Vera Dike

The curse of being a poet

To see a beauty and misery
of the World
...

The night


The ink leaked from heavy clouds
...

Everything seems so grey and fade,
my thoughs,
grey lambs on the grey sky
...

The Stars has changed.
So did I.

Under foreign sky
...

The wind carried the thistle fluff far away
The wild geese cried: 'Adieu, adieu'
Even the feathers penned their farewells
on thewater surface
...

In my soul I belong somewhere...
I don't know where I belong to.

Maybe somewhere to the distand land
...

The heart of a poet
is winged crystal bridge
marked by stomping boots.
The world in rush
...

Me...My love, I am as my country,
formed by the fire
and know the battle-scars
I've tasted kiss of Juda
...

I hate You and I love You
with the same power
Yes, You, my dear
my joy, my happines, my strengh
...

Cry, if you have to
but then - cry like a child
cries for the warmth
of mother's embrace
...

High above villages
high above fields
high above human effort lies
the ruins of an ancient temple
...

The Nightingale
sang softly to a Rose
of the place
where the day goes
...

Stand still, pilgrim
With no hesistation
The Sun bows its head
to greet the desert sand
...

He saw her in the immense
nothingness of universe
Attracted by his theresness
She came closer
...

Cashew tree

The cashew tree roots
in compound - which
...

The Solstice


In the land wich has no name,
...

Swallowers of memories
(Free trandlation from Czech language)

The sun blew from ruptured veins
...

You have no home in the starry sky
nor between the clouds, You dwell

nor in the abysmal sea
...

Placidly roams- takes what comes
bare are the bones
nothing remains hidden
...

June 2019
Milton Keynes, Fishermead
...