Miroslava Odalovic Poems

teachers teach
talkers talk
doers do
...

you died when I was born
...

you died when I was born
...

I'm not a rose she said

no some such flower
...

whispering the story of your boots
torn and worn that walked too many sights
with feet splintered and soles that licked
sagacious years now ablaze in
...

it is like this
it feels like this
shouting the heart out
finding the ground
...

busy dizzy write writing
multistyle styling

pick up your parchement
...

the crucial object in all reflection
its majesty the table in multitude viewpoints
...idealistic- the table is but a projection of my mind
skeptic - the table is uncertain unlike me
...

marking the dead ends of time
who stood upon the tomb to brainstorm the clouds
swelling in pain and...
there took the bottoms
...