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Best Poems Written by Bekim Tocani

Below are the all-time best Bekim Tocani poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Bekim Tocani Poem

Tomorrow

Tomorrow

 
If tomorrow I’ll be late for a coffee to "The Greek"
Do not wait
Above Olympus of pain I make portrait of Mother
In the loneliness I knit nostalgic mosaic of Father's
To the Children we build together the statue of longing
Let we kiss a lot Grandmother but not let us kill the exile

 
If after tomorrow I will be absent for cappuccino to "The Italian"
Wait me a bit
To save desperation about homeland
I will ride crazy within Dante’s circles
While daughter of Tyro’s King wound words from haven
Kills me every day and Kosovo in daylight

 
If today again I’ll not come to “The new club”
Don’t think that I don’t want
But there are gossips, rumors and fog
And I pray for everyone, even for those who only speak Albanian
Wait me to the field of the church where our childhood suffering
To make toast of tears; why we haven’t had the beautiful youth age

Details | Bekim Tocani Poem

Metaphor of Fraud

Metaphor of fraud

 

In the road of loneliness I remake my morning prayers
Yellowed silence buries last memories

 
Autumn and curtain above my book are broken
Yearly rain writes an anonymous journal

 
There are no words between metaphors of tears
I bite darkness, fonts and white letter

 
Due to the rust of time the promise digests
In the corners of ignorance a broken violin hushes

 
Char lips I begin the ballad of fraud
A frozen key cannot reopen any door anymore

 
The same you walk and smash, the same you wake up, 
the same you raise and fall,
Lie and cry or be quiet, but kiss the mornings in the heart

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The News: Lack of Love

The News: Lack of Love

We couldn’t read the news, nor decode a word
Nor the cries and prayers among the relics of hearts
I didn’t understand why freedom couldn’t taste Albanian
I couldn’t believe that we started hurting animals

And I committed suicide because I believed, wanted to breath
Me, or…repeatedly my shadow, or someone else
Those, I gave a hand and received poison and bullets; rusty words and iron
We were killing; bloody hands remained above the hell of love

Letters and verses torture unstoppable dormant conscience
The kind of people who soaked homeland, faith and soul of forefathers
Bloody infant of tears that don’t dry squirms yet today
And we remain orphans of love on the roads of the world

I don’t want to believe in animalistic nation that suffers from misdemeanor offenses
And, I don’t know why I hang myself through the pathetic hope of remake
What kind of damnation sucks the tired pieces of motherland cells?!
On behalf of who would be said my self-hanging, if there still exists tomorrow!

Pause of self-hanging through the national romanticism is like a homeland without love
Man, only fragile fiction of broken dream as ancient mosaic,
Oh, I need a pause to inhale tobacco smoke,
To not believe that we are hurting animals, oh my Lord...!

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Correspondence

Correspondence

 
...in Kosova, instead of my dream, I found a grave in which I place flowers every weekend ... 

Islam Morina

(A friend who went back from Denmark in Kosovo immediately after the war on 1999 to find his girlfriend who was shot dead by Serb military machine) 

 

If you remember Kosovo and graves
Albanian immigrant spirit closes into loneliness
And I bite the pain in white letter

 
You my young friend
Do not ask for the photo of the murdered childhood
Do not daub the wound of a resurrected muse

 
Measure the sunset with a first step
Do not promise flowers to the spring
Kiss the cold soil of my homeland

 And do not seek for love even within the books

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To the Grave of a Friend

To the grave of a friend

 

(Behxhet Maqani was killed by Serb snipers on Christmas night of 24 December 1998. 18 hours my friend, had struggled with death under minus 18 degrees Celsius...He was dragged and his hands were full of soil…he was fighting with death, for his children and the Family... no one, no one had helped. Despite the closest houses were only the 500 m away)

 

 

Nobody gave a speech

It was cold

They knew me as alive again

 

You touched separation

Being still alive I couldn’t kiss the wound

 

Except your Angels

My great friend

I know you alive as my death

 

 

 From the book "The Lyrics of pain", 2003

Details | Bekim Tocani Poem

Wet Memory

Wet memory

A hidden memory breath out deep
Before Queen Elizabeth II I swallow up the sun with my hands
And I don't die from the loves fire
Even when the bite pain asnostalgia impartibly

 
A kiss is absentat the corner of the lips slot
the rain embraces tear of mother who waits
I closed the pain at Shakespeare's house
and I dialogue with Hamlet in Esperanto

 
To the Palace of Queen has noise
A warm hug suffers
Landscape happiness locked in cage of stories
is not heard as the voice of your violin

 
Winter chill and fog seasons here
We didn't saw even after a century
At A5 winter hosts springs in huge
It was said that Da Vinci's Code has not completed

 
Yesterday didn't beat even Big Ben after a wounded autumn
London Eye kisses viewing beyond sacrificial
In English I don´t understand either your calendar time
There is a lack of rain tomany at Buckingham Palace

 
With the heat I love and suffer the verse and untold word
In the the Dunstable frozen tear gives farewell to the silence
I am crouched by the tears and wet to the bone
Re knit sighs of a killed love many years

Details | Bekim Tocani Poem

Forgotten Bells

Forgotten bells

 

I wake up before bells and faint dreams

There are many days that I don’t want to wake up

I feel that I want to fly to the oblivion

And repeatedly wakes me up the prayer of love

But I cannot paint the length of the night

 

I go and come together with the wind through the season veins

At the grave of father Fishta I could find none of my bones

As in black and white celluloid I touch the corps of the re-departure

One another final way of infinite pains

 

Over the thousand days I don’t know who is killing me more

The misfortune diagnosis above the sky I cannot kiss either

Sugar in blood of anemic books

Verse lung cancer

Or soul letters tumor

 

I feel so close to the end of the beginning

As the bells that are not ceasing once

There is so much hunger for freedom and thirst for another life

And I cannot decode the Becket’s mask into Dante’s circles

 

 

All those whom I love don’t turn me their backs

Prayer roses into a dry spring without heart

To open the door I want, there, where angels suffer in silent tears

And, even in the end of the end of the beginning

Do not ever stop lullabies for the cradles

 

Don’t ask me for more while I breathe the air as Lasgushi

Do not make prayers into mornings and evenings with lots of anxiety

And if nothing and at all you will remember

Nor the buried poet and people with a lots of wounds

Damn me once with voice of the soul

 

There, where bells play funeral announcements

Although, we don’t recognize the length of the day and the darkness kills

And, often we would not want to wake up from the curse of the nights

Repeatedly we are greeting the day

Forgotten within loneliness but closer to the language of God

Details | Bekim Tocani Poem

Confession

Confession

 
Even when nothing remained
And the hope was third with a yellow rain
I didn’t kiss the marrow of autumn

Forgive me the word of pain and tear of mine
I don’t recognize the language of sins today

I left you my soul hostage
But you never whispered the Bible  
You crucified the saint feeling

Forgive her oh Lord, even while she doesn’t know what she’s doing
Forgive me because I believe in love

You can not betray what you do not have
You never felt The Lyrics of Pain
The story is completely different

Burn my sins tonight you death of mine
While I believe yet in your infidelity

Details | Bekim Tocani Poem

Monologue of Loneliness

Monologue of loneliness

 

Do I still look like a man my dearest?
When I seek a bit of life and soul prays into orphan seasons


Could you paint the light of my eyes that parch?
Why you remake my soul in the loneliness of monotone mosaic?

 
Can you touch a light or the sun above my black darkness?
I try to hide the pain and you plant only love

 
Do I look like a shadow or a ghost when I suffer and breathe Albanian?
I cry and smile, fall and wound, but love over and over again

Details | Bekim Tocani Poem

No More Left

No more left

 

I’ve wrote much than once
Fonts tears and love
And little…just a little comfort
I’ve locked in your eyes
For one look for one part of pain

I’ve made scandalous picture
In white letter words
One second dream
And little…just a little smiling
For myself and misfortune

I’ve kissed your distances
Thousand and hundred days
Still we didn’t made pain
Untold love and tears
Thousand and hundred night’s I’ve seen
Leaving into mix cure stars

I’ve been on earth moment more
Wouldn’t had why and how
You haven’t learn alphabet of pain
Give the name to love and don’t forget
Let me be a faboul of stoun
Dust under your legs

I’ve been one time and many time
In one pain time
In one life reception equality with death
Has been songs and words
And little…o God how much
Autumn in my life

I’ve touched your eyes and pain eyes
Words and tear and love
And…today and tomorrow day
My thaw and doorstep spring
In middle of flower strings cinders of remembrance
And anything and no more
No waiting for and words, no tears and love
No more left