autumn pours us with impressions Under the warm rain. It’s golden-yellow jam That we eat with spoons And smile... Autumn changes the wallpapers, Adds lots of orange, Bright and warm, Having wrapped us in a bark blanket, It’s smiling. And whispering: Kindle the fire. Kindle the fire! Speaking That it will return very soon With black Like night ravens And icy rains. Take care of yourself, boy. Take care of yourself, girl. This all must be endured Again and again, To feel the foundation. It’s hidden in dandelions. The true taste of life Is tempered by trials, By rises

October dandelions Are yellow in their own way. Golden balls Bathe in the rays Of the sun. In the steppes on barrows There are ancient stone women. A gray-haired monk Rests on the leaves That are red. The maple pattern Is being woven into a cross amulet— It’s the one thing that he’s held. In his prayers He’s carried through his days The name of his God in praise. And what do I gain From his words so bold? What does he gain, people, From these verses told? He has his Bible, He has its lines. Take it and read it, Say your signs. My words are harsh And firm, Sharp, true, Like thorns that squirm. The wind just blows, It casts the seeds, Sowing dandelions for future deeds

DANDELIONS DREAM The white dandelions dream of snow, The yellow ones dream of sun and heat. They don’t care ‘bout slippery ice below. Distant vastness are Like wings of a stork With black spots. A moment and flying: The white are soaring into the sky, The yellow will ripen And take flight… Snow embraces The planet.

BUDDHIST TEMPLES The stars burn out again in the sky, Falling as ashes behind the clouds. We and Ye have lifted our gaze on high To see the Buddhist temples’ bounds. I’ve sown dandelions on Himalayan sand, In marigolds, as mother has ever shown. What a relief! — I am not in my land, In saffron robes I won’t be ever known. Setting cross-legged, I gaze into the abyss, “Oy Vershe Miy, Vershe” they sang in refrain. I am not punished for rhymes that are amiss, For I am from Ukraine, Parvati’s domain. At my home, Shiva dances on sight. Vishnu takes three steps each day, And old Brahma, for comic delight, On one leg, makes the hopak’s sway. But the ancient epic will not be penned, No one will recall the eternal feast. As soon as the *** crows to the end, The stars will fade, the dawn is released.