Hide and seek

Hello everyone-who-reads-this,

Since today is poetry day, I thought it was an amazing opportunity for me to publish a poem I have written a few months ago. I believe the best poetry is one which is stored for a while. Like a good wine. 😊

I hope you enjoyed some wonderful poetry today. Cheers!

Mary Matshine



Photo by Rodolfo Marques on Unsplash.


Under the mind’s dome, a spark tickles.
Heavy heaviness blunts the brunt
under the chest. Dark.
Playing hide and seek
the poem and me.

Sleeping doesn’t help, much less reality,
the middle insults with perfidious vicinity.
Dreamknitter asleep.
Playing hide and seek
the poem and me.

Crumpled thoughts,
the spark flickers then changes its mind.
Playing hide and seek
the poem and me.

Sometimes in the bottom of the night I find a word —
a particle of spark. It leaves a trail behind.
A hunter on the unspoken; on a hidden thing
I run, rush, dash, writhe;
eyelids in pain from keeping them closed;
hands cold from motionless joints.
No turnover.
We are just playing,
The poem and me.

Fiftieth Birthday

Finally, another poem. It took me awhile to gather the strength to post it. I wrote it in December.


Dad and me, 1992.

You would have been fifty today.
We would go out to lunch perhaps;
My mom would be there
and grandma would leave the house, for sure,
and your friends, who would remember you then
because you sold them cars cheaply, gifted them,
lent them money, and forgave…
It would be a nice celebration; I would have made you
a cake with fifty candles.
I would have cried out of happiness and pride
as you try to blow them all out in a single breath.
Those tears would have been colder, gentler and brighter
than those I cry today.

No, this is not a dream
it is your countenance
looking at me from the mirror;
this is a reality of a thousand chimes
that rattle from a ray of light;
from there your outline reaches out
and reminds
that you are my part.

I would gift you a video game.
And we would play for hours,
like when I was little.
I watched you play, and even today
it reminds me of you.

Surely you would joke around; on purpose and by accident,
like that time we went to a party
and you got us out of the car just to show us,
all happy, the place where the “prain tasses”.
We laughed for days.
I never understood why kids didn’t like dad’s jokes,
because I always loved yours.

No, this is not a dream
it is your countenance
looking at me from the mirror;
this is a reality of a thousand chimes
that rattle from a ray of light;
from there your outline reaches out
and reminds
that you are my part.

Sometimes I think about parallel worlds,
and how in one of those you must celebrate just like this.
So, because of that picture, in which my double is hugging you,
I wish you a happy birthday, dad.



Could you fall in love with someone’s mind?


For example, now, they talk about poetry,

and they are so serious and there’s fire within their words.

Or — you are watching the stars, it’s a quiet night, he is right by your shoulder,

Almost touching.

Nano-particles barely pass through, and it’s a bit awkward,

time is moving slowly now.

And you can feel yourself getting older,

But then he speaks about time;

about waves, about particles, and how light consists of both.

And he looks up, shows you the stars,

but doesn’t compare them to your eyes,

Rather, he says: „Did you know that half of those are probably dead?“

But that doesn’t make you sad,

you start to wonder why, and how nothing is as it seems.

There’s deeper parts within, microscopic bits and pieces (so weird!),

enormous Dwarfs, holes that are maybe holes (apparently not)

And dark matter —

It has no colour, but it’s called like that because no one really get’s it (that’s sad!).

And you realize now:

This world is full of mysteries, science is amazing in many ways,

if you know who to ask, where to look something up,

Don’t get confused on the way.

There’s misinformation, not to cause trepidation, I just want to say „Look out!“,

Think, and if something seems weird — ask, don’t fret.

You’ll find someone who ponders about.

But if they say it’s only how they explain

and it can’t be any different — Hold on!

Know very well, that’s narrow — there’s no absolute!

Science is evolving, changing constantly, even Stephen Hawking

changed his mind.

And that is a sign of a true scientist — being wrong is alright!

The important thing there — is to remove the mistake, so

if it comes from you then get rid of it, too,

there is no shame in that!


But we wandered off topic, my question is forgotten,

So let me remind you:

When will you fall in love with someone’s mind?



The Glass Desert by Noah Bradley.

Here is another poem from Oblivion Corpus.


You walk about your desert
Always trying hard to avert
Afraid to stay in one place
To disrupt your wicked dance.

Refusing to completely cease
You do traverse the sill
However you leave behind
All your hopes and true mind.

The suffering is deep within
You’re not letting anyone in
To do what you long for and miss
And then say you do not wish

To let yourself off your leash.



Here is a poem featured in CalendArt by the Balkan Writers Project. They also organized the Belgrade Poetography Exhibition last year, which I’ve already mentioned here. And, as last year, the promotion was fun and creative, a great experience!

Rustles — feverish, sore
Whistling — chronically loud
Eyes closed,  September strides
overtaking what came before.

Weeps — rainy sweat
Whines — stormy breath
Embraced by nature rushes forth.
Who knows where it wants to go.

In a raincoat, looking at the sky,
I’m wondering: Will it arrive?


Birth of January

January Sunrise in Austin Texas 6

Rejoice now,
January is being born.
For a few moments
in between, there is no Time.
The night has almost passed.
Vermillion sunrise over the horizon.
People are awake, well, most of them.
Some are just taking a break.
You can’t admire the colors from here.
There’s only beauty within
and that can be hard to see.
Snow shimmers as Sun grins.
Not meant to abhor, but also
it isn’t a lovely sight
when January is being born.
And it took seven hours,
give or take,
happened more than once,
but it will never happen again
the way it did last time…
So goes for everything
in this world of ours.