Daria Lebedeva

Daria Lebedeva Poems

Daria Lebedeva Biography

Daria Lebedeva 1983 born in Ukraine, studied in Poland, currently based in Sweden is PhD in philosophy taught this subject on both academic and volunteer levels. As an emerging poetess in her poetry spontaneously called as an empathetic storytelling -under pen name Hawwa Arche-she is trying to indulge into the imaginary personality of a heroine and to understand the reasons of the unique combination of character, made decisions and chosen life paths.)

The Best Poem Of Daria Lebedeva

January Orhappiness That Lasted Some Endless Minutes

January
Orhappiness that lasted some endless minutes

Everything begins with punctuality.
One sees how January is the year's first fragility,
the second comes later in the summer:
all instincts and hopes are coined in one drama.

"In the twinkling of one's eye, you can be good-for-nothing, "
mother's motto re-echoes and breathes in the rhythm of her breathing.
"Never married and not an old maid" -elder sister
matches together a paradoxical compatibility for the listener.

And yet she became almost an old lady; to say louder
the lady who hides her age under powder,
walking along in the calm afternoon hour,
with a loyal dog dressed in a coat or gown.

It is much easier to take care of a dog than a kid
even if it is impossible to endure, to get rid
of the barking. Her maternity of a tender sense
blows the snowflakes out of the puppy's nose,

scanning a passing mother with her kids
with a more than jealous look, she would never admit
to speak in a regretful tone about her life's setting sun,
but one moment started to disturb her in a run.

A loneliness in its peak: an empty room before New Year.
Her day of birth with no postcards "to dear".
In her late 60's the memoir as a light began to gleam
no matched candidate for fun, not for esteem.

After lectures, punctually at 5 p.m. at the bus stop
in the pluvious days or covered with sunbeams and drops,
she tried her best in charming looks and vulgar jokes.
In coldness, her legs were blue under nylon socks.

But he was adamant in ignorance, no lasso to hurl up.
He said: "see you" as swiftly as "hurry up", "hurry up."
He was fed up of eating an extra piece of cake (unbaked…)
One dark night, he resisted seeing her naked.

But why is his face only invoked? She was sure
that with him in wedlock she would cure
her wounded half-light and half-dark heart
And she would deliberately overthrow the matriarch.

Her eldest sister's case recalled in her mind
and her long pursuits for a husband not of any kind.
And today her sister is proud of his younger age
as a naïve bird easily caught in a cage.

Some years have passed but still now in front of her:
her sister's arrogant look still mocks her,
and a never forgotten taste of regret
"I and the rest of the world lack the courage to bet."

On frozen January days, the body aches
and millions of variations of one movement
can veil over her, to rise from the ashes
from imprinted calls for improvement.

"Where to find this purity and whiteness of snow? "
At first, she began to clean quickly and slow,
later she preferred neglecting, the unwashed plates
made her reluctant to enter the kitchen's gate.

And finally, the middle way was patience restoring
not to show off, not for self-advertising and worrying.
Years have passed. She was too tired of immoral dishabille
one part of the body's covered, the rest-acts of detinue.

Because of the other boyfriends and husband's attention
she was still keen as mustard fearing her detention,
Dilapidation and her skin desiccation. It is life's determination:
In a house for the elderly she found her time and dedication,

having a rest in a small white room:
no one is spying in a closest zoom.
"Where is the meaning of life, all actions to gain?
to discipline, to push to one's aim? "

She questioned herself in the sleepless nights:
a lubrication for her tired mind as a weaponless knight.
It is good for no protection, her hope was not a luck,
and once being lucid, now in lull is stuck.

She dreams of the careless flying of a ladybird:
all phobias thrown overboard.
She would indulge in the most
perfect moment in life (in routine not lost) .

The light bouncing mood,
the unlimited joy (reason left not understood) ,
the acme of egoistic self-enjoyment
and one moment left single in unemployment,

unrealized, untasted, not squeezed till the last sip,
so desirable to the peak of fever or a nervous tick.
Only one man's refusal is not refunded for all the gold
in the world, for all promises secretly whispered or told.


The caprice of a naughty girl is an attractive doll
sold in the window shop some seconds ago. In scroll
she was holding all the family's savings ready to pay
just to touch his delicate wrist (nothing more to say) .

The rest of life rushed in a flash of light
of the lady too proud to confess her amour and delight
left negative, with particle "no" forever. No tears,
neither her high-class privileges nor juvenile years

made her forget the devastating crash, the flown away kite.
In this high fragility she agreed to be touched despite
her inner-self's rebel and sound reminders of the uncovered
wish...The meaning of life was not discovered.

One day she was fascinated by an unusual view
in the usual banal circumstances: bus stop and few
potential passengers. And the third unexpected dimension
a little schoolgirl thin and plastic (her parent's eyes recreation) .

She began to perform gymnastics, moving her body essentially.
She did a grand circle; she did a handstand. Amazingly!
The little girl did exercises there (not in a gym)and acted as her own boss.
These scenes made her stay unmoved, impressed, but bogging in her own loss.

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